Wanderer's Respite.[Sama'el]

[Matthial]

5th of Summer 511 AV Sound surrounded the young man. He could close his eyes and form a scene around him. Doing just this, the man started to turn in a semi-circle, his face raised to the sky, he let the music of every-day life consume him. A child's cries of glee as he ran from a squealing girl. A merchant's grunt as he paused in the middle of haggling with a woman over the price of... a horse. The wind rustling the sides of a massive tent. The dull thud of a faraway arrow finding its mark in a training dummy. A woman arguing with her man, letting the whole world know how dissatisfied she was with him as a man. If he was a man at all. A drunk brazenly telling anyone who would listen how he had single-handedly taken down three glassbeaks. If you listened even closer, a picture would form. A picture of a blue sky, a stiffling heat, and an active market place. The city of the famed Drykas was busy as the trade season between Endrykas and Syliras reached its peak. Foreigners where certainly not anything out of the ordinary as the Drykas went about their business. Yet, one traveller wasn't like the rest. Unlike the myriad of people around him, he.. had no business. Rescued by a Drykas hunter, Matthial found himself in the absolute last place he expected to be. Among the noble horseclans of the plains. He knew nothing of them or their culture. He wasn't sure what to do. Catch a caravan heading back? Try to glean some information on the inverted claw? Matthial brought a gloved hand to his cloak latch, and moved to a nearby bench. First business was to get his cloak off. It was unbearably hot. Taking off the cloak, the pack, and his shield, he started to re-adjust everything while sitting on the bench. He made for a striking figure. A young man dressed in chainmail with a white sur-coat, with a longsword at his side, and a shield strapped to his pack. The most striking feature was the face. Long black hair framed the sides like a veil, and a long scar covered the bridge of the nose. The temple was bloodied, and was starting to clot. The expression was dark, putting a tint of somberness to an otherwise happy day in the market. Reaching into his pack, Matthial withdrew an ornate flask, and unscrewed the top. Taking a long pull the man leaned back into the heavy material of the tent behind him, and let his mind wander.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el thought that things were going rather well. The Spring had not gone very well for him in the family arena, with Dymphna marrying another man before he himself could get his act together and propose properly, and now Eldon had left Endrykas, leaving his pavilion in disarray, but Dymphna's departure had sent him to Riverfall, where he had made connections with horse breeders, falconers, and important Akalaks, and possibly his future brother-in-law. Summer had come and he had met Riki's sister, Athe, and perhaps it was premature, but he felt a bit twitterpated whenever he thought about her. His stock in the Watch was growing, his abilities as a rider, a warrior, and a keeper of the sacred mysteries, all on the rise. Perhaps it was good that Dymphna had married another, forcing him to focus on laying the groundwork for his future pavilion and opening the door for new women in his life and heart. So too with Eldon's departure, his help would be required to keep the Sunkiss pavilion alive. And his own camp was already grown with a friend, Denen, and a servant, Jyn, and Jyn's little daughter. Life was good, he thought, as he rode Dohaina toward the War Pavilion to pass some leisure time among his cohort. It was then he noticed a battered and bleeding man, most likely of Syliran extraction. Frowning, he nudged Dohaina toward him, then put the pieces together. The Web Mages kept watch over the plains, and Sama'el was hearing reports from others. There had been a man rescued recently. This must be him, though it was strange he hadn't been tended better. "Ho, stranger," he called in Common. "Do you need a healer?"

[Matthial]

