The Hut of Your Jib (Durmot/Kolos)

[Durmot]

It had been such a promising morning, and yet what did Durmot end up with? A Revenant's claws to the ribs. Possibly poisonous ones, which is why the mercenary was currently hustling down the beaten path that lead towards town with one hand clamped firmly to his side. At least, he was mostly sure that it was the right direction. Durmot had already been separated from the other mercs, and rotten luck like that almost guaranteed he was going to make a stupid mistake like marching in the wrong direction.

Oh well. He was better off just running than dwelling on it.

The first structure Durmot came across was a small hut on the outskirts, and he slowed to a stop as he drew alongside it. There didn't seem to be anyone outside, but maybe there was someone inside with medical supplies, or even a vulnerary. It'd certainly be nicer to get treated here instead of having to walk the rest of the way, so Durmot walked up to the door and knocked. There was no response. Normally he wouldn't have bothered trying to open the door, but the wound in Durmot's side was ever so insistent.

It was unlocked.

Heh. Foolish. You never know when an axe-toting meathead might barge in and drip blood all over your clean floors.

Durmot knew there was a chance he'd regret breaking into someone's hut and rifling through their stuff, but he went in anyway. The hut's owner would understand, wouldn't they? After all, they lived here in Laus, where walking corpses were a fact of life. All he needed was basic medical supplies. Durmot figured that, even if things went sour, he could simply show his cut up side and smooth things over with words.

When he stepped inside and looked at the interior, though, his first thought was that someone had broken in looking for something. Then he amended that: someone broke in looking for something before him. Durmot stepped gingerly around the chaos of papers, notes, vials, and... things that looked suspiciously like they were hacked off of some poor monster. He was unsure where to even start, since burglary was about as far from Durmot's area of expertise as you could get, but settled on checking the single shelf in the room.

Durmot didn't recognize any of the unlabeled bottles on the shelf, but spent far too long staring and wondering if one of them might be an antiseptic, or even a vulnerary.

[Kolos]

What a morning it had been so far. Kolos had woken up to continue his research by studying through some of the texts he had lying around, which funnily enough did turn out to be written by Clover. Oh how that funny seer would laugh at that fact. Speaking of the seer, he took a small break outside to be met with the strange character who rather enjoyed his lemons. It was about this time that Kolos had decided he should venture into the town's market to see if they had anything worth his purchase with the small amount of money he had.

Spoiler: They didn't.

Kolos had begun his adventure back home to his hut. That made it sound like it was like miles upon miles away, though in reality it was just a small one. He may live on the outskirts of town, but it didn't take him long to head in.

They must have been having a sale on lemons... Or that man just bought a lot of them. That was the least amount of lemons I have ever seen there. Plus, there weren't any good materials for sale... What a bore.

Kolos thought about what he should do with the rest of his day, when he decided he might want to go take some field notes. Of course he had left his notebook for such events back at his home. Upon closer inspection, Kolos' eyes grew wide eyed like a deer.

What the- Why is my door open?!

And so Kolos begun running towards the entrance way.

Tick tock, time's a wastin'.

[Durmot]

Durmot continued to inspect the widest bottle, turning it over in his hands to look for a label, an inscription, anything... but no dice. He came surprisingly close to just uncapping it and taking a sip, but (wisely) stopped right there. Winners don't drink mysterious liquids.

After turning the bottle upright once more, Durmot placed it back on the shelf, leaving a bloody smear there as he pulled his hand back. His left hand was still pretty bloodied, and as much as he wanted to, this wasn't the time or place to go wiping it off on his trousers. He covered up the wound again, putting pressure on it while he tried to trace the best path around the scattered junk strewn across the floor.

Apparently focusing on one hand and two feet at the same time was too much for Durmot, because he immediately managed to stumble over a small wooden stool and knock some hard, leathery object to the floor. It bounced ever so slightly towards the door, and Durmot addressed it with a murmured, "Sorry, bud," while nudging it underneath the wooden table with his boot. One might be tempted to say he did this because the Revenant's poison was making its way into his brain, but in reality Durmot was just the type of person who apologizes to severed gargoyle ears.

If it weren't for the ear, though, he might not have had any inclination that someone was running up the path. From behind the door, Durmot could hear the faint sounds of someone coming from further down the road. A person who Durmot realized was booking it towards the door. His eyes went wide and utter dismay swept across his face.

Yeah, there was no way he was getting out of here before this stranger came in. Durmot knew well enough to accept that and act accordingly, so he let himself fall to one knee and turned his torso. He presented his right side – that is, his fighting side, his injured side – and promptly doubled over, hanging his head in exaggerated pain.

It happened so very fast, the figure appeared in the doorway before Durmot considered himself fully prepared to act more injured. Didn't mean he had a choice, though, so Durmot blinked and looked up at the black-cloaked man and struggled to explain himself without breaking into involuntary laughter. "Ho, friend! Think you, ah, could help a guy out?" He held up one bloody hand, gesturing to his torn shirt and bloody side as if he were showing it off to the world. "Had a, ah, rough run-in with some undead fellows. H-have you got any medical whatsits, if you could spare that'd be reeaally greeaat!"

Even if he was trying his level best to keep a serious face, Durmot was utterly failing. Case in point, the wide grin across his face as he begged for help from someone whose house he'd just broken into.

[Kolos]

Mysterious bottles are Kolos' specialty. Nothing says winner like taking a dive of bravery by drinking a liquid that no one, but the creator knows is. Speaking of things only the creator knows is, to any normal person, Kolos would expect them to not realize what anything crumpled on his floor is. Any other researcher probably knows all too well the feelings of crumpling their research papers and throwing them on the floor in frustration. Kolos is also just bad at cleaning things up, so he just memorizes where he puts them.

If there is blood on his stool, Kolos is not going to be happy. If you throw his hard fought and earned gargoyle ears around, then he will especially not be happy. The man had to go tracking those things for hours just to get some.

Either way, everyone knows the saying.

Gotta go fast.

And Kolos most certainly is going fast as he runs into the doorway of his home. Before entering, he heard some shifting, which indicated that someone was most definitely still there. He pulled out his tome, ice cold gaze penetrating the large man sprawled out on his floor, leaking blood where he went.

Oh this was just rich. Not only was he being robbed, it was by someone who thought they actually would stand a chance in an injured state. "First, I am not your friend." The big man made Kolos angry now, especially with that failed attempt of acting. Kolos might not be the best critic of acting, but he knew when someone was just really bad at it. "Second, you have five seconds to tell me your name, and try to reason with me why I shouldn't use the power of the Nether on you right now to end your existence seeing as you broke into my home and ruined my perfect set up."