Closed [Sacred Arch Hotspring]Hot Water on a cool day[Sighard]

[Clyde Sullins]

64 Fall 512 It was always nice to schedule in breaks. And already Clyde needed one... Having run into a Ethaefal the night before, and getting worked up at that... And a few days before that, getting into a fight and killing a bandit... Meh, he had ended up with a new ally, but had to do some more reimancy, which he tried to not do to close to Syliras... But at times he was forced. Today he just wanted a day to himself, alone, and really hoped no one else would show up. He was probably going to camp out for the knight, as the place was pretty safe. There was little chance of wild animals coming up, when it was so visited by humans. He started out by getting some firewood, gathering up some twigs and branches from the surrounding woods. Then he found a nice thick log, which would burn well once he got it lit through. Next to it, he set down his gear, his pack, and his staff, which he made sure to keep separate from the firewood, and disrobed, before hopping into the waters and its warm embrace. It was nice to get in, as there was a cool wind blowing today, which was a bit chilly. He was not looking forward to getting out. He whistled, and motioned for Rye to get in. The dog paused for a moment, and then did, doggy paddling around. He was probably a better swimmer than Clyde. Clyde relaxed, lying his arms up against the walls of the pool of water, and tilting his head back, as his canine guard splashed around.

[Sighard]

For Sighard the word break was but an aesthetic click of the tongue which held about as much weight to him as that of an imaginary feather. There was only the daunting promise of work, layered with training the pushed at the very hems of his mentality and wore his physicality to a nub. He felt as a numb vessel as he trotted along the winding pathways of the Cobalt Mountains, the monotonous thrum of hoof the only acquaintance to the squire that was forced to suffer the bitter cold of a dying autumn. The leaves had long since passed from their trees, and now crumpled against the ground in a dismal brown. In their stead were bare branches that cut deeply into the backdrop of a pale, sunless sky. The smell of an approaching winter was pervasive. Sighard drew his cloak deeply about his mouth so that he did not have to smell it, or anticipate its aching embrace.

Along the pathway of his route there were signs, clear demarcations of travel that grew with intensity as he continued along the trail. He noticed the faint footprints, crossed against each other in weaving patterns which he recognized quite clearly as the footpath that lead to the Sacred Arch Hotsprings. The heavy traffic was not at all an uncommon sight, and the boy would have been more worried to see bare ground and a lack of public utilization. Yet the tracks were old, at least by a full month. As the days grew colder the people of Syliras had begun to withdraw into their homes in preparation for the cold to come. Very few people traveled outside the walls these days for fear of what extended beyond them, and empty roads were prime targets for highwaymen. So it was odd, then, that as Sighard trotted along the ancient stone bridge that ran over the springs that he spied a male, isolated in the spring.

Sighard threw a cursory glance as he jerked the reins of his steep and caused it to neigh in an unsettling manner before it stopped. He did not speak, but rather made note of the makeshift campsite off to the banks of the spring and frowned. Not many dared such a risky venture of opening themselves to the wilderness at night. Even the scouts of the Syliran Knights knew the perils of such tasks and often deferred to shelter when appropriate.

“Hail.” The common introduction reverberated outwards, shattering the stillness of the cool air and rippling against it in an abrasive echo. A plated gauntlet extended outwards and gestured towards Clyde.

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde had been so ready to relax... To be left alone, and soak up the warmth of the waters, letting them loosen him up a bit... But no, it was not meant to be... Clyde let out a sigh, as he heard the voice, "Hail", spoken loudly to him... Clearly to him, as no one else was here... It had been empty, one reason he had come here... Petch the world... Clyde's eyes flicked open, to see Rye swimming for land. He jumped out, and shook once, before barking at the man behind him, putting his body between that of himself and his masters. Clyde just slowly turned on the spot he was sitting in, to look to see who had interrupted. As Clyde saw the armor suited man, clearly a knight, a small frown came upon his lips... Petch, of all of the people to come along, it really had to be a knight? Or some night wannabee, it was hard to tell the difference. He looked the man in the eyes, and let out another sigh, wishing he had his staff with him comfortingly in his grip... Not for defensive value, but just for the sense of familiarity. "Hey." Clyde answered, rather tersely. He looked over the man, wondering if there were other armored fools around... He kept calm, knowing he had done nothing recently to draw down the knights ire.. Well, besides existing, as a mage. That alone was enough to do so, even without using magic in public, or without breaking the rules... "Did you need something?"

