PM to join [Bronze Woods] A Heated Herb Hunt

[Wynn Argall]

The thirty-sixth day of Summer, 514 AV

Syliras was hot. There was no other way around it. The whole city had begun to swelter under the oppressive summer temperatures like an old sock left behind a stove. The temperature had risen to such a point that there were a steady flow of heatstroke victims being carted in and out of the various establishments and homes dedicated to the healing arts. The knights had already been advised to switch to leather armor, as their metal suits would do nothing more than roast them alive under the circumstances of the weather. Many of those treating the burns of those too foolish to avoid the brunt of Syna's furnace of a smile had been sending in requests for squires to either accompany or procure herbs and other necessities from the Bronze Woods.

Wynn had been chosen as one such squire. Both Linnae and Tareesa had gone on a trip into the Cobalt Mountains in search of some herbs that only grew in higher altitudes. Fortunately, he was only to accompany and protect, rather than camp and search. The man's name was Lacriox, which sounded foreign to the Common tongue, but then again it was Syliras. As far as cultural diversity went, the city was certainly near the top in that regard. The hallways had becoming incredibly dangerous and wet places to be. Everyone pushed up against each other as they passed, their sweat mingling into what seemed like a river as each person slipped by and around the other. While the lighter leather armor wasn't as oppressive as the plate, the fitted clothing was still almost more heat than Wynn could bear. The added weight of his greataxe strapped to his back made the journey from his dorms down to the main gate all the more miserable as it too but half a tick for him to start sweating as though he were the head of a river.

Fortunately, there was still plenty of water. Some of the knights had been discussing plans for a drought if the weather continued on as such. Water flask strapped to his belt, Wynn wasn't very worried about it at all. Summer in Syliras was hot, but it wasn't as if it were that hot. As he pushed and shoved his way through the never ending tide of human sweat, he wrinkled his nose as he finally emerged from the castle proper and into the streets. Usually things were pretty rank, but the heat had pushed the smells to an entirely new level. What had once been merely the stench of emptied chamber pots was now a full fledged entity of its own, shoving itself into unsuspecting nostrils and ravaging the senses within. Even the people seemed to take on new and horrifying scents that Wynn found himself adamantly against discovering the origin of most of.

When he finally rounded a corner to find himself in the more open area of the main gate, he leaned up against a wall and took a swig of the already warm water at his hip. The trek had taken much more out of him than he'd anticipated. While he wasn't an incredibly adept horseman, Wynn was pushing for a charge that had horses. He still hadn't gotten a writ to check out his own transportation, so when it came to escorting civilians, Wynn always had a glimmer of hope that they might have horses. Moving towards a group of knights who had been placed in charge of assigning squires to those who needed escorts, Wynn reported in. Everyone, as usual, was in a hustle to bustle, and one of the knights glanced down a handful of pages before pointing in a direction and slapping Wynn on the back.

Not wanting to take up any more of their time, he ambled over towards the location the knight had signaled. There, under an awing that created a short breath of shade, stood a man in a cloak. He was the main focus of Wynn's attention, as a cloak was something that - at that point in temperature - Wynn would have rather eaten than worn. He figured a man whose name was "Lacriox" would be the sort of fellow to do such a thing. If now, however, there were several other persons milling about that were just as much likely targets. Approaching the hooded man, Wynn offered a short bow, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose and onto the dusty ground. "Squire Argall, at your service, sir. Are you Lacriox?"

[Lacriox]

