[Lady Moreta]

Next time something I post involves food, I'll warn you first

I seem to be on a role this week, because here's another one. I freely admit to cheating with this one - it's taken directly from the game, so I haven't had to come up with any of Ket'Thull's dialogue, or his actions. I just copied/pasted from the in-game thread Only things I have done are take the colours out (Ket'Thull speaks like this, and Lyra speaks like this), and tidy things up a little. I haven't changed anything of what he said (except for adding a 'the' in one spot). All I really did was flesh out Lyra's thoughts, and rewrite some of the action so it flowed better.

Unexpected Friend
or, Now What Did I Do That For?

Spoiler

It’s a nice night out, I’ll give it that much. Merv, Corian and Daxter have already vanished. Goodness knows where they’ve gone – to rest presumably.

Xenith is just ahead of me, still clutching that wine bottle damn him. I’d been looking forward to finishing that off. It’s a sad day when someone has faster hands than I, Garret would be disappointed in me, I’m sure. It’s probably just as well he isn’t here to see me now. Vampires. I shudder.

Xenith is turning the wine bottle over and over in his hands, but not drinking from it. All of a sudden, I’m rather glad I don’t have the bottle. Something tells me drinking from that now wouldn’t be a good idea. Besides, we have to head off to find the vampires tomorrow! If ever a situation called for a clear head, it’s this one.

The things I get myself into… it’s all Ket’Thull’s fault.

Speak of the devil –err, half-orc. Ket’Thull is just ahead of me, in the centre of the courtyard. He has his head back and he’s staring up at the sky. I wonder what he’s looking at. And – is he talking? I can see his lips are moving, but I’m too far away to really hear him. Who on earth could he be talking to? Unless it’s not someone on earth. That makes me grin.

He’s stopped now, and has walked into the inn. I don’t know what makes me do it, curiosity, or just a certain mischievousness, but I march myself up to the same spot he stood in and tip my head backwards. The stars are up there. They’re very pretty, but that’s about it.

The sound of a door shutting echoes around the courtyard. The door to the inn is swinging gently shut, and I can see outlines of people within the building. Suddenly I would very much like to be inside. Besides, I have a bone to pick with Ket’Thull. He got me into this mess.

He’s at the counter, asking for the room the mayor has arranged for him. The poor innkeeper doesn’t look like they quite know what to do with such a well-mannered half-orc. I know exactly how they feel.

The others appear to have vanished. Good. I can pick my bone in private.

I march up to the counter and lean against it, standing far enough away that I don’t have to crane my head too much to look at Ket’Thull’s face. He’s so tall.

"You know, I should never have listened to you." I look up into his face, but he is wearing that stoic, un-expression that annoys me so much. How am I supposed to tell what someone is thinking if they won’t show it on their face? I twitch my shoulders just thinking about it. Listening to Ket’Thull got me in this situation – with vampires.

"What I should have done, was run when I got the chance. Vampires..." I shudder again – just the thought of undead gives me the creeps. I’m never going to get to sleep tonight. What I am going to get is a massive crick in my neck from standing here staring up at him.

"And why do you have to be so damn tall?!"

He looks a little startled at that, then, still with that annoying un-expression on his face, he answers me.

"Because," he replies, "my mother and father had a fight to have custody over me when I was just a child. In fact, my father grabbed my hands, and my mother disagreed, grabbing my legs, and they just pulled... They pulled so hard that my length increased... A little."

“Very funny.” I say it flatly. My expression must be speaking volumes. I certainly hope it is. He stops speaking and peers into my face, then he laughs aloud – it’s a surprisingly cheerful sound.

"Heheh, not true my dear," he says smiling. "I was just joking. Must be my orcish heritage what made me like I am: A tall half-human, half-orc with a short life, but an early maturehood. And more importantly, a selfless servant of good."

My dear… my goodness it makes me want to kick him in the shins again. The way I did when we first met. Still, I suppose it isn’t his fault. He’s not to know how much that particular endearment – doesn’t endear me. I hate being called ‘dear’. Just because I’m short. One of these days, I’m going to find someone with a potion of Enlarge Person, and I’m going to drink the whole thing. Then I’m going to find all those people who’ve ever called me ‘dear’ and stomp all over them.

Now that I think about it, Daxter is a wizard. I wonder if he can cast it?

The sound of tapping on the countertop draws my attention back to my companion. He is speaking again.

"Yes, vampires are dangerous abominations, servants of evil. You could run if you wish, young Lyra," he says gently. "But you didn't. You're here, with us. You just proved to me that you can choose the best, between a life of accomplishment, and a life of regret - running away from your problems, eternally."

I manage not to laugh in his face. Me? Choose the best? I haven’t chosen since the day I fled my home. Since the day my mother was taken from me. A life of regret? He doesn’t know what the word means. Of running away? I don’t run away. I haven’t run away from a job my entire life.

Armour jingles as Ket’Thull removes his sheathed sword from his back and sits down on a nearby bench. I watch in seething silence as he rests the weapon across his knees. I hate to think how much it weighs.

