OOC: Tags to
@MadEmperor ------------------------------------
"The Stairway to Cleven is a fearsome task. Not many use it as it once was used, but were time not of the essence, I would take the roads about, the spiral way up the Cleven Plateau, and deliver the herbs myself. I won't not consider taking those stairs again, not with me old bones and my lamed up leg," the old woman went on, hobbling across the small room, a leftward lean into her cane.
Gemla had already traveled a great distance to get here, the woman herself picking her out in the crowd and implored urgency on a mission- one she was willing to pay. It was a bit unsettling when humans approached her, especially ones by themselves, but apparently the woman had heard of Gemla on her recent travels to the town, and offered her a fair price to help deliver medicinal herbs to the old woman's grandson, who lived with his family in the secluded town of Cleven.
She knew enough about Cleven to know it was known for it's beautiful scenery- having it's plot of land on the top of a steep plateau with just two access ways to the top. There was a long, winding road that, although treacherous on even a good day, was a far safer and easier route than the famous 'Stairway to Cleven'- an insanely tall and steep stairway that went from the bottom of the cliff clean to the top- carved mostly from the plateau wall itself, except where it parted ways and the need to use wood covered the trek where otherwise a path could not despair. Apparently this little old lamed up lady needed to get the herbs to her grandson, or he might not live through the night. A wailing sickness had befallen half the town, and unless relief was administered within the first signs of the sickness, survival was slim to near impossible.
And the crow's note came but two days ago, and the old woman had been ready to make the trek up the stairs herself, but had fallen and nearly broken her hip, and was begging to find someone up for the task. But no dragon riders were to be found, and all with magical talents of the sort were either indisposed or not currently in the town. That left her only options adventurers, of which she was getting desperate- having little money and little connection to either.
Gemla was halfway through a beer, resting on her way home from her travels from another menial but long winded task. She was tired and eager to head home, so it was strange to be approached for help at all- normally her kind were often ignored, but perhaps that was why she had been sought out, and Gemla hadn't the heart to turn the old woman away.
"So you need me to travel up the Stairway to Cleven," she deduced.
The old woman nodded, her frown deepening before she turned to set a wicker basket upon the table. She patted the closed lid.
"Inside are the herbs my grandson needs. Thistle socks, witten-low, carmamona flour and a cinder rose."
Gemla wasn't familiar with any of those herbs, and raised a brow questionably.
The old woman smiled.
"They are to be brewed as a tea, filtered through the cinder rose and drank on empty a stomach. 'Tis a family remedy, my great grandfather suffered the same illness and it cured him nary a day. But he had drank it good and fast, and time is of the utmost importance. My grandson will need to drink this before the next sunrise, or it may be too late."
Gemla frowned at all of this. That gave her less than a day for the trek, and the stairway was still a ways from the road.
"Will I have enough time for the task? The staircase..."
"Is doable," the old woman interjected, taking Gemla's hand and imploring her. "I can only offer but a copper piece and my silver tea set as a price-"
Gemla stood, pressing the old woman's hand back to her lap and frowned.
"I will take the copper, but not the silver. I would hate to take more than that in case I don't make it."
The old woman looked relieved.
"So you will do this?" She was positively shaking. Gemla nodded. "Oh, bless you child. May the great gods of the hills watch over you and yours. And bring you luck and haste on your journey."
She explained to Gemla where her grandson's house had been, that once she reached the top of the staircase that she need only take the main road and the third left and the house was at the end of the path with the family name carved into the wooden door-
Wittmy.So with basket in hand and a large jug of water refilled, Gemla began her quest to the great stairway- which already took her nearly half the hour to approach. The stairway was quite the sight- tall and narrow, going up as if to the heavens. She couldn't even see the top, and it was so steep she nearly lost her nerves before even attempting. But then she recalled how the old woman looked, how desperate she was- and though Gelma was desperate herself to go home, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she hadn't agreed to help the poor woman out.
So with one boot in front of the other, Gemla began to long and arduous ascent to the plateau of Cleven.
Rumor had it, if you were fast, the stairway trail took only a few hours- where as the spiral path that lead up the mountain took almost the week. Gemla wasn't even twenty minutes in before she was already red faced, despite her complexion, and sweaty and laboring of breath. She didn't want to drink already, but her lungs were burning and her legs, begging for a rest. She didn't feel she was out of shape in the least, and in fact, kept herself in top shape with daily runs and other exercising feats to keep her strength and speed about her-
But these stairs...
