"That was an extremely lucky arrival time." A dual-sword wielding light elf said later to her companion. Her name was November, and she was a Swordsinger, come from the mainland for an Elven festival that happened once every fifty years among the Henge ruins of the island. It was a festival very few elves remembered, and kept as a well-locked secret, not even the scholars in Ivory Tower knew of its existence. Why November remembered the festival was a mystery that no one would ever know. She had arrived on a ship full of visiting warriors, including Gatz, who came just in time to dispel the monsters that had attacked the town.
"Hey Nov, there's some injured people over here!" a human named Tex called from around a half-demolished home.
"Oh dear, I'm on my way!" November's companion and lover, Glarawen, shouted back. November put a hand on Glarawen's arm and gazed into her eyes with concern.
"Darling, you've been healing every person we come across, even those near death. You must be exhausted, please let the Bishops of the town take care of them and think of yourself." November said gently. Her blonde hair covering one eye, Glarawen smiled sweetly at November and put a hand on her cheek before pulling out of her grasp and turning towards Tex.
"I'll be fine my love. The Priests in this town aren't nearly strong enough to take care of everyone. I should help as much as I can!" Glarawen said as she made her way towards their human friend. She rounded the corner to find Gatz kneeling next to Sharmin, whose eyes were wide with shock. She was stiff and un-moving, as if she had frozen to the spot. Gatz had pulled the arrow from her body, and held his hands over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
Glarawen smoothed the skirt of her brown and white robes as she knelt next to Sharmin. She held her hands over the wound without asking Gatz or Sharmin for permission and began to heal her. Sharmin was covered in scratches, but nothing needing immediate attention like the wound to her hip. Sharmin slowly raised her eyes as two official-looking men circled her destroyed home. One ventured inside only to come out a moment later and vomit next to the stairs. Gatz stood as the other made his way over to the trio after conferring with his sickened companion.
"This house is the worst out of all of them." The man was saying to him in a low voice. Sharmin stared, unblinking. Their voices seemed to echo in her mind, and she struggled to grasp their words. "We're going to have to postpone the funerals; those girls are going to be finding pieces for days." Sharmin began to shiver.
"You couldn't possibly expect Sharmin and Komugi to go in there." Gatz said next, his voice incredulous
"The other townsfolk have to do it for their family, why should those girls be treated any different? They'll see no different on the mainland, might as well desensitize them now." The man shrugged. Sharmin's mind suddenly detached itself and she found herself screaming at the top of her lungs, her arms clutched to her chest. She rocked a moment before leaning over to continue her mournful screaming. Glarawen, her own eyes brimming with tears, put a hand on Sharmin's shoulder, saying comforting words that Sharmin could no longer hear. Pressure built up in her face as she screamed and her nose began to bleed, but she paid it no mind. Her voice eventually gave out, and Sharmin fainted, giving in to shock and exhaustion, thankful as peaceful unconsciousness overcame her senses.
When Sharmin woke again, it was night. She found herself lying on a bed, staring at the sky through a hole in the roof above her. A body shifted next to her, and Sharmin slowly turned her head, her sister's tear-streaked face coming into focus. Komugi was curled near Sharmin, murmuring something in her sleep. Her eyes had dark circles underneath them; no doubt she had been forced to heal the injured until she herself finally collapsed from exhaustion after the attack.
"Are you with us?" Gatz asked from the seat he had set up next to the bed. Sharmin turned to face him, her eyes still large.
"Where am I?" she asked in a raspy voice. She shifted, attempting to push herself up to look around.
"My Uncle's house." Gatz said, pushing her back down gently. Gatz was the nephew of Sir Collin Windawood, a knight who became the Governor of Talking Island. Sir Collin was frequently seen at the Obelisk of Victory, a large, pointed tower of stone, eager to tell any passer-bys of its history. Gatz himself was born near Windawood Manor, and grew up playing amongst the dried bushes of the Wasteland until his Uncle insisted he come to Talking Island to learn swordsmanship there, under Cedric. Ironically enough, Cedric was also Gatz's uncle, having married Collin's elder sister, making Gatz quite the social icon on Talking Island and connected to the Athebaldt family as well.
Sharmin lay back down willingly, finding that when she was upright, her head would pound. She turned her eyes back to the hole in the roof and stared through it. Wisps of smoke passed over it and Sharmin sat up quickly this time, staring at it.
"What's that?" she asked, alarmed. Gatz sighed and took her hand, holding it until she moved her eyes from the smoke to him.
"It's your house." He said sadly, squeezing her hand. Sharmin stiffened, but made no move to get up. It was now that she noticed crates stacked behind him, some of her and Komugi's belongings peeking out the top. Most of what she saw was nearly destroyed; whoever had packed the crates had probably just grabbed whatever was in their bedroom. "Your…" Gatz paused and took a breath. "It was better just to burn the house down. Save what's behind me, there was nothing salvageable left in there." He said carefully, trying to tell the truth without revealing all of it. Sharmin slowly lowered herself back down on to the bed. Tears welled in her eyes and slid out the corners.