"I personally prefer to accomplish things, my dear," he continues, smiling. "A life of regret means having a long life of no true accomplishments. You may call me crazy, but I think stopping this undead is a small contribution to a peaceful world."

I open my mouth to retort, only to close it again. I didn’t think I’d called him crazy, though he’d clearly taken it that way. No, that wasn’t what had me pausing. What it was, was the memory of another voice, of another time. Calling me crazy. Garret.

Like it was yesterday, I could hear his voice in my memories. Insisting that I was crazy for leaving. That it could be sorted out. That I didn’t have to leave. Didn’t have to run. The words still sting. And it makes me think. Jobs were never my problems. Jobs were easy. Jobs were fun. No, my problems… those were different. Those were insurmountable. At least, that’s how I’d always viewed them. Now, with Ket’Thull’s and Garret’s words playing chase in my mind, I start to wonder if perhaps they were right. Perhaps I have made a career out of running from my problems. But still. Vampires.

I moved over to stand in front of him, planting my hands on my hips to cover my sudden discomfort. It’s much easier to talk when I don’t have to crane my neck to look at him.

"Perhaps," I say finally, it’s a generic word, it should cover me nicely. "I still think I only agreed to come with you because you're big enough to squash me." I grin at him, I know he’s sensitive about being teased, and I do want him to realise I’m only joking.

"Anyway,” I add. “I have plenty of 'true accomplishments'. I just don't think they'd be what you would consider very accomplished.” That’s the gods own truth. I don’t think my ‘accomplishments’ would loom very large in a paladin’s view of the world.

“I don't know if you're crazy, but I do think you're the strangest paladin I've ever met. And I don't mean because of your race."

He’s quite quiet, thinking I guess. Finally, he wraps his hand around the hilt of his sword – that thing is quite a monster.

"Fear not. For I'll protect you as long as you stay close."

I can’t help but laugh at that, he’s always so serious. I know he means well, but I’m not sure he realises why I’m not likely to ever stick too close to him. I’m laughing as I answer him.

"I don't think I'd care to stick too close to you though, you're too big a target!"

He is serious though. It’s – strange to me. I’m not used to anyone other than Garret caring about my safety; and I’m certainly not used to a paladin caring about my safety. Wanting to grab me and lock me up ‘for my own wellbeing and the safety of others’ – sure. But actually caring? Never. I realise I’m staring at his hand, as it rests on the hilt of his sword. Impulsively, I reach out and place my hand over his.

"You're a good man Ket'Thull" I say, suddenly serious myself. There is something very kind in his eyes. I think I like this man. I lean forward and kiss his check.

What the hell? What on earth did I do that for? Ket’Thull looks surprised, and I don’t blame him. I don’t know why I did that either. Abruptly I pull back and walk away, my spine tense and my head held rigidly high. That was stupid, but it’s too late to change it now.

Behind me, I can hear the clink of armour as Ket’Thull stands up, and the solid thud of his footsteps. I’m so tense I just about jump out of my skin when he puts his hand on my shoulder. Thankfully, he’s taken the gauntlet off, I bruise easily.

"You're a good girl too, Lyra," he replies, smiling slightly. "Heroineous' blessings be upon you, my dear."

Shut up! The vehemence of my internal voice surprises even me. The gods and I have a – tenuous relationship at best, but my inner voice knows this isn’t the time to get into a religious argument. Ket’Thull has gone past me now, and is approaching the stairs where Daxter is waiting.

"It's time to rest, young Lyra," he says. "Tomorrow we'll be having an eventful trip..."

I tip my head back to look up at him – why does he have to be so tall? Oh, how I miss Garret. I give him a quick smile and mumble

“Goodnight” I don’t trust myself to say anything else. I’ve already put my foot in it once. Daxter is waiting on the stairs, but I dodge around him and go flying up them, shaking my head as I go. I’m not sure whether I’m doing it to discourage Ket’Thull from following me (though I can hear Daxter chuckling behind me, so I assume he’s inadvertently run interference for me), or if I’m trying to tell myself to stop being an idiot.

I throw myself onto the bed – oh a bed! and kick off my shoes, the bag has already been dumped on the floor. All I really want to do is sleep, and it’s been a long time since I got to sleep in a bed.

I curl up under the blankets and lie there, wondering why I’m not automatically falling asleep. Unconsciously I reach under the pillow, and promptly realise why I’m so restless. Leaning over I grab the straps of my haversack – handy little thing. I asked about them once, apparently, so the story goes, some mage by the name of Heward created them. Must have been a bit of a weakling. Still, they’re useful.

Rummaging around in that with one hand, my other reaches towards my boot. I pull both hands free at the same time. One holds the small whistle I kept from the guild, the other has my dagger. I tuck both of them underneath the pillow, and curl up on my side, one had wrapped around the whistle. I have slept like this ever since they took my mother. It’s not comfortable, but at least now I can sleep.