Closed Follow The Wind (Tevinte)

[Colt]

57th of spring, 515 a.v.
mid-morning

“There you are, Dawnwhisper,” was the first thing Shahar heard upon his approach of the Hunter’s Allegiance.

Coaxing Akaidras to a halt, Shahar tossed off a brief greeting to the man that had spoken to him. Tuka sent up a chirp of question, but a signed sit let her know that their pause might take some time. Short-haired and weathered, the man smiled cheerfully at the hunter in spite of the minimalist response; Zethar Earthstone was nothing if not observant, and he knew that Shahar did not mean to offend.

You want something? Shahar guessed. Zethar would not have called out to him otherwise.

“In a way, perhaps.” The man was seated on the outskirts of the Allegiance, a typical location for him, presumably listening to the world around him in the way Earthstones were known to do. On a nearby perch stood his strider, and upon the handle of the yvas stood Chirca, his hawk, who chirruped softly as Zethar rose and made his way over to her.

For his own part, Shahar remained silent; Zethar’s less than helpful answer was surely not the end of what he had to say.

A few moments of waiting proved him correct; Zethar tended to his bird silently, then turned, intent written into his posture.

“You might do well to make your way to the east-side of this place,” he informed the quieter hunter. “I’ve heard tell of a man who might be seeking someone like you. A ceremony of some sort; he wants something large, and is willing to pay. Your name has been mentioned to him.”

Shahar blinked, but dipped his head and nodded; when Zethar shared information, it was foolish to ignore him. Acknowledgement, I understand.

“Then make your way,” he said with a good-natured smile. “Opportunities don’t last forever.”

Shahar acquiesced and urged Akaidras back into motion. A signal to Tuka brought the hunting she-cat back alongside them, and Shahar was thankful that her curiosity was minimal enough to keep her there. She was learning to remain calm in the presence of many people; it was a skill that made her own much more confident bringing her along on his regular excursions into the city. The stallion nickered and picked up his feet, forging their familiar path through the glittering greens of the Allegiance. Though the occasional white or yellow sash could be seen, the vast majority of the crowd was made of Emeralds; this was a place for hunters, not warriors or craftsmen.

Both horse and rider were well acquainted with the movements of the Allegiance, and it was not long at all before they found themselves on the eastern edge of the area. It was here that Shahar asked Akaidras to halt once again, casting his gaze around for what it was Shahar had informed him of; “a man seeking someone like you” was not particularly informative. Still, those that sought to hire tended to stand out; it was only a matter of picking out those that did not belong.

[Tevinte]

Both his hands travelled up Darcia's muzzle, gracing the buckskin with the most gentle of touch before abruptly grasping by the jaw bone and pulling that soft sutty nose right against his own face. And for a moment they stood there suspended in their own little world, eyeing each other fearsomely, not blinking, not even for a moment as if in a competition. And then a great rough tongue would diffuse the situation, licking right across Tevinte's face sending the man into fits of laughter. With one hand wiping at his face, with the other pushing Darcia's head to the side proclaiming "You gross thing!."

Such was the world of this horse and his man. Even crowded by others they seemed to see no one but each other, oddly juxtaposed against sashes of green and severed heads of grassland beasts. Seldom they ventured into the Allegiance but it just so seemed that this time they has business. Even is said business was not strictly theirs.

Favours. Favours were at hand indeed as Tevinte had been metaphorically dragged into the city that morning by his grandfather. And even though the flavour of the favour, a hunt, should come as nothing less than a joyous affair for Tev to whom the hunt was a second nature and the Sea of Grass was home; it was only the unfortunate benefactor of said hunt who brought rain clouds over the young Drykas' humour. The only thing he hated more than doing things for people is doing things for his grandfather. An irrational hatred - indeed it was.

