One of the lost. [Open]

[Matthial]

1st of Summer, 511 AV The three men fled south, and the shadow followed. Slowly the sky darkened, the black of night settled over the plains. In the black three men huddled around a small campfire. "What do we do?" The speaker was smaller then his companions, and huddled into the fire for warmth. Despite it being early Summer, the plains held a brutal wind this evening, cutting down to the very bone. "We will continue to the south. We are already nearing the infamous sea of grass. We skirt it, then we head north. With any luck we can avoid the horsemen, while losing our... pursuer." The biggest of the group, the man finished his statement and withdrew an apple from beneath his cloak. He took a large bite, and let the silence grow as the three regarded their strange fate. It should have been a simple job. The boss had put out some information regarding an easy caravan. Normally they didn't stoop to such levels as banditry, but this wagon-train should have been carrying a rather large deposit of money intended for a bank somewhere to the east. Gregory and his men had awaited the target in the Bronze woods near Syliras. Despite regular Knight patrols, they kept to the edges, and waited. The first volley of arrows took out the guards. The second the horses. The six bandits had descended upon their prey in an instant, hoping to catch the bank employees unawares. Then... he arrived. Gregory still wasn't entirely sure if the man had been with the convoy, or had simply materialized from somewhere in the forest. He looked like a man who had crawled out from some abyss. The bandit could still see the man in his minds eye. A tattered cloak had covered the chainmail, and a broken shield adorned the back. The man walked with a tired gait, leaning on an old walking stick. The long hair fell about the dirty, unshaven face. Jimmy had gotten one word out. "Hey wh-" The youngest of the group was just quick enough to dodge the sword as it leapt from the attacker's sheath. He didn't dodge the next stroke. It was an amazing thing, Gregory recalled. The swordsman moved as if he was old, or sickly. While he wore the attire of a knight, the figure had simply flung his sword about, like a child almost. Yet, he was strong for one of his small stature. His blows quickly wore down the first man, and then he engaged the second. It was only when he faced three at once, did the cracked shield find its way onto his arm. With one of their brothers down, the other clansmen had looked to Gregory. The man distinctly remembered cursing because he couldn't find a single coin amidst the caravan. He could remember drawing out his blackjack and waiting for just the right moment to attack the swordsman. He would have finished the man off, if not for two approaching Sylirian Knights. The gods had surely cursed the small crew. Rubbing his chin, Gregory could only thing that statement held doubly true. For some reason that bastard swordsman was following the group. Even after they had returned to Ravok empty-handed, even after they had disbanded and gone their seperate ways. Maybe he had been following Gregory since before the failed attack? A sigh, and the man prepared his men to move. He would have liked to take the bugger alive, but some mysteries where best left unsolved. The grass would take the stupid blighter, and leave him all the better off. A grim smile. Daylight looked down upon Matthial as he continued to walk. The plains had started some miles back. The wanderer clutched his cloack as he leaned down and examined several blackened branches gathered in a semi-circle. There was no mistaking it, his prey had camped here the night before. He was getting closer. Leaning on his branch, the young man brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes and looked to the south. He was aware that he was getting close to Drykas territory. He knew little of the horseclans, and was unsure if he the roving city was anywhere nearby. A small sigh. Could that be the bandits destination? He doubted they would try to take refuge amongst the famed warriors. Perhaps they where trying to lose him? A possibility. He wasn't much of a tracker, so he couldn't tell if they had turned around or not. Still, he couldn't let them get away. They might have answers. Bemoaning his dwindling rations, the traveler continued south.

[Ronan]

Unbeknownst to the tracker, Ronan was doing some tracking of his own. He had always felt at home in the wilds, and as he lay on his front upon the crest of a hill, he pondered on the night he had spent watching and waiting. Having left his horse in the camp, Ronan had followed the strange trails that had been left behind.

A patch of trampled grass here. Disturbed soil there. Ronan had gathered the gist of the general path quickly. He didn't think this was an animal - this was definitely a person, someone who had been making a concerted effort to conceal themselves.

As the morning sun began to rise on the horizon, he found himself thumbing the dagger he took wherever he went. Intricate vine patterns wound their way around the hilt, but it was not the appearance that caught him. It was the memory of his fallen sibling.

Look at me Darus... Tracking some outsider. To think I could even feel an ounce of desire to protect Endrykas. You were always the static one brother. I keep moving. I never rest. If I stop... then I'll have a chance to remember.

He climbed up slowly, realising whoever had been moving about close to the camp had probably long gone. His stomach growled and so he made haste back to Endrykas - stubbornly avoiding the fact his feelings for the nomadic city were changing...

