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Squib Ep.23 - Squibbed In Translation

ButonflyJan 18, 2019, 12:46:09 PM

(Start at the beginning here)

An uneasy peace settled over the squat camp. Herule filled the space mightily, an intense focus consuming the Lizardman as he gorged himself on the meal of small creatures that formerly belonged to their Gray Goblin. Squib had taken up sanctuary beneath the canopy once more, freshly wet and looking every bit as glower and bedraggled as he could at the affront. Then there was Two Bandana Anna, most foolhardy and out-of-her-depth girl to ever venture away from the privilege of her home.

The near heart stopping assault of the swamp monster, Herule, had left her feeling drained. The kick of adrenaline, the surge of pain from her wounds, the fact she had not taken proper care of herself with basics such as food and sleep had all caught up with her. Yet here she sat, slumped by the fire, her trinket stowed away so that she could pick slowly through a meal. Roast lizard was not her first choice for food but as Squib had said, it beat goblin, and considering her company it would have felt rude had she been so inclined.

The sound of a periodic hiss began to reach Bandana’s ears. She looked up from her greasy fingertips in search of the sound. Following from the fire her eyes roamed upward to the Lizardman, looming hungrily across from her. Another hiss, a burning, bubbling fizzle of blood as it struck a slate of charcoal. The smell of freshly seared blood hit her nose, the aroma already present but gone unnoticed before seeing the cause. Bandana looked to Herule’s hand where the wound of the dagger still stung raw and open. Blood streamed from the open palm and the rough back alike, the Lizardman unphased by the obvious hurt of his draining life. Bandana set down her morsel and rubbed her hands clean on her pants.

“Are you going to treat that?” She asked, pointing with a casual wave of her finger. She couldn't say what was worse, that he had the wound and was ignoring it, or that she was forced with that realisation. Bandana was more than likely treating herself as much, if not more than, Herule.

Herule looked up from his meal, suddenly aware Bandana was looking at him. He turned to look at Squib. “What does she ssay?” He asked.

Squib narrowed his eyes, still smitten from his descent into the rain. He waved his hand irritably at Herule’s arm and bubbled with his first flourish of energy since their encounter some minutes before. “You’re bleedin’ all over the camp you oaf! She wants you to clean yourself up.”

Herule looked at his hand, noticing it for the first time. He grunted, “It’s only bleeding because you sstabed it,” He shook it, sending a shower of drops hissing into the fire. Looking about his person, he hummed thoughtfully, seeing as he had no supplies he had no way to deal with it.

“What did he say? Does he need help?” Bandana asked, turning to Squib. She thought on her question for a moment, and of Squib, his particularly dour attitude, and the fact that minutes earlier the Lizardman had very nearly killed them both. “Should we be helping him?”

Squib growled, the sound turning to something like a bark, an answer in its own right that Bandana could not understand. She looked at him strangely, shaking her head a little, and after an awkward moment the goblin offered her something she could understand. “He said it is what it is. Help him if you want, or don’t, I don’t care,” and Squib threw his hands up in the air while turning his back to the camp.

It took some time and a bit of ingenuity but with the few supplies Bandana carried it wasn't long before a bloody red bandage was wrapped firmly around Herule’s hand. By some luck of The Ladies it hadn't seemed impaired, though Bandana knew it would take some time to heal properly. Time and rest which, if it were her life she were judging by, wouldn't come easy. Not that she had any way to communicate these thoughts to Herule, if she even needed to. It was clear Squib was reluctant to communicate between them at best, and judging by the many scars the Lizardman's coat already harbored, he didn't seem all that ignorant of the facts.

The work concluded all Bandana could do was give an assuring nod, leaving Herule to take it up for inspection. He checked it for a moment, still seemingly unconcerned, then took a long time to consider something before speaking once more with Squib. “Give the human female my thanks, and tell her after my recent dealings with human-kind, I will consider greatly the need for their potential food ssource sshould I happen upon one again in the future.”

Squib, still sitting with his back toward them, said nothing until prompted by Bandana.

“What did he say?”

Squib grumbled. “He said, as thanks he would not eat you.”

“Huh, well that’s a relief.” Bandana turned back to Herule, put her hand to her chest, and introduced herself, “Bandana.”

“What is she ssaying now?” Herule asked, not taking his eyes off her this time.

“She wants you to know her name,” Squib called over his shoulder.

Herule nodded agreeably, and hacked out a first attempt at sounding Bandana’s name. She nodded.

“His name is Herule!” Squib called again.

“Herule,” Bandana intoned, and Herule nodded in turn.

For a peaceful moment the fire crackled, the rain fell, and nobody spoke, content in whatever ease the three parties had etched out for themselves. Then Squib sprung to his feet, drew out a dagger, and growled into the haze before him.

“What is it?” Herule asked, clutching his spear and rising.

The risen waters swelled, a ripple formed, and the land ahead appeared to shift independent of the surrounding land mass.

Bandana was on her feet, knives in hand, edging a step back, wincing through pain, and full of nerves.

“Squib?” She pressed.

Something large emerged, thick gouts of watery mud, roots, and vines washing away as an island all of its own revealed itself, leveling out like some pop up archipelago before them. The stump of a tree emerged with it, a crooked, hollow looking thing with a dark hole that peered out like a thing alive.