Suffice to say Imrir Solaris and his grandson had a strained relationship and such was no fault of his own. He had taken the kid in at 12 after the death of his mother, nurtured him, fed him and clothed him. He had even given him his bow only to be repaid with an unforgiving storm of rebellion. And the older Tev got the worse was his attitude. Even now as the elder Drykas stood surrounded by others of the Emerald clan, conversing about something no doubt of utmost importance, his grand son loitered a good few feet away, separated by invisible thorns, leaned against his horse nonchalantly, glaring about himself whilst Darcia chewed on locks of his hair.

It was then that an unfamiliar face appeared on the horizons of his vision. Not to state that any of the Endrykas faces were terribly familiar. Perhaps the had stared at other faces too much and his eyes got bored of dirt, or perhaps it was a complete disregard for manners laid those emerald green eyes onto the stranger. From beneath his brow he glared with such a displeased grimace etched into that face that one would think he had a quarrel with the man he knew not. A man barely older than himself atop the most magnificent of black Striders.

[Colt]

Shahar was not the most outgoing of people, nor was he particularly inclined towards social prowess. Politeness and courtesy were tedious and accomplished little, and so Shahar rarely bothered with them unless absolutely necessary. With that said, however, he was wise enough to know when he was being glared at.

The man was young, surely not far out of boyhood, brown-haired and green-eyed with a roughness to him that belied an experience with the outdoors. He was entangled with a buckskin Strider––or at least, he had been before he had deigned to settle Shahar with a piercing grimace.

Instead of averting his eyes, Shahar locked gazes with the youth and bore the full brunt of the displeased stare. He didn’t glare back, however, instead tilting his head in bemused curiosity, with a hint of inquiry on his shoulders.

Yes? he asked the youth. Surely he must have been doing something wrong to earn such a look, but Shahar had no clue as to what that might be. The only logical action, therefore, was to ask the man outright. Am I doing something to offend you? There was no malice or ulterior motive coloring his signs, only genuine confusion, but alongside it was a distinct lack of discomfort or offense of his own. He did not shy away from the hard eyes of the stranger; to do so would glean him nothing.

A pity, he thought, that their sudden interaction was cut off.

“That’s the one,” someone said. “Dawnwhisper.”

At the sound of his name, Shahar turned. Two men stood nearby, one aged and weathered and far too out of place to be one of the Allegiance’s regulars. The other one, shouldering the obvious weight of a longbow and quiver, was dressed in the traditional greens of a native Emerald.

“This one’s got a job for you,” the younger Emerald. Then, to his older companion: “He can help you. The Dawnwhisper. Got a keen eye for the grasslands.”

[Tevinte]

Truly Tev did not think to be noticed. Perhaps the significant lack of a large crowd failed to obscure his gaze or perhaps so obvious as was his boredom, that an invisible aura highlighted him against the backdrop of the city. A radiating halo of boredom so bright it blinded others. As the stranger's eyes locked with him however his face would shift into a smirk and a shrug of the shoulders.

“He can help you. The Dawnwhisper. Got a keen eye for the grasslands.”

Imrir turned to his companion with the most polite of nods before addressing the man named Dawnwhisper. "Splendid. Truly splendid." he caped his hands just once and brought them to a halt in front of his more finely clothed chest. "I had commissioned a hunt and these gentlemen dropped you in by name. Seems your skills are worth admiration. What do you say son? There is of course a payment in it for you if you take on my commission."

For a moment Sharar would find himself the centre of attention for it was no longer just Tevinte's eyes that followed him.

[Colt]

Bizarrely, the moment the boy noticed Shahar staring back his glare disappeared, replaced by something resembling amusement. Shahar tilted his head. Had the exchange been entirely pointless, then?

But it was of no matter; the commissioner approached with glad greetings.

“Splendid,” he said. “Truly splendid. I had commissioned a hunt and these gentlemen dropped you in by name. Seems your skills are worth admiration. What do you say son? There is of course a payment in it for you if you take on my commission."

The hunter beyond dropped a nodded you’re welcome before turning to return to whatever it was he had been doing before. Hunters did not often lark about aimlessly here.

