Rusty Claymore (post: 1408433) wrote:Phox
Wyn and Dominick now stood next to him looking down upon the wooden huts. If you didn't count the utter lack of life in the village, it was perfectly normal. The huts were well kept, the windows were open, and they looked genuinly welcoming. This was what bothered Phox the most. But he attributed his serious upsetting of nerves to the fact that he had not slept in 36 hours, and convinced himself he was reading too much into his feelings.
Phox took a deep breath and exhaled, telling the brothers to do likewise. "If we're suprised down there, we'll only hurt ourselves if we're tense. We'll also be more apt to startle ourselves, and if there is any more pressure on my inner control I'll faint."
Squaring his shoulders, Phox took the last distance in a few quick strides. He was now standing directly in front of the nearest hut, so he walked to it's one window and looked in.
The inside was, well, the inside of a fishing village hut. Everything was in order. The floor was swept, and the mantles dusted. The only pecuilarity Phox had time to notice was that dishes from a thuroughly finished meal were still on the table, as if someone had just not felt like bothering to clean them up. The reason Phox had only enough time to notice this was because at that moment Dominick had shouted, "Hello? Anyone here?" in a rather loud voice.
*THWACK!* Phox saw only a blinding white light for the next few moments. Surprisingly, his mind still worked, since he said, Now, that there was probably what should have been done in the first place, and this suspicous snooping around and nerve slaying would have been completely unescessary. to himself, as well as expressing a sincere form of contempt for either the window frame or his nerves, whichever was properly to blame for the uncerimonious smashing of his skull into the hut.
Phox sat down, and motioned to the brothers that the hut was fine, and they could go ahead and look around. The last occupant of this particular hut had not been threatened, for all signs had told Phox they had left as if on a whim, and in no hurry whatsoever.
Phox was certain there was a very logical reason to why there were no people about, and was sure the brothers could find it out. Whether he had given himself a concussion, was succumbing to the need for sleep, or was just fainting, Phox now slipped out of consciousness.
[OOC: Many appologies for the length. It was a long day today, or yesterday rather, and I have been listening to too much "Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency", and gave this final push to give Wiki a decent setting for the village. It is now in your capable hands, Wiki, for I am about to faint. Please forgive any typos, I can't bring myself to review it...]
Dominick
"Huh?" Dominick stared dumbfounded as Phox fell to the floor limp, smashing his head on a windowsill. One second he was talking, the next he was dropping like a felled tree. "Wyn? Can you leave the donkeys for a sec?" Dominick knelt down next to Phox's limp body.
Is he dead? Wyn arrived just then. Dominick looked up at him "What is this?" He asked, lifting Phox's arm and then dropping it.
"Did you hit him?" Wyn signed.
"
No, I didn't even touch him! He just fell over!"
Wyn looked doubtful.
"I swear he just fell over. I think he hit his head. Help me turn him over."
Together they moved the prone Phox into a sitting position. There was blood running down his face Dominick recoiled, he felt nauseous. Wyn pulled out his handkerchief and wiped some of the blood away and smiled with relief.
"It's not as bad as it looks," he signed.
"Just a little cut, but it's bleeding a lot, scalp cuts are like that."
Dominick regained some of the color in his face. "I guess he must have a really hard head."
"Almost as hard as yours." Wyn tied the handkerchief around Phox's head.
"Hey! That's not funny!" Dominick scowled.
Wyn smiled.
"Anyway, what do we do now?"
Wyn shrugged and sat down to think.
Dominick sat next to Phox. "If the blow to his head isn't serious enough to knock him out why is he unconscious?" He looked at Phox suspiciouisly. "Maybe it's a trick." Dominick reached out his hand and rubbed it through Phox's hair. "Spiky." He turned to look back at Wyn.
Wyn had a look of pure bewilderment on his face. What? he mouthed.
"If he laughs he's faking it."
Wyn put his hand to his forehead and he convulsed with laughter that didn't make a sound.
Dominick watched him feeling stupid.
I thought it was clever.
Wyn recovered and still grinning signed
"I can't make many good guesses about someone who I only met four or five hours ago. Maybe he has some kind of illness."
