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http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Spook%20QuestThe heavy air of Oendal fills my lungs from the second I wake, Alison having already slipped out to call a doctor to the room. The inn smells like stale beer and old smoke, and it still is more friendly than being on the streets, the snow outside starting to pile up to shin height.
The doctor avoids mentioning the brand Mr Johnson received on his leg, with little more than a raised eyebrow, “Broken rib...s” The doctor notes, feeling around my masters chest, “Two of them, and some internal bleeding that’s…. closed up.” He nods, “Breathing is laboured, best be careful he doesn’t get fluid in his lungs.” He reaches for a bag, forcing some liquid into the old man’s mouth. “Should help.” He nods, setting the bottle down. “Once a day.” He turns to face the three of you, “He needs to rest up, at least a fortnight. Can’t take him anywhere, not in this weather, he’d be dead before the day’s done.”
Shit.
We pay him a little extra, a silent agreement that he won’t mention the brand between us, before sending him on his way.
If we’re going to be here at least two weeks while the spook heals up, we’re going to NEED more money.
We build up the heat in his room, thinking quietly, as our new… co-dweller fusses over the spook. Sarah, she said she’s the daughter of a ‘healing woman’ more than likely her mother was a witch, who never got pulled over to use dark magic, and it seems the daughter is the same.
Still, doubt Mr Johnson- still don’t even know his full name for that matter- would like an alleged witch looking after him.
She sits back soon enough, still in pain from her fate at the hands of the church, while I try to think of a way to earn some coin, at least enough for a few days.
>Got to be some spook work that needs dealing with, look around town.>Snow shovelling, hard work, but it’ll pay decent>See if you can work around the inn, pay’s not great, but it’s warm>Write in 