With Freedom Comes Responsibility (Rothyr)

[Basha'ir]

She noted how he considered her request, and she was already anticipating all the excuses he would make, not to agree. He barely knew her. Why would he want to waste his time further with trying to teach such an obviously unskilled woman such things? It was silly. She was being ridiculous. She wasn’t fit for such endeavors. He…

He was…agreeing! Basha’ir opened her mouth in surprise. It took her a moment to realize that he had asked her a question, and she had to think a moment, though the answer was obvious.

“A weapon? Well, do scissors count?” She frowned, thinking about actually procuring something more lethal than her sewing things.

“Would you really help me, Rothyr? That would be…fantastic! I could buy something. I have a little money.” Stolen from her dead master, if you wanted to look at it that way. True, she had no legal right to the mizas she had found, and taken. But she had definitely earned them! In a way she hated to think about.

With a guilty start, she added, “Of course, your wounds! We must see to those first. Do you wish for me to have a closer look? Which ones are bothering you the most?”

[Rothyr Windbourne]

“Scissors?” He started to wonder what he may have just gotten himself in to. Scissors? 'Well, it's a start,' he thought to himself, 'she could have something worse than that. At least it's pointy.' He rubbed his eyes, and cursed to himself. Not at her lack of weaponry, but because he was covered in salt as the water dried on his skin, and he got it in his eyes. He tried to blink it away and reflectively rubbed his eyes on his shoulder, getting more salt into them. And somehow, this guy was supposed to survive a campaign, teach this woman to fight, and survive being a hunter. It's worked for him so far.

“Aye, scissors could work in a pinch,” he said, trying to blink out the salt, tearing up in the process, “I got salt in my eyes, blast it,” he cursed again, damning his luck. His great day couldn't continue forever, he supposed.

“You may want to find something you can conceal, though, sometimes I keep a knife in my boot, or I'll sheath it in the small of my back where it can't be seen.” He showed her on his boot where he had made a makeshift sheath a knife could fit easily into with out being seen and be comfortable to the wearer, “That's when I go into more public places that might frown upon openly carrying a weapon, such as the Stallion. A drunk with a knife can turn a dinner party into a butcher's yard.” He put his foot back down on the sand, before continuing on, “In Cyphrus, we always kept weapons outside where drinking was being done, we figured that to be good manners.”

“I won't ask for payment, consider it a lesson from a friend to a friend. You can pay me by only using it in self defense. I've grown to like you a bit, and I'd hate for something to happen where I couldn't help. But, come to think of it...” He stroked his beard, as the swelling and tears in his eyes stopped. Finally, the salt had come out, “You could look after Windlass for me, though, if something happens to me in Eventide. She's a smart girl and would do well for you, and if I let her know to come find you if something were to happen to me, she'd be here in a day.”

“They're fine, not as bad as I thought they were. Salt helps cauterize wounds, and clean them. The cold water also reduced the swelling so I'll be just fine. I do appreciate having someone to talk to while I stripped down all undecent-like,” He teased her with a wink and a smile, “They say laughter is the best medicine anyhow.”

[Basha'ir]

She saw the look that passed across his face, and knew that, however polite Rothyr would be about it, he clearly was doing a mental headshake over her suggestion of scissors as a viable weapon of self-defense. The golden haired Dyrkas was momentarily distracted, though, it seemed. He was blinking and tearing up and rubbing at his eyes. Basha’ir, not being one for bathing in the sea herself, hadn’t a clue what was going on. But she could hardly attribute his obvious discomfort to her mention of scissors, could she?

When the hunter turned warrior finally explained what the cause of his distress was, Basha’ir wished that she could somehow assist him, but she had no idea what she could do. The moment seemed to pass, though, and Rothyr gained control of himself again. So Basha’ir too tried to refocus on the issues at hand. She peeked at his boot and the clever sheath built into it, but thought that, unfortunately, she did not own a pair of boots. His words made her think, though. She did have plenty of places about her clothing that she could conceal a little knife of some sort. It was just a matter of where to hide it so she could easily get to it. Distracted a bit by this line of thought, she was brought back to what Rothyr was saying when he made his little comment about liking her, and then speaking about his horse, which was confusing, because she had no underlying knoweldge of the attributes of the Cyphrus Striders.

Still, smiling, she first replied, “I like you too, Rothyr. You are a good and honorable man.” And the fact that he was also handsome didn’t hurt a bit, and even added to his slightly heroic status that Basha’ir subconsciously attributed to him, after he had rescued her and then expounded on the rough and tough life he led.

“And I so very much appreciate your kindness and of course I would care for Windlass, though I know there will be no need. If you can survive the type of day you’ve had today, then I’m sure your time with the knights will see you returning to Syliras healthy and in one piece.” Well, at least she hoped so, fervently. Basha’ir would truly hate to think of this man meeting his fate anytime soon. And she did know that beyond the walls of the city, any number of fantastically dangerous things waited to pounce on whoever set foot there. She could only hope that Rothyr would have good luck and come through this venture intact.

“So let us not think along those lines,” she said breezily, with that irrational hope that if they didn’t speak of it then it had less of a chance of occurring. She giggled at his little teasing comment and replied, “Well, I’m quite glad that I could provide you with a reason to smile and laugh a bit then, for it’s clear I’ve been perfectly useless otherwise.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “It is a pity I can’t buy your dinner. But perhaps, if you would walk with me back into the city, we could find someplace for me to purchase a knife? Though if you are now worn out and want only your supper and your bed, I completely understand. There is always tomorrow.”