Matthial was just working his way through the putrid liquid that had found refuge in his flask when someone approached on horseback. Sighing at nobody in particular, Matthial threw himself to his feet. Brushing dust off his surcoat, the man rose to his full 5'6, brushed the mot of black hair away from his face, and then looked the rider square in the eye. The figure in front of him was a rather lanky fellow. Looking down from his horse, he had a curious, yet faraway look about him. Matthial took another swig from the flask before letting it rest at his side as he dabbed at his 'war-wound'. When he was done sizing Sama'el up, he spoke. "Aww.. I kinda like it. Lets the ladies know that I ain't just a pretty face." A big grin and he gives a chuckle. He knows he looks like a cat that just got dragged to the bottom of a river. Unshaven, scarred, and wind-worn, he's about as rugged as they come. "A hunter helped me out, patched me up' an led me to this fine city." He emphasizes the last by gesturing with his free arm at the surrounding scene. Then he turns and puts the flask back in his pack. Bending over the pack he throws the stranger a look as a thought occurs to him. "You some sort of guard?" Nobody else would go around bothering strangers. Tightening the strap around the shield, the man reaches into an outer pocket and withdraws a bloody bandage. As he does so, a patch of cloth falls out. If Sama'el is quick, he might even spot the design sewed into it. An upside-down silver claw with three dots underneath. "Well, if you know where I can find some of these..." He lets it trail off as he quickly grabs the cloth, and bandages and unceremoniously stuffs them back into the pack.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam found himself smiling at the man's bravado, or perhaps his humor came from the head trauma. He was no expert on such things, and had said and done rather silly things himself so he was no one to judge either. Considering his plans, he thought it best to help this man out. He seemed like a Syliran sort, and that was probable given their current proximity to Syliras. The city had been good to him when he was there the year before, so he thought it would be good to be hospitable. "Well, scars are supposed to be attractive, but bloody wounds... not so much. Or so I've been told." He laughed, and nodded. He actually knew a bit about the man's story. "I'm with the Watch," he affirmed. "We guard Endrykas and the prairies. But you're not under suspicion or anything. If you like, you can come back to my camp. My friend Denen pitched his tent there and he's a healer. He'll have bandages and can see to making that bloody wound into a handsome scar. You can camp with us for a while, until you get back on your feet, or you get a better offer."

[Matthial]

Matthial blinked, and rubbed at his stubble for a moment before resuming his stare at the other man. Who offered their home to a complete stranger? It didn't make much sense to him. Either it was a cultural thing, or this... Watchman was a better sort. Something he was still struggling to understand. It wasn't the offer that helped make the decision, it was the motives behind it. He needed to learn more about them. Brushing a stray strand out of his face, Matthial grinned at the other man. "You invite every stray dog home? I won't question good fortune friend, lead the way an' I'll follow." He reached down, and in one smooth motion raised the pack and threw it over his shoulder. The weight of the shield pulled it down just enough for him to slide is free arm through the other strap. Pausing, he blinked up at the stranger. "Name's Matthial. Stray dog. Mind if I have your name Watchman?" Adjusting his sword sheath, he made to follow the rider.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Smiling, he shrugged and pulled an acrobatic roll out of his yvas to land on his feet. Sama'el was one of the best riders among the Drykas, even at his young age, and it was in part due to his young age that he occasionally showed off to feel like a full adult. There was a historical reason for all of that, but Sam didn't like to talk about it. "Sylirans are all right by me," he said. "They were good to me when I wandered through." He seemed content to walk alongside the man rather than towering above from Dohaina's back, though even standing on his own two feet, he was a tall fellow. He didn't offer to help Matthial with his load, not wanting to imply that he was weak or infirm even with his injuries. "Call it Drykas hospitality if you like. I'm not expecting anything in return if that's your worry. I'm Sama'el of the Sapphire Clan." He put his hand out to clasp wrists in Drykas fashion, or shake hands in Syliran. It didn't much matter to him.

[Matthial]