As for the one that remained, he was dressed with unusually fine clothes and adornments. He was of status, then, which was relatively unsurprising given his venerable age. Green gems and cloth wraps, trinkets and baubles to display value and rank. Shahar was talking to an Ankal, then, or at least someone very near in status. The quiet hunter was neither surprised nor unsurprised; it was the job that provided the major importance in conversation.

Skill, some, yes; what you seek? Large, small, or?

While his signs weren’t exactly rude, there was a distinct lack of the courtesy-dancing to draw out the conversation through various lines of well met, how are you, where are you from, and the usual trivialities that proceeded conversation. Shahar’s signs were short, blunt and chosen only when they meant something he found worthwhile.

[Tevinte]

Whilst well mannered Imrir was of the industrious sort. A vivacious old man had never too much time at his dispense and having his elder brother as a constant reminder of his quivering age was a weight on his mind. Thus with pleasure he regarded the hunter's short and down to the point decorum. It proved only an affirmation that he had chosen the right man for the job. "The bigger the better. A large game would suffice, something with a tough hide to it. Your troubles will be rewarded accordingly."

Now if there had ever been a core truth about Imrir it was that the man had a tongue of stone. He never shied away from telling others what he thought of them - a quality his son and in turn his grand son inherited a thousand fold. He too was fair. Never had he paid a penny too little for anything and if the job was done to exceed his expectation he never let that go without a reward. For in the twilight of his life he had found himself with all the money he needed and a large family he had no intention of passing it down to. In Imrir's eyes a true Drykas works for what he's worth. Nothing in life comes easy.

"One more thing." he added before his memory would fail him. "Take my grand son Tevinte with you. I trust him to be of help for the type of animal you'll be hunting."

At the mention on his name Tevinte's mind spun back into focus after the past hour of truly mind numbing boredom. He had paid attention only terribly sporadically to the conversation between his grand father and the hunter but from the look of content on the old man's face and the general tone of affairs he gathered those bits he missed pretty fast as precisely what they were; nothing he hadn't known already. Giving Darcia a pat on the crest of the neck he motioned the horse to follow, injecting himself into the conversation.

"But that's nonsense grandfather," he exclaimed with a snide, mocking grin on his face that ever so quickly turned into a grimace veiled by the shadow from beneath his thick black brows. The angles of his face only becoming more angular as he spoke. In his words he mimicked Imrir's manner only to add to add to his displeasure. "For you never trust me with anything. If you did ya'd have me take the dogs and go my self!"

Unacceptable it was, disgraceful and disgusting - the way Tevinte spoke to his grandfather. Such disrespect of an elder was beyond taboo in Drykas society, especially by the member of his own pavilion. Anyone other would no doubt have flogged the boy by now or at least give him a slap across that filthy mouth; a lesson to remember. Passers by would hide their glances at the youth, astonished by his demeanour. Imrir however outwardly cared little and though inwardly he cared a great deal he was wise enough to know there was nothing he could do for the boy now. It was only this very special kind of kinship that had him dealing with Tevinte in the best of intention.

"Indeed. Take those filthy things so that you could return to me with a half mangled carcass. Have you no brain in that head of your's Tevinte?" the old man didn't raise his voice even a note but there was something that implied frustration in the words he spoke, in the way he stood having crossed his hands at his chest, looking to the boy with an upturned nose.

Of course naturally Tevinte would have thrown out some half coherent insults. Like a faulty trigger however, his brain refused to come up with adequate words which manifested in the wordless gaping of the mouth and the narrowing of the eyes before, with obvious irritation he forfeited yet another battle of many. Strapping the bow across his chest he would heave himself onto Darcia's back, placing his hands at the beast's shoulders grunting. "Whatever. Lets get this shit over and done with."

[Colt]

"The bigger the better. A large game would suffice, something with a tough hide to it. Your troubles will be rewarded accordingly."

Large game. Tough hide. The large deer weren’t this far north in the Sea of Grass, and the only deer he would be likely to spot at this point in the Run was pronghorn, which weren’t exactly ‘large.’ Bison, perhaps; they were large in the traditional sense of the word, and while their hides weren’t ‘tough’ they were certainly thick enough to make up for it. The other option was olidosapux, but that was almost certainly too large for one person to process and consume on their own, not to mention the fact that one person could not hunt them. No deer to hunt, and olidosapux was simply not feasable.

