NB: Double update this time.

Work transferred me to another different branch. It took some time to settle in. Should be more steady on the update front now.

Thank you for those who still stick around.

Lost in Realm

20

It turned out the twins knew Jhalnin.

They had done jobs with him twice in the past. And the drow had somehow turned on them and made attempts to rob their shares both times. One of those attempts was successful. No, it wasn't that uncommon among the mercenaries, be it in Luskan or anywhere in this land. But, according to Greg and Boyle, what that scoundrel did kind of break the unspoken code between the hirelings. Nhilva was still rather new in this, so she wasn't exactly familiar with the whole code thing. Therefore he decided to remain quiet and let the half-orc rogue do the talking.

And talking he did.

Now she was certain at least this one was tired, or having a hangover, when they met at the gate earlier. For the best part of the next two hours, the fella nearly talked her ears off. From them and Jhalnin's bad history, to the jobs they did, to the cities they have been to that weren't Neverwinter or Waterdeep. Hells, they even had been to Rashemen.

"You've been to Rashemen?!" The drow female was impressed. From her memory, it wasn't easy to get there. People had to travel rather far and long to reach the land of Berserkers.

"Aye, one of our ancestors was originally from Rashemen," Greg grinned proudly. "They moved out after the Defeat of King of Shadows."

"King of Shadows was defeated on the Sword Coast, you jit," Boyle, the other half-orc twin, chimed in. "Our ancestors came following the Kalach-Cha."

Nhilva chuckled. She knew about the story. It was one of the roleplaying games she played in the past life. Rather entertaining, to be honest, to know such a story was actually a historical event here. She watched the twins go into bickering mode while carrying on walking. After a few steps, she sensed Bishop was moving in her shoulder sack. Opening up the bag a little, she saw a furry head poking out.

"Hungry?" She smiled gently at the beast, rummaging her other bag and taking out a small bits of beef jerky. "There you go. Fun journey we are having, aye? Try not to wiggle too much or you will pull the wounds open again. I cannot do anything about them now as you know it. But it shouldn't be long. Just hang on."

"Speaking of which, we haven't talked about what happened in the Fried Rat, have we?" She continued after watching the displacer beast kitten take the jerky and start nibbling it. "Should I take it as a good sign you are healing, though not fast? Still, I'd guessed it is rather energy-draining, no? While without you, I would be in a much worse situation, I'd still prefer you don't do that in the future. Goodness, am I talking to you like a child? People wouldn't think I am mad in this realm, do you think? It is a little too late for that, aye? Tsk-tsk."

Bishop snorted as he used his teeth and claws to tear the jerky into shreds so it would be easier to eat. The unhealing wounds still hurt like hells whenever he moved. The standard healing potion and bandages helped, but only a little. More than once, he wondered what happened to this kitten before his soul inhabited the body. Whoever decided to pluck him out of the Wall of Faithless and put him inside a near dead creature had a very weird sense of humor. Before all of this, he thought his sense of humor was weird.

He recalled the conversation he just heard. The familiar term was mentioned. Rashemen, King of Shadows, and Kalach-Cha. The last time he saw her as a hostless soul inside that Wall, she was with someone. A hagspawn, he believed? He did not know how much time had passed, but he hoped she have a good life after that.

He took another bite of the dried meat and winced at the usual ache that followed. Ever since he performed that trick in the Rat Alley, his body was weakened somewhat. It was expected, but at the time all he thought about was he could not let that drow jit took her. He needed to buy her some time. Well, they were both bloody lucky at the end. No, he did not delve into the real reason why. At the moment, he did not need to think about that. He was just a displacer beast cub, and a cub did not need to think.

"Who are you talking to, Nhilva?" Greg saw the drow mumbling and paused his harmless argument with his brother, returning his attention back to her again. "Hey, you got a kitty in your bag! Isn't that cute? Wait a minute...is he injured? What happened? Don't tell me that Jhalnin bastard did this to him. That will be the new low."

"Nah, it wasn't him," Nhilva shrugged. "This wee thing was like this when I got him."

"Have you tried to heal him? There are beast masters who know how to do that, yeh know," the rogue offered. The drow female gave him another amused look. There were others in the group, why did he seem to enjoy talking to her? Was it simply because they both knew Jhalnin and they both hated him? But that wasn't exactly an excuse. Or perhaps she had trust issues. Yet she was a drow, and everyone she met here had trust issues. So it wasn't exactly the reason, either.

"These are magic wounds."

"What's that?"

"These are wounds inflected by magic. They don't heal easily," said Nhilva.

"That's horrible, who'd..." Greg was going to continue when Bastian at the front raised a hand, his tone sounded serious.

"We have a problem."