Out of the frying pan and into the crowded, sticky, sweaty fire. Isn't there someplace that doesn't have absurd weather conditions? Lacriox sat under a small awning near the main gate, silently debating with himself over which city has the least detestable weather among the ones he's been to. It certainly wasn't Syliras. Fanning himself with the fabric of his hood, he debated holding his shield above his had to create more shade. Unstrapping the leather belting of the shield, he slid it off his back which was now drenched with sweat. He settled the large wooden shield on top of his head, only to discover the position he was sitting did not accomodate the shield well. It sat unbalanced and uncomfortably until Lacriox resigned in defeat and let his shield fall to the ground. This extreme heat was the reason Lacriox was waiting by the gate. Upon arriving to Syliras, he almost assumed that the city was under siege with the innumerable number of people being transported to healing establishments. He was half-correct; the thing besieging the city was heat. Having quite a good deal of experience with the healing arts, Lacriox volunteered his knowledge to said establishments, doing his best to treat those that came through. Many came in with ailments very simple to treat that bore striking resemblences to the afflictions Lacriox learned to treat in Avanthal; dehydration, burns, heat exhaustion, and the like. Heat shock, heat stroke, and heat delirium, however, were far too advanced to be treated through manual means and required herbs or magic. Being incompetent in the latter, Lacriox decided on gathering herbs to treat those in need, or maybe to sell them to the healing establishments for future use. Lacriox did not object to charity in general, but being unemployed, he needed to find some way of earning currency. In either case, the knighthood of Sylrias had decided to give Lacriox a squire escort to find herbs in the Bronze Woods under the assumption that it was an act of charity. Lacriox sat anxiously, his feet uneasily tapping on the clay underfoot. He had not seen the roots and flora in this climate before, which were presumably different from those that grow in subfreezing temperatures. He had seen foreign roots before, but only after they had been uprooted and prepared for use. He had hoped that he could venture alone, and in the case that he could not identify any useful herbs, he could simply toss his hands in the air in defeat and return home. With in escort, no such option exists. He couldn't waste someone else's time like that, especially not a would-be knight's Perhaps he could pretend he knew what roots he was picking so the squire didn't feel his time was being squandered. Taking a swig from his waterskin, he felt warm water fill his mouth, which he unceremoniously spat out onto the ground. Wiping his mouth, he looked up to see a leather-clad man standing before him. "Squire Argall, at your service, sir. Are you Lacriox?" Sweat dripped down his face in torrents. Between the two of them, it was a definite possibility that they use all of the medicine on themselves before they return alive to Syliras. "Oh, yes!" Lacriox hastily stood and mimicked the bowing gesture, hoping it wasn't inappopriate to do so to someone of such social class. "Yes I am Lah-qwa," he repeated his name back slowly, feigning heat exhaustion as an excuse to pronounce his name clearly for the squire before him. His name was pure fabrication with its origin in a long-dead language, so others mispronouncing his name was common. "I believe we are bound for the Bronze Woods to gather medicinal herbs?" He spoke politely, accidentally mimicking the bowing gesture once again out of nervousness. "I am ready to depart whenever you are, though I would advise haste, crows don't like their corpses well done." He laughs heartily as he lifts his slightly unwieldy shield and rests it against his side.

[Wynn Argall]

Though the heat and what sun he'd managed to pelt his face with the past couple days had given Wynn's face a ruddy complexion, his cheeks turned several shades darker as the hooded man who did indeed turn out to be Lacriox politely replied with the proper pronunciation of his name. Wynn had sounded out the syllables phonetically, verbalizing "LAY cree ox". Upon hearing the name's intended sound, he felt rather silly indeed. Fortunately, Larciox didn't seem the type to press and issue and proceeded to suggest they set out, as he was ready and something morbid about crows. Deciding to repay his new companion in kind, Wynn kept his mouth shut as the question about the crows rose up into his throat, trapped by politeness. Instead, he nodded, wiping some sweat from his brow before turning back to face the bustling crowd and blistering heat. "No horses then." The statement was more of a verbal aside to himself rather than anything meant for the ears of others, and Wynn wasted little time in pushing his way through the crowd towards the gates.

As they passed through, Wynn gave the guards a friendly nod of the head. His gesture was returned with grim bobs as the guards had little time for formalities what with an increased flow of traffic from the outpost sending people with more serious burns and ailments to be treated in the castle. Doing what he could to avoid the afflicted but still push his way free of the main mass of people, Wynn finally emerged on the other side of the gates where there road opened up a bit wider and the volume of people was more focused on the middle rather than the sides. Allowing a few breaths for Lacriox to catch up, Wynn gave him a friendly grin before heading off in the direction of the woods. As they walked, Wynn found his eyes drawn to those waiting in line to gain entrance to the city. There were a large majority of men with children strapped to their backs or tagging along at their heels. Some of them seemed to be in fairly bad condition.

The heat had come on fast and with a fury that had taken the city by surprise, or at least it seemed as such. Summers were usually pretty warm, but Wynn could never remember how hot the previous summer was as it was always clouded by the chill of winter. From what he could remember, the city was about as hot as it ever was. The sweat that had been trickling down his neck for the past half-bell had finally found its way into the small of his back, causing Wynn to readjust his posture in a vain attempt to scratch the spot without actually touching it. It had been some time they'd been travelling in a comfortable silence before Wynn pivoted on his toes to walk backwards and look at his companion. He still wore the hood which obscured his features to the point that Wynn found the other man, despite his cheery and open tones, to be a bit suspicious. "So... What are we collecting today?"

