Open Nomads

[Konrad Venger]

33rd Day of Winter, 516AV - Sea of Grass, Three Days West of Lake Lari

"Dunno how y'manage it."

"We were born in saddle, Hans. What you expect?"

"Really?"

"Is figure of speaking, Good God, man..."

Konrad decided to omit the fact that he was referring to Sedon's girth, not his race, when it came to riding so smoothly. For half the day they'd been on the move, them and the whole mass and mess of Endrykas, crawling across the Sea of Grass like an ant colony over a patch of scrub. Konrad's back was sore and his neck ached, he rubbed at it constantly and yet whenever he worked yet another crick out of it-

There was Sedon, balanced nicely, impossibly, like a playing ball perched precariously and yet perfectly on the saddle of his horse. The Drykas noticed him out the corner of his eye and said lowly:

"Keep you head up. Better for back. Neck."

Konrad did as he was told, and under him, Dapple plodded on without complaint. He was growing to appreciate the stoic animal, even if he didn't quite enjoy the fact that he was a foot or so below everyone else in the city, aside from wagons and children on their first mounts.

Ponies. That's what the children get. That's what they gave you.

No, that's what I could afford. Big difference.

He followed the Drykas' advice and set his eyes on the morass of moving flesh around him. Not just that, though; in fact, the animals and men moving wasn't what impressed him. After all, that's what living things did. No, it was the fact that so many hundreds of tents and pavilions, not to mention all the tools for carpentry, woodworking, smithing, husbandry, medicine, weapon-making, literature, fabric production... all of it, on wagons or on the back of donkeys and oxen.

The Moving City. That's what they called Endrykas, back in Sunberth. He'd always thought it was a myth, but now... he could see the reality. See and understand the effort it took to make a myth work.

He looked ahead, and he looked behind, and both times, he could not see the end of it all. Which was funny, he thought, since he'd heard there weren't even a thousand people in the city. Over the recent years they'd taken horrific losses. Thousands of dead, hundreds lost or enslaved or, in some cases, just cutting and running... but there they were, still standing, still riding, still moving.

"Gotta respec' that, I guess."

"Hmm?"

Konrad signed the word for "nothing" at Sedon's question, focusing on keeping his head up... and yeah, his thighs tight around the flanks of Dapple. He'd fallen off enough to know that without a saddle, yvas or stirrups, it was balance and position that kept him on the damned thing. So he squeezed a little tighter, and winced as a hitch in the pony's step-

-sent a jolt through his crotch.

Petch me, need a sodding saddle. Hells, a blanket would do-

A shout rose up from the steppe. By the time his head swiveled around, it was joined, grew, swelled and traveled fast as wind and swooping hawk. Konrad frowned and managed to pinpoint it to just behind them, some pavilion he didn't know, figures pointing and horsemen already peeling off, focused on-

-he turned again, and saw-

"Meat."

Well, cows and bulls, but that was just the disguise. Shambling, hairy things with horns and hooves, that's what they actually were. Konrad stared dumbly for a few moments, the sight of free ranging cattle just... well, ranging something that he had to adjust to. Not that season. Not with the Sea of Grass scoured of life and greenery, and skeletons littering it from herds starved to death.

"Must be better eatin' near the lakes and rivers," Sedon said next to him, as if reading his mind if not understanding that his Pavi wasn't quite up to scratch. "They're out to get some cuts."

Konrad all bu growled in frustration. Meat, shanks and steaks and sides of beef, not just the scrapings a man could get from rabbit and coyote and the occasional deer. Now a stream of horsemen were spurring their mounts into gallop, Striders and stallions pounding out a rhythm across the steppe that shook up Dapple's legs and into his own body. The pony whinnied in confusion and Konrad patted his neck, eyes fixed on the shaggy things trying to escape.

All that food, and I'm stuck on this stupid thing-

"Come!"

His head snapped around, to see Sedon-

-moving past him in a blur, spurring on his horse, bulk and belly forgotten as he went after the food, like any good cook. Konrad stared, mouth slack... and then kicked his heels into the poiny's side.

"Well, he did tell me t'go wiv' 'im..."

[Konrad Venger]

"Petch-Shyke-Cunny-Bastard-Sodding-!"

it took about a chime for Konrad to realize that was a bad idea. Even if he wasn't a novice horseman, he was also trying to steer a mount without stirrups, or even a saddle... not to mention reins.

"Use you thighs!" A voice roared next to him, half-lost in the thunder of hooves and the jolts of pain. "Squeeze! Hold tight to mane!"

Konrad ground his teeth and squeezed tighter. Gods, at least that would stop him bouncing so hard and pounding his balls into petching jelly against the tough back of the pony. Around him there was nothing but furious movement and horse flesh streaking across the grass, but Konrad knew, somewhere, over the din, there was laughter, too.

You petching idiot.