Bison it was, then.

"One more thing," the man added, halting Shahar’s halfway-formed affirmative. "Take my grandson Tevinte with you. I trust him to be of help for the type of animal you'll be hunting."

Shahar blinked. That was an entirely new factor to consider.

And he, it seemed, was not the only one who thought so.

"But that's nonsense, grandfather," said the youth with the pointless glare. "For you never trust me with anything. If you did ya'd have me take the dogs and go my self!"

A few shocked gazes were cast over as the youth and commissioner locked into what looked to become an argument. Shahar said nothing; his body was clear of signs save for awareness of the discussion going on before him. If he was to take the lad out to help––for even a young set of hands would be immensely helpful––it would only come with the grandfather’s victory. And if the youth managed to convince him otherwise, well, it was no skin off Shahar’s back.

"Indeed,” the grandfather countered. “Take those filthy things so that you could return to me with a half mangled carcass. Have you no brain in that head of your's Tevinte?"

There was a tense silence as the two faced off. Even Tuka, who had little interest in the conversations of Drykas, perked her ears curiously, while Akaidras eyed the exchange with little more than passing interest.

Finally, after a bout of posing, the youth––Tavinte––backed down.

"Whatever.” he growled, sliding his shortbow over his shoulders. “Let’s get this shit over and done with."

Tevinte vaulted onto the buckskin strider, and Shahar looked to the grandfather.

Other business? he asked.

If the answer was no, then Shahar would give a short, shrill whistle to Tuka, lean into the yvas and bring Akaidras around to move back into the crowd. A single glance was spared to Tavinte to see if he would follow, but no gestures or words would be offered if he didn’t; Shahar had no time to direct hunters that refused to direct themselves.

He did not angle outward quite yet. Instead, he urged the black bay stallion towards a small tangle of men and women lingering just outside a small tent. A bison would need more than arrows and spears.

Hail was on Shahar’s hands as he brought Akaidras to a halt, and it was met by flickers of greeting from a few of the hunters. In the tent beyond lay a mess of ropes and tools, meant to repair and replace items lost on hunts.

“Something lost to you, friend?” said one of the women.

Requirement, Shahar replied. Future hunt immediate, large prey. Move along the ground for return, attached to horse.

“Body sled?”

Yes.

She turned and stuck her head into the tent. “I don’t think… no, wait. I… yes, we’ve got one left.” She disappeared briefly behind the cloth, and soon returned toting a travois-like contraption with tarps, support beams and ropes meant to be fitted around a horse’s withers.

“Might hurt your pocket, friend. Forty-five gold?”

I have it. Shahar reached into the yvas bags for the money and exchanged it for the sled.

“You looking for something big, then?”

“Bison.” It was the first word he’d spoken aloud all morning. You know of?

“Heard Starsparks felled one not a day or so ago. Out east, near the Bluevein. Might’a moved, but you know them; they don’t go fast. Should be able to catch up if you use the Stride.”

Understood gratitude. Shahar turned away from them with intent to move on his shoulders, now directed specifically towards Tevinte. Tuka stirred from where she had lay to rest, well aware of what that sign meant.

We go east.

[Tribal]

G R A D E S

Shahar Dawnwhisper

Experience

• Socialisation: 2
• Riding, Horse: 2
• Investigation: 1
• Rhetoric: 1
• Logic: 1
• Planning: 1

Lore

• Zether: Putting Shahar's name out to the wider community
• Tevinte: Young and reckless
• Shahar: A keen eye for the grasslands
• Drykas: Ankals and their finery
• Olidosapux: Too large for one man to hunt alone
• Tevinte: Not trusted by his father

Notes

I like how Shahar thinks ahead, though his indifference to social situations makes for an interesting leader; might give him trouble in future? Sorry to see this was never finished, Tevinte if you return just send me a PM and I will award grades.