[Sighard]

Sighard appeared ambivalent, a construct of uncertain circumstances that separated himself from his idealistic prose. Contrary to his former nature he appeared worn and aged, less an adolescent, and more a young man fostering the weight of one who’d witnessed more then he should have at his age. The intricacies of this notion, however, were blurred given the distance which separated the knight from his respondent, these being the vivid red cracks running along his lines and the unkempt nature of his features which were littered with grime and hair. Granted, he was sober, and so did not present the casual sway that exacerbated his temperament and purported him to rash decision. Instead he was consumed by the withdrawal and the depression, a callous mixture that chipped away at the fiber of his very being and cursed him with a chronic fatigue. He saw himself nearly trot away, in order that he did not have to deal with this man across from him who’d supplied less than friendly tones. These days it was commonplace for denizens to show aggression towards the Knights.

However, protocol dictated that the boy examine every possible avenue of threat on these patrols. He could not, in good conscience leave a man who suspiciously left himself out of the city walls and endangered himself without a viable means of defending himself. The facts all added up to reasonable suspicions that lead his horse backwards across the bridge and along a slope of a hill that ran into Clyde’s campsite. To the squire’s dismay a dog, presumably the man’s, kept his steed uneasily at a distance and he was forced to speak, further than what he comfortably enjoyed during a stop. “You can start by explaining what you’ve got here.” Sighard gestured in a sweeping motion with his arm to the campsite, a puzzled expression complementing the action. “We generally advise against camping in these wilds at night. Though they be safe during the day, these lands be privy to all sorts of predators at night. That firewood you’ve got there,” Sighard paused to point towards Clyde’s gathered branches, “It’s gonna attract nasty things that don’t care much for your company.”

Against the backdrop of his sonorous tones, the agitant growl of a dog rang discordantly. There were several moments where the squire had to pause to complete his sentiment and the blaring headache which had now blossomed served the cause of his unease. What a day. . . “And no offense, friend, but you seem ill-equipped to handle some of the threats I’ve seen carousing through these woods. We’ve rather cheap lodging for travelers within our walls if that suits you?”

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde just stared at the man in armor. Was he a complete petch addled git? Really, he wondered about the intelligence requirement they set for these people, what was this. He was sitting in a well patrolled area, barely a quarter bells walk outside of Syliras, and he was questioning why he was here, and saying it was unsafe. Really? Did this person know anything of Syliras? He looked over at what he gestured to, which was the small pile of wood he had prepared for making a fire later, next to a well used fire pit formed over a long time of people camping here. The dirt of the spot did not exactly scream with the blood of fools who had come here and died. So why was he pestering him over this? This was a more or less safe place. Safer really, since it was not directly under the prying eyes of the knights... "That, sir," He said, putting an odd emphasis on the word sir, as if it was in question of if he actually felt this person was a sir, especially since he was younger than himself... "Is called a fire pit. I did not feel like going around naked and wet finding wood to make a fire later, to dry myself off, so I went ahead and stacked some up first. I kind of need a fire for when I get out, to dry a bit." He kept himself from laughing though as he called this the wilds... He could almost see the castle from here, if not for the trees in the way. "I would not exactly call this the wilds, maybe the edge of them. But nothing much to dangerous comes around here. I assure you I will be fine." Clyde made a single sound to Rye, who immediately quieted down, and ceased his growling, though continued to look at the man with distrust. "Actually, it does not suit me to return. I was just stopping on my way out of Syliras, here. I have a group I am camping with, were I will be perfectly safe. I am sure I can get back to them before nightfall." This was something of a lie, though peppered with truth. Of course, this man had no way of knowing that. Clyde looked at the man, who seemed so self important, feeling he was truly helping people, perhaps even one of the ones who was not yet corrupted... Or at least, to an extent... None of the knights though, were innocent. "I assure you I am fine. Your time would be much better spent helping someone who actually needs it. The Gods alone know how many people are in need of your help, unlike me." This bit, he certainly felt strongly of. How many people needed a knight, and yet was alone or dying or being robbed? Of course he would follow his rules to a T, pestering Clyde uselessly, while others really needed help. He himself had saved one such person, who really needed a knight, when he was attacked by bandits not to far from Syliras. And Clyde had been forced to come to the mans aid... Really, he should be off fighting bandits, not pestering him.

