#watcher hildraed

Hildraed was finally standing at her long awaited goal. She was standing. And staring. Mouth hanging open and eyes wide she was staring into the main plaza. Her head was empty, entirely filled with the sight before her eyes.

Finally, after what felt like at least three turns of the wheel, there was one word that her mouth formed.

“Fuck.”

She was tempted to close her eyes and take a deep breath, but she feared the stench of rotting flesh would finally knock her out. But what did she deserve really? How could she have dared to hope for a better situation. At least in Readceras they didn’t hang people from the trees, they just left them to starve.

“I take it you’re a new settler.” Oh fuck no, the land could be as cheap as it wanted to be, she was not staying here. A moment passed and Hildraed noticed that someone had to have asked the question. She turned around and immediately regretted it. Staring at her was a small, slimy looking man with an official looking broach on his cloak. His stare told her exactly what he was thinking of her, and for a second Hildraed was tempted to just punch him in the face and save herself the trouble of having to listen to him. Unfortunately, she was alone and severely battered, which made her chances of winning such an encounter rather slim.

And so she half heartedly listened to him, tuning him out as much as possible, and only occasionally throwing in a dry remark when he became all too insufferable. And then the bells rang, and with them Hildraed’s head. She was going to kill someone in this miserable dirt hole. Maybe this wretch, maybe the insane fuckhead in his castle, but somebody was going to die by her hand someday.

Glowering at the smug shithead in front of her and only barely managing to convince herself to not push him into the pit, she stomped over to the inn. First sleeping, then killing someone, then drinking herself under the table and hopefully erasing the last few day from her mind. In that order.

But before she could even enter the inn, the next trouble found her. Well then, maybe one of these people would be the dead ones. Probably the nervous, elvish money-bag over there. While she didn’t hold quite as much of a grudge against every single aedyran who ever lived as these… fine gentlemen seemed to, she certainly held no love for them, and the fact that this particular one very obviously came from the upper classes didn’t do him any favours either.

“Ay, you’re itchin’ for the kindeling touch o’ your sister!”

For a second Hildraed blinked. And then she laughed. Loudly and hideously she howled, head thrown back with absolute glee. Well then, maybe not this one perhaps. It took her a while to gasp for air again, and by this point the villagers were staring at her with suspicion. Still grinning she wiped a tear from her eye, not at all caring about their looks. The source of her hilarity however was starting to look seriously frightened as he stammered out excuses, so maybe it was time to stop them from lynching him.

“Ah well, now that we have that absolute gem of an accusation, how about you all fuck off and get to keep your innards for another day.” She could kill them. A part of her wanted to, but that little bit of fun had dredged up some of her good will.

“Ay, we don’t like getting told what to do by outsiders!” Well, perhaps not then. Hildraed’s mood soured again as the men squared up. Of course not. The following brawl was short but brutal. Even in her battered state Hildraed was a force to be reckoned with, and with well aimed hits she took down one after the other. She didn’t care if their necks broke in the process, if they were lucky they’d get up again in the morning, if not, well that wasn’t her problem. The last man went down, and left was only the now intimated looking elf with an unused grimoire in his hand.

“Well… Thank you for that.” An exhausted snort was his answer, and Hildraed spat some blood on the ground before glancing up to him again. She was pretty sure one eye was shifting a bit too much left…

“You’re welcome.”

“Are- are you alright?” This was not even worthy of a snort.

“Do I look like it?”

“N-no?”

“No, that’s right lad.” Blinking heavily Hildraed dragged one hand over face, the back of it coming away stained with dirt and blood. She scowled, before immediately wincing with regret as her head gave a painful pulse. A strand of her hung into her eyes, and she grabbed scowling some more through the pain. Her brown her was somehow both fatty and dry, hanging listlessly and grimy from her head in thick strands. Oh how she already missed the salty breeze of the ocean… Why had she ever agreed to come here? Surely she could have taken care of all the fuckers who wanted to see her hang, it couldn’t possibly have been worse than this.

Upon glancing up again she found the elf looking at her with concern and a half open mouth. Oh, maybe he’d been talking. Ups.

“Look lad, I’m far too tired for any of this and I heard exactly nothin’ you just said, so I’ll throw myself in there, and if you’re still there tomorrow, we can have a talk.” Not caring whether he followed or not, Hildread passed him by towards the inn on by now wobbling steps. Why couldn’t the land feel as nice as the sea? Although, her current problems probably had more to do with the agony spreading through her feet than missing land legs.

A loud curse ripped from her mouth as her shoulder painfully bumped into the doorframe from her unsteady walk, the urge to kick it as well only reined in by her not obeying muscles. Suddenly there was a slender hand on her elbow pulling her away from the wall and into the building. The elf had indeed followed her, and was now helping her stumble along the way in the inn, staring forward with visible concern and just as obviously already questioning his decision to follow and touch the scary, dirty, bloody, scarred and cussing woman who had just possibly killed three men.

A drunken grin spread over Hildraed’s face as her energy drained even faster. At least the boy had guts enough to know who to follow, even if he had a too big trap for his own good. And with that grimoire of his he might actually be useful later.

The next sensation she felt was a rough mattress under her cheek and her eyes shifting back from their apparently once again cross-eyed position. Dimly she knew that the elf boy must have dragged her all the way into a bedroom, but her muscles certainly didn’t care, as they finally relaxed a bit, still aching but at least not also attempting to hold her up anymore. With relieved sigh her eyes shut, and with vengeance she shoved all the shit from the last few days away to just sleep.