"What happened to the others?" she asked as Gatz released her hand.
"The Priests and that Elven Elder healed as many as they could. Those that they couldn't they…" Gatz paused and shifted uncomfortably, unsure if he should be telling Sharmin so much, so soon after her panic attack.
"They put them in my house, didn't they?" Sharmin concluded. "A quick way to bury all that had died, right?" Gatz didn't acknowledge her statement with anything more than a heavy sigh.
"Try to get some sleep if you can. We'll talk more in the morning." Gatz said, scooting his chair a little closer to the bed. Her mind strangely calm, Sharmin nodded slightly and shut her eyes.
Months passed. Sharmin and Komugi had come to stay with a woman several miles from the Village, near the Elven Ruins. She had opened her house up to all the orphaned children from the attack; Sharmin and Gatz had been employed as bodyguards for the house against the Werewolves, Orcs and the occasional Giant Spider that attempted to intrude on the land. No longer able to study at the Training Hall because of her new job, Sharmin's strength training all but halted. She had slowly become accustomed to killing Orcs and the Werewolves, but would still get the occasional panic attack if she thought about it too much. When she focused on nothing but protecting the children in the house, she found herself able to fight off anything that came at them.
It took Komugi weeks before she was able to even muster up a tiny half smile, and she was still unable to fully show many of her emotions. She had gone into a type of lasting shock since the attack that she would one day recover from, it was just questionable as to when that day would be. Gatz forced Sharmin to talk through her grief and shock through weeks of prodding while they made rounds outside of the home, and she was recovering quickly.
The more time Sharmin spent with Gatz, the more interesting of a person she discovered he was. While in school he was always just the kid in the background, he didn't stand out, nor did he make any type of effort to stand out. His weapon skill was average, as was his intelligence. His golden blonde hair was cut at his jaw, which framed a bit more than average handsome face. Sharmin discovered that he had a good heart, but tended to act a bit impulsively, especially when it came to fighting large groups of beasts. He seemed to like running into fights headfirst, and then think later. Koyori was brought from the Village to heal the pair as they scouted the area around the house, and more times than naught nearly collapsed from exhaustion of over-casting her healing spells on him. Gatz not once seemed to realize his recklessness was leading to early gray hairs on the Cleric, and cheerfully continued on.
"You're going to be the death of me!" Koyori screeched at Gatz one mild early summer evening. She had her face near his, seething and waving her arms frantically. Gatz had his head drawn back slightly, one eyebrow raised at the strange display she was giving him. "Why can't you be more cautious, like Sharmin? I'm sick and tired of always having to pull your almost-dead carcass from the other world! I'm getting old before my time!"
"I'm a Warrior; running into battle is what I do." Gatz said nonchalantly, picking at a small blemish on his cheek. Koyori made an aggravated noise and gripped two handfuls of her shaggy, short black hair. Sharmin giggled at the two, their arguments over Gatz' lack of healer compassion was a daily occurrence.
"If it's too much for you, then just stop all together." Komugi's voice came from the porch of the house. Koyori snapped to attention, turning an electrified glare towards the spindly girl. The two were nearly the same age, but Koyori seemed more mature in physical shape. Komugi was still very childish. No one knew what started the girls on their lifelong rivalry, but it only seemed to grow cattier with puberty.
"Oho, big words coming from an underdeveloped RUNT like yourself who can't even concentrate enough to heal her own paper cuts!" Koyori sneered, planting herself in front of the porch and jutting out her chest, as if to point it out. An amazing recovery came over Komugi, and Sharmin witnessed her hair slowly prickling out as her temper flared to life and slowly made its way through her body. Her shoulders rose up a bit as she clenched her fists, and she took a stiff step towards Koyori.
"Well at least I don't have two gigantic melons bouncing on my chest when I run." Komugi shifted to put her weight on one leg and tossed her hair. "Seriously though, I've heard you're progressing slowly even though you made Cleric first, are those things absorbing your intelligence or what?" Komugi scoffed evilly. Koyori's mouth opened and closed in disbelief.
"Don't be silly my dear little Komugi." Koyori sneered, recovering from her stupor. "Everyone knows intelligence is based upon breast size, which explains why YOU'RE so behind." Komugi growled and stomped a foot towards her, taking on a challenging stance, an action which Koyori mimicked. Behind them the children of the home crowded the window with eager faces. Some older boys watched with a bit too much glee, the hope that the girls would get into some sort of physical fight apparent in their expressions.
"They're going to be at this for awhile, want to go take a walk?" Gatz offered with a grin. Giggling at the two girls (and knowing that a fight between them would never amount to more than a bruised eye or a split lip) Sharmin nodded.