It hadn't been an incredibly long time since the last time he'd gone on a foray into the woods for herbs. It had been astronomically unsuccessful, but that had mostly been due to unforeseen circumstances as well as his isolation from anyone who had any knowledge regarding the plants he'd been searching for. Thankfully, this time he was accompanying someone who, for all intents and purposes, knew what he was looking for. Even if the woods were about a bell or so's distance away, Wynn felt rather confident they wouldn't be there for much longer than a few bells more. Tripping over an unseen rock, Wynn stumbled backwards before regaining his balance with a wave of his arms. Choosing then to slow his pace to fall in line beside rather than infront of Lacriox, he shot the man an apologetic smile, turning his body more at an angle so he could both face Lacriox as well as keep his eyes on the road. "It's not... connel, is it?" From the tone in his voice, Wynn very clearly intimated that connel was at the top of his list of plants he absolutely detested.

[Lacriox]

The sweltering heat forced a dense rosy blush across Lacriox's face as he followed close behind his squire escort by the name Argall. The maneuvering through the crowd exiting the castle was not an easy feat. Welcoming his wide shield back to his sweaty back, Lacriox restrapped his shield, creating an awkward burden for sliding through the crowded castle. He did his best to apologize every time he accidentally side-swiped or pushed people aside, but with the sheer number of passersby, he could have simply repeated the word "Sorry" one hundred times and still would have been in debt. Lacriox panted heavily, glancing up every now and then to reaffirm his suspicion that he was severly underpace for the squire who was easily wearing two more layers than he was. The squire realized this, too, stopping every now and then to let Lacriox catch up. This continued until a question rang through the air. "Soo..what are we collecting today?" 'Oh no.' Lacriox thought to himself "It's not connal, is it?" 'Isn't that the bath herb? I remember Whitevine loving hot baths infused with connal...' 'Is that what I'm supposed to be looking for? ' Lacriox's worst fears for the situation emerged without a moment's delay. He subtly tried to hasten his pace to lose eye contact with the companion now walking beside him in hopes that his questions would disappear, or maybe his shield would deflect them entirely. These efforts proved to be in vain as the clearly more physically fit squire easily kept pace as Lacriox exerted himself to his fullest. "Well...I think that...well, I guess we could..." He bought as much time as he could to give himself time to think. His mind raced as he did his best to recall herbs common to this season and climate. "Well, I could use painkilling herbs, so.." Painkiller herbs, that would include... "Batonal is very common, it grows all across Mizahar and is good for pain, and it looks... it is the type of plant that has...it's got round leaves, and it is kind of smelly. Smelly good." Lacriox figured that as long as he kept talking he could keep stalling. As he calmed down, he slowly remembered more and more about his medicinal teachings. "If we see any bushes we should check them for brinetooth berries, they're blue, kind of oval shaped? They're good for recovering from illness. We're less likely to find that, but grows in forests like this, and-- whooo" The woods around him spun and fell out of focus, turning into a smeared flurry of green yellow and brown, causing him to nearly trip over an exposed tree root. The recovery from the fall would have been more graceful if he wasn't already winded from the small journey to get here. Regaining his balance, he sighed in part embarassment and part exhastion as he unstrapped his shield and discarded it. His shield clunked dumbly against the dirt, crumpling a few dry leaves underneat. His shield was then joined on the ground by Lacriox's bag and cloak. Lacriox then winced and shakily took a few gulps of disgustingly warm water from his waterskin. In the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of his companion, who Lacriox realized had not seen his face since they met. There wasn't any real reason for wearing his cloak with the hood up besides not wanting to be seen my any Vantha from the Whitevine hold. In this kind of weather, so far away, the chances of that were slim to none, to be optimistic. No one from Avanthal would willingly experience this maddening weather. Anyone from that inhumorously freezing would find themselves unconcsious from heat stroke in a matter of-- "Oh, and Flametoe. It's a smellingsalt. You'll know the root when you smell it. Think 'onions but way worse'." Lacriox laughed at his own joke before sizing up the colorful expanse of woods that lay in front of him. Blue berry, round smelly leaves, stinky root. That's what we're looking for. It was Lacriox's first time actually searching for the herbs themselves in nature, and he had not happened to know the uprooting techniques for the plants. He knew that many types of plants need to be uprooted, cut up, seperated, or transported in certain ways or at certain times, but because the list of herbs to find contained only basic, common roots, fruits, and leaves, he was hopeful that general knowledge should suffice in collecting them. "Oh, and no connal I think. And unless you're in the mood for a nice hot bath right about now, we shouldn't need it at the moment." Lacriox covered his salty brow with his hand to glace up at the sky through the canopy. "If you are, I'd be happy to prepare a bath for you later in thanks for the company, but speaking for myself, I'd feel that I've expereinced enough heat for a few seasons." Relieved of his baggage, Lacriox marched over various flora, double checking the ground in front of him before taking a step in order to damage as little potential medicine as possible.

