Twitch.
The sudden involuntary movement brought him to consciousness. He kept his eyes closed, but sounds of the morning filled his ears. Birds greeted the sun as the wind kissed the leaves.
Then another stimulus tickled his senses. The strong smell of... burnt wood? He quickly opened his eyes and jumped to his feet, wary of what might be around him. Much to his surprise, he was standing in the remains of a large building that looked like it met it's demise at the hands of an inferno. He cautiously walked to the natural ground for fear the integrity of the building might be compromised. Sighing in relief, he touched ground.
He froze. He realized he didn't know where he was. Franticly looking around, he found he did not recognize and of his surrounds.
But something feels different... He looked to his right and there it... wasn't? Shocked and confused, he fell on his rear. He knew that he had other Drakna attached to his body, but he now saw nothing of the sort. Was it a dream? He couldn't remember anything about it, much akin to a dream, but thinking like that just felt wrong. Something just felt... wrong... Dumbfounded, and a bit depressed he couldn't account for what felt like months, he just sat there; His head void of anything coherent.
He heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps; Or rather, he did not hear it but his body did. Signals started flying off in his head. Something is coming! You don't know where you are and you don't know what kind of danger you could be in! Look up! Be on your guard!
His body continued to scream at him, but he couldn't move; Couldn't react. Even as the figured approached closer, he remain sitting motionless.
Zwey crashes through the remains of a wall, sending soot and charcole in all directions. He finds the drakna and shouts, "Take the hand of the Hodgepodge!" (heal 4)
Zwey then realized he had healed a table, and turns around to see the drakna on the ground on the other side of the tavern, and proceeds to crash thought the other wall to the aid of the wayward lizardfolk.
A light wind blew against the side of Galdor's hood as he walked through town. Just having finished renovating his tree, the elf felt that it was necessary to see what was going on in Jastrey that day. As he walked past the destroyed remains of the Shady Corner, he noticed the large Angori that offered him the rabbit on his first day home, and that he was stooped over a drakna that he had seen only once. Galdor tightened his hood over his head and began walking away. But the better part of him compelled him to stop and think again. "Curse the elders," Galdor muttered under his breath as he rushed into the remains. "Come on, lets drag him out of here. Don't need any of this wreckage to hurt him more than he is," Galdor said to the Angori with little emotion in his voice.
The second loud crash of the Angori pushing through a wall brought the Drakna a bit back to his senses. Even so, his reaction time was incredibly slow. It wasn't until the Angori stopped its movements completely before he looked up.
Light from the healing spell bathed over him as he stared at the Angori, seemingly confused as what to do about this stranger. He decided that he intended no harm as he did just heal him, and started to avert his gaze to the ground again when he saw the elf approaching. As he got closer, and before a word was said from him to the Angori, Raktilvenaesiix quickly jumped to his feet and assumed a battle position. He went to start his incantation, but realized he couldnt remember it. A look of confusion danced across his face and then he fell to his rear, staring at the ground hopelessly once more.
The Drakna glanced at the Angori's hand for a brief moment, but then quickly looked back down. Then only moments passed before he realized that he would get no where acting as he is. He looked back up at the two at his side with a look of new found determination, stood up and said, "et kriiam dakezul..."
He stopped mid sentence. Confusion danced over his face once more. That wasn't what he wanted to say. At least, not in that tounge.
He tried again, "dakek dakezul et?" Frustrated, he stomped his foot. If it was going to be like this, it was not going to be easy.
Galdor stood straight in a less threatening way, yet refusing to remove his hand from the hilt. "I'm afraid we don't understand your tongue, sir," Galdor said. He then realized the drakna probably couldnt understand him either. The elf stooped over and picked up a broken and charred piece of table leg. "Maybe, you can draw it out?" the elf recommeneded as he did his best to draw out the drakna in the dirt. He held it out to the stranger, being sire to keep a cautious eye on him.
Perplexed and relieved, Raktilvenaesiix accepted the Angori's help to stand.
"Jastery? et viilkethnilan nan zakiin. hathkuannik hii viikethnilannik, et raknilzul dafek..." he trailed off. "fethkezul... na venae tem kranesiida et? tem venae hathkuan Drakna? dakek..."
He shook his head, "et naksiida. sekam hii nanzii akiinsiida. et kriiam dakezul Raktilvenaesiix." He extends his hand towards the duo, "tik tem kriiamfas dakezul?"
Zwey chuckles, 'I too am new here, we can learn the town together. I cannot speak your tongue, as angori tongues are not made for that." Zwey continues to grin and laugh he runs over to his wagon, and returns with 3 flagons brimming with sweet honey ales. "One of my brothers is a drakna, when he came to us, he knew no words of the common tongue, i learned a goodly amount of his tongue while he learned ours" He proffers the containers to those assembled, along with some bread and cured meat. "Courtesy of the Gallimaufry, and I am Zwey Gurkha, a pleaure to meet you Raktilvenaesiix"
Galdor declined the ale but accepted the bread as to not be rude. "You understand him? I can't make any sense to his strange language." Galdor took a small bite from the bread. "Why exactly were you lying out in this heap? I'm sure you could have found a more suitable place somewhere." the elf asked Raktilvenaesix. While the foreigner intrigued Galdor, he still wasn't sure if he was to be trusted.
Taking the ale and meat from Zwey, he replied to the elf, "et viilkethnilan na et katethefannik kek. et hathefan riinak, et raknilzul dafek. lek tem hathnilfan tem kriiam, Elf."
