Wanderer's Respite.[Sama'el]

[Matthial]

Matthial blinked again, hoping that the latter wasn't a regular occurence... Matthial found that they had left the largest pavilions behind, and where steadily following a winding trail of smaller tents. He guessed they where leaving the 'main' area and heading farther out from the main encampment. He was silent for a moment as he looked about. All this talk about wives was about as alien to him as Drykas itself. In all his travels he had never really felt the pull torwards any one woman that he wanted for the rest of his life. Let alone three. Giving a grim smile to the sky, he continued to walk, only slowing down to re-adjust his pack. During one such occurence he noted a little girl running by into a tent. Turning to Matthial he raised an eyebrow. "What about you friend, any women I should avoid? Got a harem running about? Young guardsman like you should be a magnet." He figured the meaning was clear, but clarified simply because he could. As he did so, he let his hand wander about the worn hilt of his sword. Normally he spoke about whatever popped into his head, but he wasn't sure about the customs in regards to blacksmithing. It wasn't a dire need however, so he just walked, only looking over to study the horse as it would exhale sharply and look about. Suddenly, Sama'el slowed down and Matthial followed suit. He assumed they where getting close to Sama'el's home.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Dohaina walked beside Sama'el without the need for guidance, trained to follow him for the most part unless she was told to stay. They were both happier in each other's presence. He led Matthial into the outskirts of the Sapphire pavilions toward smaller parcels of land where people such as he lived, and his was a grouping of a mere three tents: one for him, one for Denen, the healer, and one for Jyn, his bonded servant, and his tiny daughter. Horse, his windrunner stallion, was picketed near Ugly Pony, who belonged to Jyn. Without Dohaina there to watch them, they weren't trusted to stay close. Horse was generally well-behaved after a couple of years working closely with Sama'el, but with Ugly Pony as a bad influence, he was sometimes acting out. "Welcome to my humble camp," he said. "You're welcome to set up a tent here for the time being, or if you haven't got one, there's room enough for more bodies in mine." He chuckled. "I had a fine, red-headed healer, but I didn't act fast enough and now she's married to someone else. I met a new girl, though, and I think... well, I don't want to jinx it just yet, but she might be a special one."

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen had been in his tent, humming quietly and tunelessly to himself as he crushed dried chamomile with his mortar and pestle. His legs were crossed, and he held the stone bowl in the makeshift surface created by his long tunic. He cast his eyes around for the measurement of hops he'd taken earlier. To save time during his work, he wanted to have the tea mixture made up before he needed it. Better to have it ready now than to take time when he needed the sedative immediately. He set the bowl aside, and leaned forward to grab the hops. He smelled them and wrinkled his nose. He wasn't very fond of hops. Alone, they were bitter, and he generally only used them in this particular concoction. His tent was filled with the powerful and lively scents of various herbs, which he'd begun stringing up along the top to dry, or storing in little jars and bags. Whatever he could find. The young healer was in the process of leaving his tent when he saw Sam. A wide, pretty smile crossed his features, and he dusted off his hands on his thighs and went to meet him and the stranger. Judging by his garb, Denen was quite certain this man was not Drykas. "Hello, Sam," he greeted. "Who is this with you?" His immediate attention was drawn to the blood, and he frowned. "You can't bring home every bloody stray you find and expect me to patch them up," he teased, but then motioned for them to follow him to his tent.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"A Syliran picked up by a hunter on the Sea of Grass," he signed to Denen so he wouldn't have to read his lips. "I just thought you could use the business. His name is Matthial." That attended to, he smiled to Matthial. "That's Denen. Looks like he wants you to come into his tent so he can see to your injuries. He doesn't speak Common very well, so I'll translate for you. Unless you speak Pavi..." With that, he motioned Matthial toward Denen's tent. The sooner that was taken care of, the sooner he would be on the mend.

[Matthial]

Matthial said nothing as they approached Sama'el's home. As the other man finished speaking, Matthial gave him a soft smile. "Arn't they all?" As they approached the second tent, Matthial noticed a rather odd aroma. He couldn't quite place it. Then a young man stepped out. Matthial did much the same as he had with the other Drykas. A fierce expression touched the features as his eyes covered every inch of the newcomer. It was a practiced gaze, one that had served Matthial well during his years of travel. When one kept company with vagabonds, bandits and cutthroats, it was good to know what weapons others carried. The other man looked unarmed for the most part, so Matthial gave him a warm smile as he did some sort of exchange with Sama'el. When Sama'el relayed the message to Matthial he grinned. "Is she cute?" He hadn't the slightest what a Pavi was, but assumed it was the local lingo. He then followed the healer into the tent. The smell was the first thing the young man noted. The next was an open space near the door. Utilizing this, Matthial unslung his pack, and let it drop to the floor. Then the man unstrapped his sword, and carefully laid it down atop the pack. Not quite at his side, but not out of reach either. It was a matter of respect. A guest should never wear a sword in the company of the host. Something his dad had taught him. With Sama'el and this 'Denen' speaking to the side, he gave a sigh and pulled the chainmail suit over his head, and slid his arms out of the arm lengths. The chain mail removed, he lay it down next to the sword, and straightened out his white tunic. Taking a seat in front of Denen, Matthial touched at his forehead with a rueful grin. "Well Doc, I tried to suprise a stone with a headbutt. Da' always said that the trick is to suprise 'em with a quick strike, so they are to confused to finish you off. Also, I might have bruised somethin' under 'ere." He motioned at the tunic as he looked about. His accent was becoming a bit thicker, less .. refined. Either he was becoming more comftorable with the two Drykas, or he was just tired.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen's lips twitched with a grateful smile and a silent, but promised hug to show his gratitude when this was all said and done. Of course he needed the business. He was an inexperienced healer with no regular customers beyond Sam and the horses. He slipped into his tent, immediately moving to his bucket of fresh water. He kept it in the dark tent because it was cooler in here when he kept the flaps open. The shade was a comfort. He motioned to Matthial to sit, knowing Sam would do him the favor of translating the language he had no hopes of understanding. He tore a scrap of cloth, and soaked it in the water, before he leaned forward, brows drawn, to dab at the bloodied wound. "How long has he been with you?" He asked Sam in sign. He'd have to ask about symptoms, after all. The head injury didn't seem pleasant.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Not cute, no. Beautiful." Then he grinned because his head could certainly be turned by a beautiful woman. When they got into the tent, he sat down with his back to the tent to give them as much room as possible. "I'll just translate for you. Denen can't hear, but he can read lips. Unfortunately, he can't read Common on lips, just Pavi, our language. I'll sign to him." Nodding to Denen, he signed, "From the reports I heard, he's been here a few days. I just found him sitting in the middle of the city. His wounds don't seem to have been properly dressed, so hopefully you have something to prevent infection." Of course Denen did. "His head was struck by a stone, he says, and there might be some bruising under his tunic." "You should take off the tunic so he can see to that, too. What all happened to you out there, other than fighting with stones." He grinned again, a good humored sort of fellow most of the time.