[Wynn Argall]

Oddly enough, Lacriox seemed to find that upon the presentation of Wynn's inquiry their current pace was too slow. He sped up, his feet hitting the ground with fair amount of force more than before. Wynn, uncertain as to what caused the sudden need for an increase in speed, kept pace, a concerned tilt to his unsure smile. Reflecting on his question, Wynn came to the conclusion that they might be searching for a time dependent herb. Perhaps it was some sort of flower that only bloomed for a few bells once a day or something of the like. The more he thought about it, the quicker his own steps became until the two of them were trotting down the North Kabrin Road under the blistering heat of the day for - in the eyes of the few whom they passed - no apparent reason.

Shortly after pushing the pace to somewhere just below a jog, Lacriox spoke in between panting breaths. Wynn nodded, focused more upon the off putting weight of the axe strapped to his back than what was actually being said. At the mention of batonal, Wynn gave the other man an interested raise of the brow. He'd never heard of the herb before, but that wasn't surprising given his complete lack of study in herbalism or anything related to it. Making a mental note that batonal was round and smelled a smelly sort of good, Wynn found himself already forgetting it as Lacriox continued. Brinetooth berries sounded almost familiar.

They had finally arrived at the Woods, the trees rising high into the sky and casting shadows across the road, though the air itself was so hot that even a respite from the direct rays of the sun did little to alleviate the temperature to a point where it was noticeable. Lacriox seemed hardly daunted by the impressive collection of leaf and wood, heading directly into the mess of trees without so much as a second glance as he continued on with what sort of things they were looking for. Lagging a little behind Lacriox, Wynn frowned as he was given a description of the berries. He was almost certain he'd seen them the last time he'd been to the woods. Weighing the benefits of interrupting Lacriox to let him know that the berries were most likely going to be in the forest against the potential for earning the man's distaste, Wynn's decision making was cut short as the man toppled over an exposed root with a startled "cooing" noise.

Wynn stopped in his tracks, watching the man's arms flail out to both sides in a successful attempt at regaining balance before stumbling several feet forward with heavy, weary steps. Upon finally stopping his unexpected momentum, Lacriox unstrapped his shield, letting to fall to the ground along with his cloak and rucksack. As he stood there, suckling at his waterskin, Wynn was surprised at how normal looking the other man was. He'd though Lacriox might have worn the cloak to conceal some sort of disfiguration or premature balding. The man before him, however, was merely a dark haired individual with rather kind looking eyes.

Leaning against a tree, Wynn took a few swigs from his own water skin, grimacing at the taste and temperature. Seeing as Lacriox was alright, Wynn didn't want to patronize him by asking if he was alright. Instead, the man offered another herb. Wynn was beginning to regret asking. He figured the flametoe couldn't smell any worse than the city they'd just come from, so Wynn nodded, offering his own polite grin as Lacriox laughed about something he'd just said. As his companion surveyed the woods in search of promising locations for herbs, Wynn unstrapped his axe and slung it over his shoulder, gazing through the gaps in the trees and into what he could see of the underbrush. His job was to protect not to gather. He assumed he'd be doing more of the latter, but at least he had a chance to shift the weight that he'd carried on his back to a more comfortable spot on his shoulder.

At the mention of connal, Wynn turned his attention back to Lacriox. Raising a brow, Wynn gave the man an appreciative grin. "So that's what it's used for." He muttered, shaking his head. "Maybe a dip in the Sea, but I won't be needing connel for that." His cheery response was received before the other man began his inspection of the plants around him, taking much more careful steps than before. Wynn turned back to survey the woods, wiping some sweat from his brow that was threatening to seep into his eyes. All seemed still and peaceful for the moment. Relaxing his stance some, Wynn let his attention fall more towards the ground, his gaze lazily rolling from one bush to the next in idle searching for the berries.

[Lacriox]