He then turned to Zwey, "drek kranenilda et. venazil tem raenakuan dek et?"
Within seconds, he downed the ale. Then, taking small bites at a time of the meat, he waited for the exchange between the two.
"He doesn't recall as to why he is laying here. Also, you have not given your name, sir elf. " Zwey sets the declined mug in front of the Drakna, Zwey takes a hearty pull from his drink, lets out a long and deep belch out before continuing, "I'll return in a moment, let me procure some seating." He turns and starts towards his wagon, grabs the tongue, and drags it along side the pair before disappearing into it from the back. The top half of the side of the wagon drops down to for a bar, and two stools are set in front of it, outside the wagon. "Have a seat sirs, rest yourselves, sample my beverages." He goes to the end of a row of casks, and drinks a little water from it, then fills a glass with the water, and sets it for the elf.
Galdor took a sip of the water given to him. "How rude of me to forget. It's Galdor," the elf said to the drakna. "I take it you can understand me, as you seem to acknowlege Zwey here. If you don't know how you got here, then can you atleast tell us where you were beofore?" Galdor shifted his weight, removing his hand from his hilt. He didnt want to put off a threatening tone.
Raktilvenaesiix took the declined mug and downed it as fast as the first one. Wiping his mouth, he looked to the duo and said, "fen, kun daek dakezul kun daek. danan dakezul akiin kaina dakezul et edek."
He said these things, but knew otherwise. If only slighty, and for a moment, his face reflected this thought. He then placed the mug on the bar and motioned to Zwey, "aknavii et kiinlekezul kalek?"
Zwey stands aside and sweeps his arm wide, as to show the casts at hand, "Well, good sir, what do you desire, where do your tastes run? I came across an apple tree this past season, made some fantastic cider. I have more of the honey mead you have been sipping, if you so choose. Pumpkins! I made a small batch of that as well, it tastes like pie. Or, i have this wonderful contraption." He pulls a hose with a narrow bent pipe at the end, and trigger not unlike one you would find on a crossbow, "from this water infused with air comes, with it i can combine a sweet syrup to make a fizzy sweet beverage" Along the back wall, he pulls down a bottle with a clear liquid that does not hold bubbles, as water would. With a grin, he fills a small glass with it, and set it before the dragon kin with smile. "Or would you prefer something stronger?" Zwey then lights the beverage on fire.
The different drinks unamused the elf. And he didn't trust these "bubbly" drinks, especially when it was lit on fire. He looked to the angori. "Please translate. I have'nt the slightest idea what he's saying." Galdor took a drink of his water, content in its lack of bubbles.
"Oh! Yes, of course, he says he does not remember, but he looks forward to his future" Zwey then blows out the flaming liquor, quaffs it, and makes horrendous face. "This really is better cold." He chuckles as he pulls the pumpkin ale and sets the tankard down in front of the Drakna. "You, my scaly friend, need a nick name, the tongues of other races get tired pronouncing Raktilvenaesiix"
Raktilvenaesiix heard and understood every word that Zwey said, but for some reason it just did not process. He shook his head slightly to see if he could end the sensation, but to no avail.
He started to feel a pressure in his head. Slight at first, but it grew larger and larger until he was unable to bear it. Slowly the world began to sway and blur. He looked up at at Zwey and said, "et dexsiinilda ixna... et driinka thaxezulnik..."
On top of staying conscious, it was all he could do to relay his pain. "et narezul et niilzakuan zane." He stood up to walk away. In the hindsight moments after, he didn't know why. He didn't have a home here and there was no place he knew to sleep. For some reason though, his body was acting of it's own accord as if it knew something he didn't. While he didn't know where he was slowly stumbling off to, it would be apparent to anyone familiar with Jastery that he was heading towards the mines.
Regardless of any attempts to stop him, not that he could understand anyone right now anyway, he continued forward, curious to find out what his body knew but he didn't. He made it about 10 meters before he fell down unconscious.
"I don't think giving him the ales right after waking up was the greatest decision." Galdor said as he looked to the Angori. The elf finished off his water and gave the glass back. "You might want to carry him to the Healer's Den. I would but I have more pressing matters to attend to now that he isn't dead. Galdor redrew his hood, hiding his eyes, as he walked off into the woods.
"Well, what do we have here," said Cail aloud as he walked up to the unconsious Drakna. He cocked his head to the side to look at the prone form and then dropped to a knee beside him. Cail patted him firmly on the side of the face as he said, "Hey! Wake up, scaly breeches. There are plenty of other places to lie down without blocking the flow of traffic."
Zwey bursted out lauging at the staggering Drakna, right up until he fell. He jumps out of the wagon and shouts "Gift of Sudden Sobriety!" (heal 4) as Cail walks up. When he sees the lizard has simply passed out, Zwey falls over laughing. "I should call it a pumpkin liquor!." Zwey stands and looks to the equally burly Cail, we should take him to the better healers, as I feel that he may be beyond my abilities. Give me a moment to make him something to wake up to." Zwey trots back to the wagon, grabs a glass bottle and a wine skin. He fills the bottle with the pumpkin liquor, and the skin with the honey mead. Zwey writes in both common and the drakish tongue to enjoy in moderation next time, on a small piece of paper and attaches it to the bottle before returning to the empyrian. "Lets carry him to the healers den"
Zwey was pulling his bar-gon to the cortyard of the now ruined tavern. He notcied movement from within, drops his harness, and sprints (as fast a large angori can) to the tavern, a healing spell on his tongue, ready to help any missed survivors.