[Matthial]

Matthial blinked as an explanation was given to him. Still sitting the man raised his chin to the top of the tent and let out a deep breath. Rising to his feet he gave a grunt and pulled the shirt over his head. The garment removed he placed it atop his things before standing in front of the healer. The young man made for quite a sight without his shirt. It wasn't the arms (formed as they where from sword practice.) and it wasn't the pecs (toned yet not enough to be overly noticeable) it was the scars. They covered his entire abdomen, as well as his arms. Three distinctive claw marks fell across the chest. A wide swathe across his upper abdomen. A long slash transferring from the arm to the side. A long tear reaching up from the thigh the bottom hidden beneath the trousers. The collar bone contained a horrific looking burn, that upon closer inspection could have been a sort of brand. The arms contained nicks and cuts, most of which simply needed time to heal. The neck contained a cut along the side, healed with time, and from the looks of it, stitching that still hadn't been removed. On his left arm was a tattoo of a tree. The most recent injuries seemed to be a massive blue and purple bruise covering his left side. In the center it looked as if the skin had torn causing a slow drip of blood that ran down to the top of his pants. Brushing his hair out of his eyes once more Matthial gave a grin to nobody in particular. "Well, it goes a bit like this. I was taking in the sights of your beautiful sea of endless weeds, trying as I do, to take in some of the local culture. When I saw a bush." Spreading his arms he grinned at Sam. "Now, I was expecting a cute young grass-girl. You know, perky tits, bright smile, and a rather attractive backside. Instead, out popped the ugliest, fouliest, beakiest creature I have ever seen." He looked over at Denen and gave a wink. "Not that I wouldn't hit it. Don't get the wrong idea." Rubbing at his stubble, the young man gave a sigh as he looked back to Sam. "So this massive foul bird-thing emits a screech from the afterlife. About the same time as I remember the stories I heard about Glass-beaks. I decide I'm not sure if I can you.. know.. take this thing on if its got a nearby pack. I decided to ..uh.. relocate so I can get a better view. Now I had to go pretty far out, so I could.. see 'em you know? It was during my... tactical relocation that I discovered a small gully and saw that rock. Or.. woke up next to it?" He looked back to Denen. "Does that make me a whore?" He took a seat in front of the Healer and craned his head to Sam. "Anyhow, I uh... got rescued by a young Drykas fellow. Ronan.. I think? He patched me up. However, I can't keep such things on, the women of the grass can't get all doey-eyed over bloody bandages! Won't do." Stiffling a yawn, the young man gave a baleful look to nobody in particular as he waited on the healer's assessment.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen watched Sam's hands as he explained the situation, and returned to his work. He made a motion for Matthial to remove his tunic, and glanced over to Sam with a smile. Trying to multitask, he kept an eye on the fingers of his friend and another on the injuries. As they were revealed, however, he sank back and settled his hands in his lap. His brows furrowed, and he gently reached forth and brushed cool, slim fingers along the bruising. Slowly, he pressed in, attempting to assess if the bruises were the result of broken ribs. He caught sight of the wink, however, and his cheeks flushed bright red. He bit his lower lip and turned his eyes down. He pushed back his dark hair and fiddled with the rag in his hand. "He needs a good wash. Gods, he's...a mess, Sam. Don't tell him I said that! He'll think I'm rude. Most of his injuries will require only time, but if he's not washed, they won't heal. I can prepare an herbal bath for him that should take care of any infections, and his torso will need bandaged." He looked directly at Matthial then. "I would like it if he would stay a few days. I'd like to be sure his injuries are all tended to and healed before he goes and fools around with more glassbeaks."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el snorted at the story, but laughed and nodded, then offered Denen the following explanation: "He was apparently sticking his dick in bushes looking to father glassbeak hybrids. You might want to give his head a really thorough looking over. I did invite him to camp here until he figures out what he's doing, so you should have an opportunity to keep an eye on him. And Denen... be careful... you never know what he might be carrying if he's been putting it in glassbeaks and other prairie creatures." "Well, Matthial," he said, "you might want to stick to ladies you can see as opposed to what might be hiding in the bushes. Beat around the bush here in Endrykas or you might end up with bush men. Or glassbeaks and amorous rocks." He laughed. Of course, he looked the scars over, more interested in the stories those told than muscles. "But Denen will have you patched up soon, I'm sure. He said something about cleaning those wounds with an herbal thing. He's an expert, though. You're in good hands."