Another hour in and she gave in, took a seat and opened her water pouch and downed a good bit. But she had to stop herself. She needed to save enough for the remainder of the journey. And where she sat now on the narrow steps, the sight was something else- to be able to see a great distance through the trees. And the look down-
She wish she hadn't.
One wrong step meant death, and she still had quite a number of steps to go.
Was she even half way there? The only thing she could be thankful for as she started up the stairs again, was that the winds were picking up. However.. on the other hand...
She peered over at the distant horizon. Were those storm clouds rolling in? What luck if it were- how much more treacherous could the stairs become when slick with rain and wind? So, drawing in a breath, Gemla forced herself to move faster up the stairway.
She had a little boy to save, some medicine to deliver and copper to make- of which she refused to take until she returned. She just hoped she could make it in time. To think about that poor child suffering, and with his life on the line...
Gemla moved even faster still, tapping into her more disciplined spirit and pushed and moved as best she could-
and was surprised that, about a little over halfway up the stairway...
Another person was coming
down.It was known these stairs rarely had any traffic. A few people a month at best. So of
course on her maiden journey she had to deal with someone going the opposite way. It wasn't as if either side of the stairs allowed for two to fit- let alone a half orc
woman and another to fit. And this man was carrying a heavy load on his back, and had some momentum behind each step. He wouldn't be able to stop easily, and was in quite the hurry.
Gemla cursed and looked to the crags beside the trail. They looked lose and worn, but there was enough of a foot hole that she took a grip to the rail and stepped over, leaning out in such a way to give the man and his cargo passage so they could make it through. The man hardly gave more than a nod as he passed through, feet stomping on the wooden portion of the steps that made up most of this trek of the journey, for the plateau face had since collapsed from the trail and wooden steps had replaced it.
Gemla held her breath as the man passed, uncertain of her own footing, but not daring to challenge the rubble holding her weight. But as the man as just near pass, a damn part of his large cargo smacked the side of her head. She must not have been leaning away far enough from the staircase and she was seeing stars- and her hands, slipping from the rail. And she felt herself go down- and her heart leaping near through her mouth.
The first thing she did was tucked the basket of herbs to her belly and tried fiendishly to roll
towards the underbelly of this portion of the wooden stairs than the other way- which would have meantcertain death. And as she did so, her body hit off the craggy plateau side and Gemla began to slide beneatht he stairway path and down, down, down through a plum of dusty debris her body kicked up and it seemed she wasn't losing any speed.
She had to think fast, lest she tumble away from the staircase- or plow clean through it at her speed. So she did the only thing she could think of, and pulled her dagger from her thigh pouch and tried to use it to find purchase, only it was a useless task as the first time she struck at the wall, it was forced from her hand from the impact, and the half orc woman nearly went flying from the rock face wall.
She hadn't time to think or use anything else, and threw herself bodily at the next large crag nearest the trail she could make heads or tails of-
and by the might of the Gods, she found purchased and halted in her tumble, coughing as she caught her breath as dust and debris clouded all around her, and the winds from the approaching storm offering little consolation as Gemla grimaced and realized her body stung from a thousand gashes all over her body.
At least she had stopped.
And at least she was alive.
And she still had the wicker basket, tucked close, and still sealed, holding the hopeful herbs.
As she was catching her breath, she noticed the man that had passed her going about his way without a second thought back to Gemla's fallen form. It was probably just as well. She leaned back into the rock and closed her eyes a moment, trying to get her wits about her before she'd make the attempt to climb from beneath the wooden staircase to on top of it to begin her journey again.
For herbs and hope and a scared little sick boy.
Storm be damned. She got this. She was no meager human, and slowly she began to climb over the railing and back onto the wooden steps. A tickle at her nose had her wiping off some blood to her wrist, which made her frown. Great, a nose bleed. But what else wasn't bleeding? She ignored it. A nose bleed would hardly be the end of her. But as she turned to secure her footing on the path and took another step onward-
She spotted yet
another figure further up the path, making their journey downwards.
"Really?" she growled under her breath, glaring up at the skies as if glaring at the Gods themselves. The skies only answered in a rumble of distant thunder.