Still, he was out there now, so he was going to be damn well useful, at least. He could see the meager herd of cattle breaking apart, heifers and calves still waddling away and a couple of hoary old bulls turning to face the horsemen fast overtaking them. Starved skinny and half-mad from thirst, they still bellowed their defiance at the humans and their turncoat mounts, lowering their horns-

Arrows whistled through the air. In a blink there were shafts sticking out of the animals flanks, bellows of agony that drowned out everything for a moment. Konrad saw Drykas circling the bulls, steering with their feet as they nocked fresh arrows, cool and precise as if they were standing on solid ground.

Probably not. They're probably better shots from horseback.

On the other hand, he didn't dare even touch his bow, on the back of a pony that was being rapidly outpaced by the horsemen but damnit, was not about to give up. Its sturdy legs moved faster, even if they covered less ground per stride. As the herd disintegrated, they scattered, horsemen giving chase, and Sedon-

Konrad spied him peeling off and going after a calf tom the left. The fat cook was still doing his unfeasible balancing act, making it more improbably by yanking a shortspear from his saddle and flipping it over in his grip, bearing down fast on the terrified, fleeing creature.

"Hans?! Need you-"

"I hear!"

Konrad gave his pony a kick and barked out the Pavi, a phrase he knew that simultaneously acknowledged a request and an order. He got on Sedon's tail and then the man moved, and... damnit, how did...

"Shyyyyke..."

Konrad knew how it had to work. The mane wouldn't change the beast's direction. But his weight, on its back, he'd seen that do it before. So, against every instinct in his body, he leaned over to the left, the direction Sedon and his prey had swayed to... and the pony started to turn, feeling the pull of the rider mounting it, compensating to keep it on its back.

The Sunberth man almost barked with amazement. Gods. They'd make a rider out of him yet. Then he gripped the mane tight with one hand, and ripped his kopis free with the other-

-just as a pitiful cry of pain ripped through the air, and Sedon's spear found its mark.

[Konrad Venger]

It had taken a few years and series of missteps, but Sedon had been forced to admit, his archery wasn't the best on the back of a galloping horse. He suspected it was due to his weight, his balance thrown off when he attempted to line up the kind of precise shots a man needed to when using a bow on the back of a speeding stallion... but he wasn't about to lose the weight.

Who would trust a skinny cook, after all? But put a lance in his hand, or a spear, get him close enough-

And he was still a Drykas, sure as the bell he was born.

The calf was a scared, sickly thing. Weaned on weak milk and barely capable of running, but Sedon forced himself to batten down the compassion that rose in him. He prayed Caiyha forgive him and Semele bless him; his people needed to eat, and this Syna-soaked steppe was running low on everything that sustained life.

The scarred wahlak started to close in when he yanked the spear out of the calf's side, ripping out flesh and hide as he did. It toppled in mid-run, one leg useless, and Sedon blinked as the mysterious man they'd found half-dead (no, more than half) in the grasses south of Kenash seemed to have captured lightning.

No. He held a sword, and as he passed the calf-

Stick to what you know. That had been a guiding mantra of Konrad's. He came from a place where playing Mister Clever Bollocks could get you gutted and stripped in a flat chime. Best to play it safe, overuse caution and always fall back on what you knew you were good with. What could get results.

So he didn't brandish his shortbow. Him and his pony came trundling in at a shuddering pace and just as the paralyzed, crying calf passed by his side-

-the sword came down-

-in front of the bony ridges of its shoulders-

-on the back of its neck, and crashed through muscle and crunched bone and-

"Shyke!"

Physics was not his friend. The kopis - cleaned and sharpened every day, the way any sellsword's weapon would be - did its job too damn well. It cleaved through the calf with a blade designed for such crude, savage hacking, and when it got into the spine it stuck hard-

-but Dapple and him were still moving fast, and with a shuddering yank-

-the kopis was pulled from his hand, and he was left waving at the horizon, other hand desperately holding onto the pony's mane.

"Crazy bastard..."

Sedon shook his head as the wahlak cursed like a madman, wriggling and heel-kicking and trying to turn the damn stubborn pony around. A few yards away, the calf was bubbling blood out of its nose. More of it seeped from its mouth. Its legs twitched but there was no control, no feeling, no hope. Lost or not, the sword had done exactly the wahlak had intended.

"No more pain for you, little one," Sedon whispered, looking the little beast in the eye as he raised his spear one last time. "On to the next place. On to Mother Caiyha. I thank you for what you will give the Lords of The Yvas."

Konrad missed the killing blow. He was too focused on staying on the pony and trying to, well, turn it around. Again he used his body weight, tipping to the left and coming around in a lazy half-circle, until he was trotting back the way they'd came. But he saw Sedon yank his spear free from the calf's head, clotted with gore and grey matter. He sidled up next to the man, riding far higher than he on a horse that made his own look like a child's, and reached down...

"Come... sodding... on-!"

On the third try, his kopis was finally his own again. He wiped it clean on Dapple's flanks, front and back, and sheathed it again. Around them, a similar scene had been played out, a half-dozen times over. The Drykas had set upon the skeletal family - Konrad could not even call it a "herd" - like wolves, surrounding, picking away, filling hides with arrows and spear points until they dropped. Now ropes were flying from horsemen whooping in victory and-

He grunted as one was slapped into his own lap. He looked down, the squinted up at Sedon, alreayd tying a noose into his own.