[Rothyr Windbourne]

“You said you have no place to stay tonight, aye?” He said, remembering what she had said about looking for work and a place to stay. He currently stayed in the barracks, as he would until he left for Eventide with the army, but he didn't care to return there. Too cooped up, too crowded, too military for him.

He didn't like thinking of what may come from the campaign to Eventide, but he wanted to make sure Windlass would be taken care of. He didn't know what he would do if something happened to Windlass though, he'd probably be lost and at a lack for words. She was a smart one, though, and he was confident they'd be ok. But one can never be too careful. He was glad Basha agreed to look after her.

“That sounds fine, we'll go get yourself a knife,” He added, “And if you're not opposed, I've a tent large enough for the two of us. We could camp out here, and get started on your training in the morning.”

He smiled, “I've had enough of the barracks for a few days, and I'm sure they wouldn't miss me. That is, unless you had another housing situation lined up. I thought I would offer.”

[Basha'ir]

Basha’ir’s eyebrows shot up at Rothyr’s suggestion, about sleeping in a tent. She really hadn’t expected anything of its kind, and she considered it for a moment. It was yet another kind and generous offer on his part, so in that she wasn’t surprised. But, were there hidden strings attached? From many men, such an “offer” would clearly have come with some agenda that would result in an exchange in services, a bartering of, I did this for you, now what will you do in return for me, eh, my lady? Mentally, though, she did a quick recap of all that had transpired since those first few words that the Drykas man had said to her, back at the bar counter of the tavern. Rothyr had shown himself to be nothing but a gentleman, and, truthfully, staying by herself, even at an inn, would put her at risk again. Gah! She was already sick and tired of being so vulnerable. At least so far, Rothyr had been respectful, polite and laid back, and she didn’t feel like it was any kind of “act.” So, in the end, it took no more than a few seconds for her to nod affirmatively.

“That sounds perfect. That way we’ll have more time for you to show me a few things, and you won’t have to come find me in the morning. And…I’d enjoy the company, honestly. It’s very nice to have a friendly face to look at.” She smiled in a friendly way herself, and then said, “Let’s go, then? I’m quite thrilled. I’ve never owned a weapon before.” That’s sounded silly, so she laughed. She looked at him with dancing eyes. Clearly she was excited.

“I’ll do my best not to make you regret your offer,” she teased, though she didn’t clarify which one she was referring to.”

[Rothyr Windbourne]

He smiled to himself. It would feel nice to have someone nearby as he slept. Of course, he did not want to ravish anyone. That thought was far from thought. He was still in love with the woman who would be his wife, slaughtered so long ago on the plains. The blood on the grass that was the reason he came to Syliras in the first place. If she had touched him as she spoke, she would see her as he saw her, that vision of dark haired beauty. Just by her eyes she reminded him of her. Helping her felt like he was helping Amora. She might even know her pavilion, Everstride, but he would pray she did not see her as he last saw her, dying on the open plains before the gods and all. He was glad she might be around because she would be where none other than Windlass had been, around. Windlass saw the act too, and mourned for him, which is likely why she'd stayed around so long considering she had not chosen him to ride her, as the man he had so brutally killed to make an escape had been.

“Aye then,” he said, “Let us find you a weapon, then, and I'll make sure you get a good deal on a fine piece of work.” His time amongst the Diamond clan had taught him knowledge on what a good piece of Iron could do. He knew how a sturdy piece of weaponry had to withstand pressure, strikes, cuts, and how the blade should feel and how it could maintain an edge. Those who shirk on their weaponry or armor at the blacksmith are rarely repeat customers, after all.

There was an ulterior motive to his helping the lady, though. There was something behind his mind that made him strive to help her. If she had touched him, she would know. His wife had died on the plains, and he had not been there to save her. He had not been there, as he should have as a husband, been there to rip him from the web and save the woman he loved. He failed. He failed, so his wife died. He would be damned if it happened again. So, he would teach this woman the ways of the knife, as much as he knew. He would help her find a weapon and show her how to use it, so she would not be helpless. So she would not cry out for help again. And if it came to be, that she found a man to be a husband. He would not be so helpless as he was.

“With luck,” He said, “You'll not have to use it, and your willingness to learn, I don't regret a thing already.”

[Accolade]

Basha'ir

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Rhetoric	+ 3 XP
Socializing	+ 3 XP
Land Navigation	+ 1 XP
Persuasion	+ 1 XP

Lores

•	Lore Earned
•	Rothyr Windbourne: Heroic Knight
•	The tale of the smiley-face scar
•	A desire to be more
•	Maintaining self control

Rothyr Windbourne

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Intimidation	+ 1 XP
Rhetoric	+ 3 XP
Storytelling	+ 2 XP
Socializing	+ 3 XP

Lores

•	Lore Earned
•	A chivalrous deed: Saving Basha'ir
•	The request: Teaching Basha'ir how to use a weapon
•	Befriending the dark-haired beauty: Basha'ir

Notes :

Fun read you two, the chemistry was amazing. I'd love to read more.

The Sylir has spoken

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out.