Morning after the Break. (Brix laments over new his disability)

Brix’tul sat in his Tabard chewing on a end of a long twig, watching the line form for the portal. A harsh furrow pressed down on his brow. He huffed to himself and looked down at his wrapped arm. Shortly after waking this morning he’d decided to leave the sling off. It was better that way, in case anyone he knew saw him. At least they wouldn’t be able to tell from a far. He shifted his weight and winced at the uncomfortable dull ache that remained in his arm. Pulling the twig from his mouth, he jabbed it underneath the splint’s brace and scratched at an itch. However, it seemed as though where ever he reached, it was not the true location of the itch. Frustration built up inside of him, and he began to torque the twig around inside the sling with more fervor. There was no shock when it snapped in half, leaving the part inside unreachable without undoing the splint. He let out a discouraged sigh and tossed the remaining half into a small pile of other broken twigs beside him.

“Lok’tar, Brother!”
Something bumped his right shoulder hard, and Brix snapped his head to look, seeing a familiar grinning Orc dressed in similar garb beside him.
“DON’ do t’at!”
He swung his right fist down into the boot of the Orc, punching as hard as he could muster.  Unfortunately, the boots were lined with steel and caused little disturbance to the orc, and left Brix with bruised knuckles as he tried to shake it off. The orc tossed his head back in an amused laugh watching him flail his hand about.

“If you do not hurry, you will get stuck in  that line all day.”
“Yeah, I know. I was eh- Jus’ waitin’ fer a ..friend…” Brix looked back down at the orc’s boots incredulously, finally ceasing the shaking of his hand- since it wasn’t helping anyway.

“Very well, see you on the other side, then.” The Orc gave a curt nod and was on his way over the hill to the line. Brix watched him go, like a child watching their parents leave them alone for the first time. The feeling of being left out welled inside him, causing him to clench his jaw subconsciously.

THIS is holding me back. This ONE stupid incident could be my undoing. And what? I’m just going to let them see that a tiny break is all it takes to extinguish me in battle? This is what renders me useless. That’s the message I’m sending.

The itch was still present, so he reached over with his good hand and rubbed at the wrapping. He’d broken the arm before, of course not in this place or this bad. But that time it hadn’t taken more than a day to be ready for basic use again.

So. Stupid, Brix.

He stared down at the broken arm and dug his fingers under the wraps. There was a moments pause before he began tearing at the cloth straps on the splint, not taking time to untie them. Adrenaline withheld any feelings of discomfort and he twisted and ripped at the fabric. His arm exposed, he carefully slid off the board on the bottom and laid his wrist on the top of his thigh.
In truth, his arm was swollen to about twice the size still.  The dark blue bruising had taken over much of its original colouring from his bicep down. Worse, it still looked… lumpy. He went to bend his hand into a fist, and managed only to get about a quarter inch of movement out of any of his digits. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead as he struggled to use his arm. He lifted his elbow and his hand drooped unnaturally still.

This is going to take forever.

Brix set his arm back down, sliding the plank of wood back under it to splint it again. He took the usable scraps of cloth he had accidentally spared and used them to retie his arm to the board. Narrowing an eye, he glanced it over hoping he’d done it right. He knew that it didn’t hold a candle to the care he’d gotten from Shayna the night before, but it would last him the day. Or at least until he would be able to get some more fabric to secure this better.

He stood carefully, rethinking his previous choice about the sling. Cradling his poorly slung arm with his right hand, he left the pile of torn fabric and broken sticks behind.
Walking back through the threshold of the inn this early in the morning felt like defeat.

Poor behbeh Brix.