"Come," the Drykas said, fastening the other end to his yvas. "Need to get meat back."

[Konrad Venger]

"Mind the legs!"

"Ah, bollocks!"

Konrad's head snapped around just as the wet, strained tearing sound greeted his ears. One of the calf's legs finally gave up the ghost after being dragged over a league or two of rough ground and came away like a drumstick. Blood slicked across the steppe as Konrad pulled back on Dapple's mane, leaning his weight back to ram home the point.

"Gods above," Sedon said with a shake of his head, squeezing the bridge of his nose as a cursing Konrad dismounted. "Should have seen that coming."

He had to admit, though, the walahk didn't grouse or complain about what he had to do. Just that it had happened in the first place. He walked over to the stray leg and tossed it up casually to Sedon, who secured it on his yvas with another length of rope.

"Seems t'be a habit a' mine. Sodding legs all over the shop."

"What you... oh. Mean coyote?"

"Yes!" Konrad swung himself back onto Dapple's back with a huff. One big benefit to owning a pony, being as tall as he was: he didn't have to strain much to mount it. "The sodding coyote!"

Sedon just chuckled, and Konrad let him. Which was surprising all by itself. It was disrespect, after all, even if it was a harmless, almost friendly thing. A year ago, back in Sunberth, some mouthy bastard working with him had mocked like that, he'd have been collecting his fingers in a beer mug. But now? Konrad just knocked back some water from a skin and kicked his heels into Dapple's sides.

Cow hide recommenced scratching and scraping in his wake, and soon they'd caught up to the city.

It was still strange thinking of it like that, but all around him, in front of him, and behind him, that was the truth. A whole city, just up and moving to a new location. The tiny herd had been quickly butchered, Drykas leaping off their mounts to quarter up what was too big to drag back. Now Konrad could see them, like tiny fish cruising up next to some mammoth sea monster, depositing their kills on wagons that didn't even slow down.

"Hans? Here!"

Speaking of which...

He turned and found half-a-dozen hands waving at him, beckoning him over to the covered wagon that now had one side pulled up. Meat of all sizes was packed inside, stinking of salt and other preservatives, piled high for the trip to come. Konrad shifting his weight and brought the pony sidling up to the side of it, wonder how he'd have to-

Before he'd even asked, two of the Pridesun members lunged down over the wood with butchers' hooks, sinking deep into the calf. With a "one-two-three!" they heaved it up off the ground and into the wagon, the third one cutting the rope before it even went taut.

No stopping. No slowing. Just smooth efficiency.

"Bugger me. No sodding around, here."

"Eh?"

Sedon was by his side again, having tossed the leg in with the rest. They resumed their pace just as before, as if the last bell hadn't even occurred, save for the Drykas now cleaning his spear... without even bothering to hold the reins of his horse. Or needing to, and that was the point.

"Nothin'. Good bit a' meat fer tonight, aye?"

"Yes, yes," Sedon said, but judiciously, as if appraising a gem and finding some minor but unavoidable flaw. "Would be better to keep. Add to herd. Then have milk, cheese, maybe breed. But too small. Too sick. Better to just-"

"Take what's there?"

Sedon sighed and slid his spear back into the sheath he had rigged up to the side of his horse. He looked out into the Sea of Grass, and Konrad soon saw what had caught his attention.

Bodies. So withered and dried by Syna that they looked liked carved rocks. Not a speck or water left in them. No riders peeled away, that time. No frantic rush to stake claims and carve up the bounty. Konrad could hear the buzzing flies from where he rode, meat already festering, rotting, feeding the only creatures that prospered out there.

"Damn gods." Sedon's voice was low. Angry. Bitter. Oddly enough, for a pavilion so steeped in controversy regarding it's messianic ankal, Konrad hadn't talked much with the old cook about his beliefs. Now he saw a glimpse into them, as the man shook his head sadly. "They do this. They allow this. They do not care."

Konrad wasn't one for preaching, and he had about as much use for prayers as a blind man did for a looking glass. But seeing the carcasses, just the latest of a long line, and looking back up to another long line, this time of horses and donkeys and oxen and wagons and people... he could understand.

There, at least, they agreed.

"No," he said, keeping his back straight, just like he'd been told. Riding with the Moving City, a great and ravaged beast, dragging itself to water. "They don't."

[Rufio]

C A T 'S G O T Y A G R A D E


xp

Socialization +2
Riding: Horse +3
Kopis +1
Hunting +1
Philosophy +1


lores

Riding: Keep head up & back straight
Endrykas: The nomadic city
Riding: Balance & position matter in bareback riding
Riding: Leaning & using thigh pressure to direct a horse
Hunting: Working as a team to bring down zibri from horseback
Sedon: Resents the Gods' indifference to suffering


rewards

+ 20lb Zibri calf leg


notes
Don't forget to deduct living expenses for Winter 516AV!

If you feel I missed anything shoot me a PM.
Don't forget to edit your grade request here -