[Sighard]

Contrary to popular belief Clyde was a dime a dozen, a rehashed persona thrown in a different vessel sent out into the world to spite the very existence that was Sighard Beleld. Perhaps it was the abhorrent smell of wet, unwashed dog, or the biting edge of the respondent’s tones that caused the squire to dismount from his steed, but the tones of displeasure were evident in his face. He spoke, though his facial muscles grated against his skin tensely and ripped discordantly against his vocals which struggled to maintain somewhat of an even disposition. Ungrateful little rat. Long gone are the days we could string up these asses. “Take a look around you –petching- twit. A man with half an ear has heard of the devastation the Djed Storms of former spring has brought. This whole petching domain is wild and uneasy. You think a couple of seasons suddenly heal the damage of storm and magic??” Sighard expelled loudly. He synchronized the rant with a pace that slopped noisily against muddy shore.

The young squire had reached the point of no return. He was tired of the irrational logic foreigners had conjured to mar the reputation of the knights. Frankly, most of it was a convoluted twisting of information they used to seem self-important and to paint his organization in a bad light. The reality, however, was that it has never been, and never will be the Knight’s job to appease it’s people, but rather to foster an environment that was safe and provided peace of mind for those aligned morally right. “Frankly, anyone with a moderate appreciation of life stays out of the woods these days. I speak on behalf on the caution of a superior position with information that clearly supersedes yours and mine. Ignore and continue this petty exchange if you wish but I’ll be damned if I’ll have some traveler and his dog condemn my instruction.” His pace slowed, and the heavy wool cloak lapsed about his metal plated legs, then revealing a spear strapped tightly to his shoulder and a blade at his hip. Though he’d removed himself from a superior position atop his horse, he was anything but ill-equipped for confrontation.

Then there were the trot of hooves, a distant harmony that echoed across the cold, lifeless air, and then disappeared. Knights were always within earshot of each other on patrols, and given the circumstances they often paired up when delving into deeper routes. Shallower routes such as this dictated that only one man who knew the lay of the land traverse about them. Yet, even isolated, the squire felt the strength of a company stalking the trails. He would draw upon their help if need be, although his pre-occupation at the time had pushed him from such thoughts.

Clyde, upon further observation, was the type of man Sighard could expect to give him trouble. He seemed the independent type, too unattractive to hold any charismatic sway over a group and so the young squire attributed this to the man’s bitterness. Although that was an unfair presumption, he had also already decided that he did not particularly like this fellow and that something was off about him. Cooly, and after much contemplative silence he responded. “Nowhere is safe these days. Even the bastion of our Stronghold has its limits as I’ve mentioned. I’m curious, though. What camp, outside of our domain, exists to such a degree that people call it safe? –Especially- in the Mountains.”

[Cloud]

From the sky falls your reward!

Clyde :

Experience
Skill | XP Earned
Socialization | +2
Rhetoric | +1
Observation | +1

Lores
• | Lore Earned
None

Sighard :

Experience
Skill | XP Earned
Socialization | +2
Observation | +2

Lores
• | Lore Earned
None

Misc? :

No obtained item or injuries!

I didn't see any useful for lore in this thread, so if you happen to find something I overlooked pm me and let me know!

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