#earthrunes

It's a cold miserable drizzly no good day at Earth Runes

Slush and cold rain splatter and stick, not with the joy of snow, but the ugh of slush!

Oswald, at front road duty, sniffs a bit

The troll feels tired. Odd, normally he's a healthy guy

A cough

Splatter splut

He waves arrivals through, most are changelings, of course, a few nobles. Leonora comes riding in a motorcycle...crazy Fiona, in this terrain that won't have purchase. She could shoot right off the road.

"Hi, Oswald."

Oswald says "Hello, Damn Leonora...gates are open but we're keeping eyes on.. uh out for..." It's hard to think

"out for?" She says

"Strange Chimera..." He answers "Weather changes and the like sometimes encourage them."

"Okay , sure. You okay?" She says

"mm fine" He fights a shiver. Trolls don't shiver. THey are born of northern dreams and arctic wolf tails or something. That's what trolls are made of.

"Okay...seen August? Uhm SIR August?" She asks.

Oswald shakes his head "He's not intoday, but if he comes in this way I can tell him you were uhmn.."What's the word? "Looking"

"Thanks, appreciate it." And she drives past

"And get the right treads at least " He calls after her then sighs. She won't listen. Sidhe don't; listen, and that's okay, he's got his duty. HE's...he shivers again. Why is it so hard to stand up?

He shivers again, and his fingers fumble dropping his spear, why is it so heavy? He bends down to pick it up in the rain.

It might be some time before the feverish troll, fainted and laid out is found in the mud.

Vince wanders down the pathway. It's damp and dreary, but that seems to match his mood as well - he has a parasol over one shoulder to keep the rain from his silk shirt and a cloak wrapped around his shoulders, but neither is the parasol spun gaily nor the cloak flipped flamboyantly as he might usually do. Rather, he seems lost in introspection - enough so that he almost trips and falls in said mud.

"What, ho there! What trickery is this?" Leaning to wipe a bit of mud from his boot.

Who left this troll here?

You can't just leave trolls laying around. It's dangerous.

And, his disdain for the muck disappears in place of concern. Reaching out, he pants Oswald on the cheek, gently at first, then a firmer slap to try to waken some life into him.

"Ahem hem, we are not paying you for sleeping on duty, good Thane... indeed, I am not paying you at all..."

One thing he notices, Oswald is feverish, very HOT to the touch. The slap brings a goan "I donlikespinachmom i don't care if it'll make me big and strong itstinky"

Hrm. An arm thrown around the Troll, and he attempts to lift him to carry inside...

But, the mud is slick and treacherous underfoot, and Vince is unable to handle the weight.

"mmph wh.."

A moment pondering, and Vince reaches into his shirt, waking the small, coiled snake that was cuddled within, enjoying his body heat on a cold day. "Hush, my lovely, no fussing. You are to head straight to the guardsroom mind you, and only two, nae, three moments to dice with the thanes before you fetch someone to give me a hand." The winged red serpent fusses and snaps ineffectually at his fingers, but braves the cold air and heads inside!

Meanwhile, the fine cloak is slung off his shoulders as he kneels in the mud, no longer caring at all about his fine outfit as he props Oswald up out of the cold, and wraps the troll in his cloak. At second thought, the parasol is added at a jaunty angle.

Someone will earn a snack later, oh yes this is cold

Checking pockets... oh yes, of course there is a flask within. A nip of brandy will hopefully fortify Oswald, though Vince has to dribble it between feverish lips.

And Vince, at noble risk of his magnificent mane getting slush in it, gives up his cloak and bumpershoot

And, a nip for courage as well....

a drink "where am? duty... i need to get back to watc..." The troll tries to rise, but isn't very good at it

"Never you mind, fair damsel. " Taking pity on the troll, he adds smoothly, "You've lost track of time, your watch was over a while past and we're just on the way back from the bar. Oh, remember, we were playing my favorite drinking game?" Tone reassuring as he tells Oswald about the shenanigans. The Troll may not be more concerned about his reputation as cavorting with the bartender now, rather than fear of having lapsed in duty.

"Oh wow... I can never go home again" He mutters "No offense. Hey, Vince.. you you don't look so good..."

A coughing, he averts his face while he does it, covering his mouth

"Lies, you foul beast. I always look good." He tries to see if the troll can walk, assisted perhaps?

Thane Rollo, Boggan Guard, comes out "What's the sitch?" Then he sees Oswald down, "Oswald? You look like shit." There's a reason ROllo isn't often given positions of meet and greet.

Vince is helping the feverish Troll up, when Rollo joins him to lift from the other side

"Ah, my good physicker. We are well past due for a leeching, the bad humours seem to have invaded his blood."

cough "'..I'll be fine. trolls don't quit on the job...doner and huty" Oswald insists

"Shaddup," Rollo says with concern to the troll and nods to Vince "Okay, in tandem, here, left right..."

While it seems almost as if the oNLY strength the troll has is oath given, between the three of them, they get the muddy slushy thane out of the rain and inside, Rollo says "Emmaline's got this room she's using for tending, shove him in there or his own room? Chop chop, Vincey. I'm a guard. I need orders here"

"And a hup two three four, sing two threeeeee four... As I came home on a Monday night, as drunk as drunk can be...." He lights into a rollicking drinking song, but it does help keep the cadence. "AH, the fair otter of the Garden, I have not yet met, but her tonics surely must be at least as effectual as mine." Heading to Emmaline's room.

"I dig, brah" The muscled boggan follows the lead

"Let us get him down. Then, one must take his place to guard the path against other ne'er-do-wells, after all, I found my way in. Delores must be alerted, we must find if anyone else is showing signs of sickness. And his room to be aired out lest the bad humours have settled into the linens..." He pauses. "Or the opposite, whichever."