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ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

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First Husband - M!DB/Borgakh 2/??

[(Anonymous)]

Borgakh dropped their packs and drew her blade while Dyce ducked out the way of more Forsworn arrows.

“Don’t pull it!” she commanded. “They’re barbed.”

“I guess I can learn to live with it then,” Dyce said through gritted teeth as he drew his own bow. Husband? Husband? He’d have to worry about it later.

They’d been ambushed by a small group, and thankfully the alarm hadn’t been raised at the camp; at least, not yet. Borgakh charged down the slope, battering aside arrows with her shield. Dyce picked a rock to crouch behind and took aim at the opposing archers.


It hurt to breath and to pull back his bow, but he didn’t think he was going to pass out or anything as drastic as that, and despite the awkwardness of having an arrow in his way, his aim wasn’t off. The last light in the western sky silhouetted the archers, while in the gloom below them in a small dip, Borgakh battled the warriors.

Dyce killed quietly. Borgakh did not. Her sword and shield rang against her enemies and she shouted with rage and glee as she lopped off another Forsworn head. Dyce frowned and listened.

He heard what he feared he might; shouts of alarm from the settlement behind them. He winced as he took a breath to raise his voice, “They’ve heard us! We have to go.”

They paused for a moment. It looked like they’d wiped out the patrol. Borgakh, apparently inexhaustible, ran back up the slope and scooped up their packs.

“This way,” Dyce said weakly, indicating a southerly direction with an outstretched hand. “Rorikstead’s in that direction. We can stay there.”

“Lean on me if you need to,” Borgakh said, her sword still drawn and sticking close by his side as they hurried away, every jolting step sending pain blooming through Dyce’s chest. He wanted to cough. He didn’t. He suspected it would be a bad idea if he did.

They slowed and stopped once they’d put some distance between them and the Forsworn camp. They waited, listening, for a few moments.

“I think we lost them,” Dyce said. “What do I do about this? Can you fix it?”

To his relief, Borgakh nodded. “Depending on where it is, I can cut it out or push it through. But I’ll need better light. How far is Rorikstead?”

“I have no idea,” Dyce said. “Pass me a potion, would you?”

“No. Healing the wound around the arrow will only make it worse to take out later. I’m sorry, husband.”

“Why are you calling me that?”

“Because we are married,” she said simply.

“We most certainly are not!”

“You paid my dowery. By Orc custom, we are married.”

“I never agreed to be married.”

“You paid my dowery.”

In the dark he couldn’t read her expression. Tired and in pain he gave up for now, and they walked side by side to Rorikstead.

They acquired a room at the Frostfruit Inn without trouble, despite the late hour and Mralki recognised Dyce and asked if there was anything he could do to help his injured guest. Erik wasn’t in evidence, but given Mralki’s attitude, Dyce thought it safe to assume his adventuring was going well.

“I can handle it,” Borgakh said, dumping their packs on the floor and indicating that Dyce should sit on the bed.

Dyce sat in silence as Borgakh knelt in front of him and prodded his wound with a wickedly sharp orcish dagger.

“I need to cut it out,” she said, looking up into his face. “It’s not in too deep. Your armour was good for something.”

“That is why I wear it. Do what you have to- nargh!”

“Don’t move!”

“Yeah yeah.”

Dyce gritted his teeth and after some mercifully quick field surgery, Borgakh yanked the arrow free and offered a healing potion up to his lips.

“I can do it myself,” Dyce said, taking the bottle and upending it.

Borgakh stood and left the room, and Dyce could hear her asking Mralki for some food. Dyce undid his armour and pulled it and the blood stained undershirt off to better examine his brand new scar. He’d have to patch his armour as well, he noted, but it wasn’t a large hole.

All in all, he thought, as he ran his hand over his ribs, he’d had worse.

“He’s going to heat up some stew,” Borgakh said when she returned.

“I see. Thanks for digging that arrow out.”

“Of course, husband.”