His injuries where just starting to act up as a matter of fact. Giving an unhappy grimace, the young man realized his ribs where starting to hurt. He must have bruised them during the fall. A real hard fellow, running from glass beaks. Shaking his head at nothing in particular, he found himself staring at Sama'el up close. Blinking, he did the math. He's a quick one. What he had just done, that was a practiced manuever. Not something that just happened, more a trained action. The muscles found it to be a relaxing, yet smooth movement. Matthial wasn't much of a rider, but he could recognize a good one when he saw one. Grinning he grabbed the other man's hand. He wasn't sure of the customs around here, but he figured a hand-shake was a hand-shake. Up close, Matthial was fairly certain Sama'el was a bit younger then him. Bit taller too. He was fairly lanky, but also toned out with muscle. "Well, nice to meet you Sama'el of the Sapphire Clan." Seem a better sort then most." He paused, adjusting the sword at his side. "Your doin' me a service. I won't forget that." He paused looking about at the various people. It was hard to tell wether he was eyeing a pretty young lady's rather ample bussom, or a nearby archery range. "I don't plan to be around long. So you don't have to worry about a squatter. I have business of my own, much like you. Gods got a funny way of playin with me however, they put a damn sea o' grass in my way." The more the young man spoke, the more it became apparent that he was trying to keep regular speech, and trying to hide a thick accent. It was a deeper sound, and the strain of speaking normally caused the voice to crack at odd times. Walking beside Sama'el the young man gave a slight sigh. "I tell ya' friend, this place doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. You Drykas are woven from a whole different tapestry. My rescuer told me of some sort of web, an I've heard a man can just collect wives like summer outfits. Seems a disservice to 'em if ya don't mind my saying. You all' just have bigger families?" He gave a questioning look to Sama'el. He didn't mean to bombard his companion, he just didn't understand Drykas culture at all. Re-adjusting his pack and resting a gloved hand on the hilt of a sword he continued to walk. If Sama'el's muscles where trained to feel at ease on a horse, Matthial's where at ease resting on that hilt. Almost like an extension of the arm rather then a sharpened piece of steel. He didn't mean to bombard his companion, he just didn't understand Drykas culture at all.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam smiled and shrugged off the compliment. Neither Sam, Denen, nor Jyn were exceptional cooks so his hospitality might be called into question rather soon. But when Matthial kept protesting his hurry to be off, Sam shook his head. "You stay as long as you need to. I just might put you to work at some point..." He grinned. Unlike Matthial, he had experienced both Syliran and Drykas culture, and could understand the differences and similarities between them. "We're organized around an extended family, called a pavilion for the great big tents you've seen around here. An Ankal is the head of each pavilion and their word is law within the pavilion for the most part. Gathered here together in Endrykas, there are some other authorities, but if you respect everyone around you, chances are you won't break any laws. "But the multiple wives, well, there are a deal more women than men. It's dangerous out here and most of us die young. So we're just lucky in that we get to enjoy more wives in the short time we have, I suppose."

[Matthial]

Matthial could only blink at that. It was a strange expression, almost like he was batting his eyelashes. In all honesty, he thought that was the second-dumbest thing he had ever heard. The first being his friend who thought he'd make a living as a traveling gambler. Why in the world didn't the Drykas just settle down, throw up some walls and LIVE. Agriculture and a safe place to live with bring the death toll down considerably. However, Matthial didn't say anything, because Syliras wasn't perfect either. A dictatorship run by knights where anything non-human had to put up with ALOT to make it in day-to-day living. Where any knight was the judge, jury, and executioner. These where hard times, and only getting harder, everyone made concessions... He grinned at Sama'el. "All the more for me!" He laughed as he considered Sama'el's previous words. "Don't know what I can do. I got a strong sword-arm and not much else. I know a thing or two about farming, but you folks don't strike me as the type. Otherwise the death rate wouldn't be so high!" He chuckled, but inside, it really bothered him. The Drykas people made little sense to the outsider. Still walking he stretched his arms and looked about. They had passed several... pavilians as they talked, and he was starting to get a sense of direction amidst the seemingly random chaos.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el laughed and nodded with a touch of rue but mostly good humor. When one stared in the face of Dira long enough, the fear leached away, leaving only acceptance and a desire to fill each breath with life and each day with experience. And having lived multiple lives in multiple societies, he had come to the conclusion that there was really no better or worse, but different, and one merely had to find the particular society that best fit. "If you decide to go native, one of the perks is a high woman-to-man ratio," he agreed. "And there's a little cultivation. Mostly places that Endrykas visits regularly that can tend to itself for most of the year. You don't have to be an expert in things to help out, though, and as long as everyone's helping out, they have a place here. Assuming they don't go around murdering people or raping their wives..."