Summer 12, 510 A.V. It was a warm sunset like most found on the endless grassy plains. An Isur found himself with a need to stretch his legs after a lengthy time riding idly in the back of a wooden wagon. Most of the caravan denizens had started to gather round small campfires to cook their meals and socialize before turning in for the night. Compared to this Isur named Trios they had to make sure they were up before dawn to keep their wagons on schedulable towards Riverfall. Stopping on a slight incline Trios cast a glance to the sunset, then to the caravan which was not to far away in case of trouble rearing it’s ugly head. Trios leaned on his wooden log of a cane as he gazed where the endless grass touched endless red sky. Stories of Glassbeak’s ferocity and surprising intelligence had slightly intrigued the Isur having only heard brief descriptions in tales. Fascination at the predator’s reputation made Trios respect the beast compared to the amount of fear that the creature usually instilled. Trios would however not admit it to himself but that this was a reason he kept close to the campground and kept a wary eye for any thing that would take him for their next meal. Plus it came in handy to have good night vision if the grasslands got a bit too dark too fast on the Isur. Unlike most of the human caravan patrons, Trios’s eyes weren’t useless when the sun went down. A small nightly breeze made Trios’s large leather hat and ocean blue beard rustle as the pale blue rock of man continued his route to encircle the campground before turning in for the night. Or maybe, thought the Isur considering his options, he’d cook some of the wild game that he had bought. Neither he nor Conrad was the best of cooks but the two outcasts of the caravan had managed to make their meals somewhat eatable if some form of meal preparation was needed. Thinking back on the last meal Trios was glad apples and carrots could be eaten raw, it was a simple meal but at least their bellies and energy remained full. Stumbling a bit out of stride, a sting of pain shot through the Isur’s bum right. The pain in the leg causing Trios to utter a small sting of curses that, only a hardened man would have picked up over the years. Conrad had recommended that the leg would be better off if he stretched it out every so often to ensure the muscles didn’t degrade from the lack of use. Seeing as this was the only time to do so, Trios had decided to listen to the doctor’s advice. So the muscled man in his baggy leather attire would continue his brief walk his frame outlined against the deep red sky. |