Chronicles of Draezoln

Tales of the world of Draezoln

Chapter 11-5

Garkhen awoke suddenly. It was dark, but that was no difficulty for his draconic eyes. He sat up and looked around. He did not recognize where he was for a moment, but as he awakened more fully, he realized that it must be a small tent that had been set up for him. Or perhaps it had already been prepared for the care of the wounded. Whatever the case, he was sitting on a bedroll, with a large chest next to him. He opened it, and was glad to find his armor and other equipment neatly stored within.

The hazy memory of waking up to Lt. Ailill’s voice returned to him. So he was clearly under the care of the healers. Carefully he got up. His stomach growled, and Garkhen realized he was quite famished. He spoke the word for his armor, and waited as the pieces took their places. Given the darkness, it must be night, which was likely why no one had yet noticed he was awake.

Once he was fully equipped, he lifted the tent flap and stepped outside. He could see he was in the midst of the camp, but few fires burned. It was a cloudy night, so there was little enough light around. There were other small tents nearby, and beyond them a small fire. Feeling the emptiness of his stomach, he walked towards the fire as quietly as he could.

Quietly for a half-dragon half-dwarf in full plate mail is… not very quiet. While he hoped he had not disturbed any who were sleeping, he had not even made his way into the light of the fire before he could see a young human female looking over in his direction.

“Oh!” She said as she saw him. “We didn’t think you would awake before morning. Master Ailill said you had exhausted yourself quite thoroughly, on top of your wounds.”

She frowned, odd shadows playing across her face in the firelight. “You should not be wearing armor with those wounds!”

“Ah…” Garkhen paused. He had not thought of that. “They… do not pain me.”

The healer pointed sternly at a stool by the fire. “Sit, where I can take a look.”

Obediently, Garkhen sat by the fire. The healer looked him over, her expression growing increasingly confused.

“I was told you had many cuts through your armor,” she said at last. “Where are they?”

Surprised, Garkhen looked at himself as well as he could. His armor seemed pristine, as if it had been freshly forged, not as if it had been torn at by demons the day before.

“Ah… It would seem that my armor has repaired itself,” he said, uncertainly. After a moment’s pause, he added, “I believe my injuries were here, and here, and here, and on my tail,” he indicated several different locations on himself. “But truly, they are not troubling me.”

The healer slowly shook her head in disbelief. After a few seconds, she said, “Well, then, what do you need?”

“I am feeling rather hungry,” Garkhen said, with a slight smile. “I suspect it was my appetite that awakened me.”

She nodded. “Well, you have been asleep for many hours. We do have some bread and dried meats, and I could warm some broth…”

“The bread and meat will be sufficient, I think,” Garkhen replied, not wanting to make her do unnecessary work.

She went over to a nearby tent, entered, then came out with a plate with the bread and meat upon it. Garkhen took it with a word of thanks and ate quietly. Once the healer was certain he was well, she moved off to check on a few other patients.

While he ate, Garkhen wondered briefly at his armor. He had not thought about it before, but its ability to repair itself was truly remarkable. He wished he knew more of its history. Surely it had served in other battles than those ancient ones Solkh’Tolkharkha had told him of.

Once he was done eating, the half-dragon found himself feeling weary again. When the healer returned, he told her he was returning to bed. She watched him go with a look of concern, but said only that he should check his wounds.

When he was back in the tent, he again took off his armor, thinking briefly that it was odd he had even put it on. But as he realized just how much of a treasure it was, he found he was increasingly reluctant to let it out of his sight. Once it was done, he checked over himself, and found that his wounds were already mostly healed. Garkhen wondered if his earlier healing spell-prayer had been a more powerful one than he had thought. But then weariness told him it was time for sleep, and so he lay down again and drifted off.


Garkhen goes to sleep, and so do I. Good night!

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