Dominick looked at Phox. His eyelids lowered. "Lucky us, cursed with a narcoleptic guide." He rested his chin on his knees. "So what do we do now." The empty village was giving him the creeps.
Wyn looked at the ceiling for a few moments and then looked back at Dominick.
"Reconnoiter. We have to stay together. We'll have to carry him so lets leave our packs here." He pointed to the cupboards.
"No one will find them."
As if there was anyone to find them in the first place. Dominick went along with his brother's plan since there weren't any other obvious things to do. They found the donkeys outside eating grass by the side of the house. After unloading their panniers and storing their contents under a tarp, since only the packbaskets fit in the cupboards, they tied the donkeys to the door posts, Wyn hauled Phox up on his back, and they set out to see if there was any life in this village.
"Piggyback for the narcoleptic one." Dominick tried to make jokes through the nervousness that was setting in from the silence and emptiness of the village.
Wyn glared at him. Dominick understood it:Not funny.
"Why can't we just load him on Nero?"
Wyn groaned and knelt down. Phox slid off his back to the ground where he began snoring.
"Why didn't you mention that earlier?"
"I thought you had already thought of it."
It took them a bit longer to tie Phox into the empty panniers with his hands tied together around Nero's thick neck.
Wyn
After a few hours of exploring Wyn was tired and annoyed--Dominick kept doing ridiculous things like holding one sided conversations with the sleeping Phox--he was just about ready to shake Phox awake, and demand an explanation. the entire time they'd been there they hadn't seen a single living thing besides birds. His hair was standing on end and he couldn't distract himself the way Dominick could. He couldn't stop thinking:
what if Phox doesn't wake up?
Phox was probably just really, really tired. Wyn assured himself.
"Hey you notice the people from this village have disappeared and left
all their stuff behind?"
Wyn turned to Dominick.
No kidding I hadn't noticed that, he thought, and gave Dominick a blank stare.
Dominick shook his head, "No, I mean they left
all their stuff behind."
Wyn mouthed What?
"Am I missing something?"
Dominick sighed. "We sell stuff."
Dominick's meaning finally dawned on Wyn.
Looting? His eyes grew wide with surprise.
"Hey I'm just saying, they don't seem to think they need it anymore. It might as well see some use."
At first Wyn was repulsed at the idea, but he saw the sense in it.
"I can't believe I raised such a pragmatist."
"I'm just saving us some money."
Wyn half closed his eyes.
This doesn't feel right. "Let's start with the boathouses."
"I knew you'd see it my way." Dominick grinned.
they spent a half hour searching the first boathouse they came to, and left with a few nice ropes.
"I told you this would pay off, maybe we'll be able to add another donkey to our string"
As they approached the next boathouse Nero stopped, planted his feet and hauled backwards. "Hey!" Dominick yelled. "What are you doing."
Wyn turned to look back at his brother who was hauling backwards on Nero's rope and trying to make the donkey move in every way imaginable.
Strange, Nero is always so cooperative. Then he smelled it. A coppery smell of blood filled the air around the boathouse as Wyn approached the door.
What is in there?
His hand shook as he wrapped it around the door handle. He took a deep breath. There's only one way to find out. He pulled the big boathouse door open, it hinges creaking slightly, and looked inside.
The interior of the boathouse was more horrible than anything he had ever dared imagine. He didn't know how long he stood there staring, unable to tear his eyes away from the pile of bodies.
They had been ripped with blades and . . . he turned away. Dominick was standing behind him with his mouth open, all the blood drained from his face and he was as white as a freshly bleached sheet. He clapped both hands over his mouth and ran to the bushes near where he had tied Nero.
Panicked, and unable to think straight Wyn ran to wake up Phox. He cut the ropes from his hands and feet and hauled him off the donkey. He lifted up the man's limp body and shook him with all his might.
Wake up, wake up and tell me what the he** is going on. Wyn slapped Phox in the face.
You've slept long enough. Phox's eyes slowly began to open.
OOC: I guess I won the long post award, sorry people who have to read this.
And Rusty, I hope It's alright about Phox's unconsciousness lasting three hours, sorry if that wasn't right.