[Matthial]

Oh yeah. He was lost. Giving the sun a rueful smile, Matthial wiped at his forehead. The young man had never in his wildest dreams imagined he would be chasing bandits over open country. Suffice to say, 'tracking' hadn't been on his list of learning priorities. Swing a sword? Sure. Ride a horse? You betcha! Farm? Can do. Track dangerous men over open terrain under a beating sun ...s'what? The orb in question was particularly unbearable on this hot summer day. The open plains offered little cover, and the tall grasses made navigation quite difficult. Matthial knew he was heading south, but beyond this, he wasn't entirely sure. Pausing, the man withdrew a canteen from under his cloak and unscrewed the top. Giving a baleful glance around him, the wanderer took a long pull. Taking stock of his situation, the man turned and surveyed each direction based on the suns position. North, South, East, West, all held the exact same view. Tall grass under a blue sky. It suddenly occured to him, why the region was called 'The Sea of Grass' Giving a sort of pout, the traveller started to head south again, when he heard a sort of scratching sound. Blinking, the man saw a rather thick brush grouping to his left. Placing on hand on his sword hilt, Matthial moved for a closer look. In a matter of a second, he found himself face to face with... something. It happened so fast that Matthial's brain tried to register what had just stuck its head out from the brush. It was... some sort of big.. bird thing? The head was very bird-like, but the beak wasn't like anything he'd ever seen. It was a sort of translucent hook shaped protrusion. The translucence was the most striking feature, and Matthial vaguely remembered hearing about something... glass like. Oh no. In the same second Matthial realized that he was looking at a Glassbeak, the creature in question shrieked and struck. Managing to throw a chain-mailed arm up, Matthial just managed to not lose an eye. His walking stick hit the ground as the young man reeled back and savagely tore the sword from its sheath in a desperate swing... ...at mid-air. The Glassbeak was gone, but he could hear loud rustlings all around him. Cursing every god he could think of Matthial bolted into the grass to his left. Behind him, he swore he could hear something following. As he ran, it was all he could do to keep his balance with the heavy shield on his back, and his sword flailing about behind him. He spotted the log just in time to leap over it, and continue his sprint in to the taller grass. It was up to his chest now. Straining to look back, the man couldn't see anything following him but decided to keep running anyway. He was just considering stopping to put the sword away when the ground gave way beneath him and he slammed into something. Gasping for air, Matthial blindly groped for his sword as he looked about. Apparently the grass had hidden a small ravine. Luckily, this rock had caught his fall... Something warm and sticky covered his forehead, and in the next second, the wanderer found himself looking at a blue sky, with a strange red tint in his left eye. Matthial knew no more as the blackness consumed him.

[Ronan]

It was just getting to that cool part of the day when Ronan saw him. The sun was dipping, and a gentle breeze danced across the sea of grass. Out once again, scavenging and searching, that was when he found the figure.

If he hadn't of looked properly, he would have missed him. But there were compressions in the grass, and a shape that disturbed the natural order of things. Ronan's hand went to his dagger, and he unsheathed it slowly. Had he found the person who had been so stealthily skulking around near Endrykas?

A flock of birds suddenly rushed past, and Ronan gave a start. Fool! Don't be so jumpy in future! He could almost hear his brother chastising him now.

His breath and heart quickened as he neared the figure, but as quickly as his fear had risen, it fell again when he saw the unconscious man. He was a striking figure, lying there so silently in the grass. He had some notable scars on his face, and thick dark hair pasted across his sweating face. Ronan recoiled when he realised the source of the hair sticking to this man's forehead. Clotting blood. He was injured.

Ronan delved into his pouch, pulling out herbs. He had a rudimentary understanding of medicine at best, but he quickly began to tear and grind them between his fingers, brushing the man's hair away so he could apply them to the wound.

He worked diligently for a long while. Eventually the sun vanished below its nadir, and cooler breezes began to take the grasses. Ronan wiped the sweat from his forehead. Suddenly, a small whimper came from the figure. There was a fluttering of eyelids. And then he was awake...

[Matthial]

Immediately Matthial turned his head and started to cough. Everything was fuzzy as he tried to get a handle on his bearings. Still coughing the man scooted back and realized someone else was here. A gloved hand frantically swept the sand and dirt around him. Putting his mouth into the other arm, he continued to hack and cough as he scooted away from the other man. A single finger brushed something hard, and then his hand was resting on his longsword. Peering at the stranger, he immediately noticed the bright green eyes. Looking over his arm, he noticed the short hair as well. The other man didn't look like a bandit, and by the way he was moving his hands... ...as the adrenaline wore off, Matthial hissed as the pain came rushing back. Growling at nobody in particular he rose to his feet and surveyed the newcomer. "You... " He dabbed a gloved hand at his now sore temple. He must have fallen and hit his head on something. He vaguely remembered running from glass beaks. Drawing his cloak about him, the wanderer extended a gloved hand. "Matthial. Thanks for the rescue. How did you find me?" A good question out here in the middle of nowhere. Sigmund would have liked to have been more pleasant, but he still wasn't sure of this man's intent. Those eyes where pretty distinctive, he would have remembered them if the man had been with the bandits.

[Ronan]

"Matthial. Thanks for the rescue. How did you find me?"

Ronan surveyed the man awkwardly, but his rigid posture softened as he began to see the battle of wills taking place. This Matthial seemed as weary of Ronan, as he was the other way. Two wanderers, locking eyes and minds.

"I... I track things. I watch, wait, listen. It was the grass." He noticed a rising eyebrow from Matthial's expression. "I spent a lot of time out here in the wilderness."

But I wasn't always alone... Back then I had Darus by my side. He found his fingers reaching for the dagger, thumb pressed against the cool, metal blade. I owe my skills to you, brother.

"I'm Ronan," he finally said, and it seemed Matthial softened somewhat too. So this was the man he had tracked? The man skulking near Endrykas? He didn't seem like a villain, or even a rogue. This man was lost - that fact was as clear to Ronan as a summer sky.

[Matthial]

For a long moment there was silence as Matthial's brows furrowed in confusion. He knew absolutely nothing of the inhabitants of the famed Sea of Grass, so he would just have to take Ronan's word for it. Something he didn't like. Raising the hilt of his sword to the sky, the young man unceremoniously slid it back into its sheath at his side, and re-adjusted his cloak. As he did so, the man looked around. It was beginning to get late, he must have been out for at least an hour. The sky was starting to get overcast, and it looked as if the sun was about to finish her rounds for the day. Turning, the wanderer tried his best to look about and see something... anything. "Well. You know these parts. I was chasing someone. I do believe they lost me. Probably just skirted the grasses and watched as I blundered about like a fool." The dark expression was replaced with a sly smile as he touched at his forehead. "Met some of the ...local wildlife. I'm beginning to think this place has a different food-chain then back in Syliras." He emphasized the last with a big grin at his savior. "Say, you mind leading me to that famous horse-warrior city? Endryal.. or.. uh.. Endrykin? I'm willing to pay." In his 24 years of existence, the young man had found that NOTHING greased along a friendship like a bit of coin.

[Ronan]

A different food chain? Matthial didn't know the half of it... These plains were a place of survival of the fittest. Everything was adapted to fight - and win.

"Welcome to the Sea of Grass," Ronan said with a small laugh. Now this was where he felt comfortable. He even warranted himself just a little bravado when discussing the Cyphrus Wilds. This was his heartland.

He pondered on the man's request - odd, he thought. The offering of coin so freely... as if material things were all Ronan desired.

"I don't need any coin, but I'm heading back to Endrykas regardless. You're free to tag along."

He paused, waiting to see Matthial's reaction. He felt a little bit of ease around this stranger.

"Maybe I can give you some pointers on the local fauna...?"

[Matthial]

Matthial was just opening his mouth, when he gave a small pause and just sort of blinked at Ronan, giving the effect that he was almost batting his eyelashes. Free? Surely this man was delirious? Giving an awkward cough Matthial gave a warm smile as he adjusted the straps to his travel pack under his cloak, and tightened his shield strap. He couldn't see any nearby branches, so he would have to make do. Wherever Ronan went, the wandering knight would do his best to follow. "Oi! Lead the way then grassman! Eternally grateful, first you save my life, and then you offer to bring me to your place of women and alcohol. Gods bless you." Matthial may have been laying it on a bit thick, but he meant the last part sincerely, even if he didn't follow any of them. At the other man's question he did that strange blinking thing again. "Er... fauna?" He emphasized the last by looking about. He saw a lot of ..grass... and not much else.

[Ronan]

Ronan began to walk back towards Endrykas with his new companion. Waiving a fee seemed to have stunned Matthial. Ronan guessed that money was important wherever he came from. In the Grasses, survival was paramount. Family and survival. The word family scraped at his mind. His instinct was to reach for the dagger. He stifled the thought.

"The Fauna... well. To outsiders, the Sea of Grass looks harmless, but you've already experienced the Glassbeaks. They're nothing - midges, flies. I hope that gives you an idea. This isn't always such a safe place to be."

Ronan realised the words he had just spoken had probably scared Matthial. Even though he sometimes felt like an outsider, he had forgotten what it was like to be an outsider.

"The Drykas... we have a webbing that protects Endrykas from danger. There's no need to worry, since we're close to the moving city."