Spotting a fruited shrub tucked in the shade of an golden-leaved tree, Lacriox cautiously marched in its direction, crunching the bronzed flora underfoot. As he strode towards the foliage, dark, circular berries hung next to equally as dull flowering petals, concealed within the cover of the dense branches. A single berry was removed without complaint. Lacriox inspected the oddly colored berries, noting they seemed significantly different in hue from those he had seen. Any number of variables between Avanthal and Syliras could have accounted for this, perhaps? Perhaps the bluish hue had been bleached out in the heat. Lacriox pinched the fruit between his fingers and inhaled a few times, but scents of salt from his sweat, spice from the dirt underfoot, and the open forest air arrived to Lacriox's senses long before the fruit's scent had even departed. Lacriox pondered for a moment before popping the fleshy berry in his hand and sampling a small drop. As the taste settled on his dry tongue, the pleasant taste of liquid coating his dehydrated mouth was quickly replaced by the acrid, nauseating taste of rotting fruit. Lacriox, feeling almost insulted, discarded the ex-berry, and ground it underfoot until it was smeared colorfully along the crimson and gold leaves. That was clearly not brinetooth. Investigating the shrub further, Lacriox searched for any sort of clue as to why such a poisonous fruit had grown from such an innocent-looking bush. Pushing aside the sharp branches, he adjusted his position and shifted his weight to catch a glimpse of the inner layer of the shrubbery. Past the dense outer shell of leaves and branches, the bush was nearly hollow, in that only skinny, feeble, brown branches made up the skeleton of the bush. Immediately, a bright red-ribbed stem bearing equally bright green leaves caught his eye. It bore the same dull fruit and flowers as the one he had regretfully sampled earlier. 'That's cheating.' Lacriox complained to himself silently. The highly poisonous berry had concealed its telltale signs of danger in flora by growing obscured in the shade of a large shrub. Not long after seeing the awful fruit, he smelled it too. Spicy, volatile, like onions, only worse. 'Wait, I know that smell. There's no way that could be anything else...' Lacriox delved further into the bush, dealing mutual damage to himself and the razor sharp branches to work his torso inside to search the loose soil near the base of the shrub. Digging his fingertips into the dirt near a few brown stems growing meekly from the ground, he scooped a thin layer of dark mulch and soil aside until he exposed a bright red mass. With a bit of persuasion, the potato sized root freed itself. "Ah, so the sun and heat are too much for you too! I know your suffering my Tikita friend. We may both be warmbloods in birth, but that doesn't mean we couldn't deal with a little shade every now and then to cool us off." Lacriox appraised the smelly root, gently scratching at it with his now dirt-crusted fingernails. Tikita. The Vantha word for warmblood. Lacriox knew very well that plants don't have blood, and knew that warmblood was by no means a compliment, but there was something endearing about finding a plant facing the same trials and tribulations as he was. Scratching at the root released a potent barrage of grainy stink, snapping Lacriox out of his daydream. Following the same procedure as he did for the first flametoe root, he uprooted several more before emerging from the leafy casing of the bush. "They're in the bushes! Shyke, it's too hot for even the plants to want to grow out of shade!" Lacriox laughs heartily as he marched towards the squire with a newfound swagger, glowing with a contagious smile. "Get a good whiff of that!" Lacriox triumphantly holds up his small collection of Flametoe root a respectful distance away from his escort's face. "These roots are strong. We'd better round up as much as we can, they're worth quite a good amount." Lacriox lays the crimson roots on a small patch of leaves near his bag and shield before laying out his cloak. He places the roots on his cloak and pats them a few times before wrapping them up and tucking the makeshift bag away into his bag. "Each one is probably worth a few gold mizzas, so it'd be a waste not to round up as much as possible" In packing up his bag and pulling out another loose piece of clothing, Lacriox noticed the greataxe laying on the ground. He had seen it earlier, but it seemed so much more out of place on the ground in nature than it did at a knight's--or squire's-- side. "Why did you come armed?" Lacriox asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced up at the squire who hadn't been putting a whole lot of effort into searching for the roots they came for. "Is it dangerous out here? Do you have to kill things frequently? Why not just bring a shield like me?" Lacriox realized that his questions, although reasonable and asked with a friendly, amicable tone, were numerous. He resumed preparing another stretch of fabric to cradle the roots in. "I apologize, is it part of a code that knights have to follow? That's understandable." Lacriox tried to leave the air as clear as possible with no hostility as he began retracing his steps through the leaves to the shaded bush he discovered earlier.

[Wynn Argall]

A few paces to his right, a rabbit had silently emerged from the underbrush. Its nose wiggled in heat as its beady eyes blinked rapidly in the patch of sun it now found itself. Wynn watched the creature with a curious tilt of his head, having only seen the creatures in pictures and flattened as skins. It was fluffy, round, and had an alluring sort of appearance that sparked and itch in Wynn's arms, compelling him to pick up the animal and hold it close to his face. Taking great care to control his breathing, Wynn instead forced himself to remain still and quiet, gently adjusting the weight of his axe as he began to inch down into a squat. The rabbit seemed to have no interest in the presence of the two men. Instead, it took a few lazy hops towards Wynn before nuzzling the ground with a muted rustle, pushing the leafs around in search of something delicious. Wynn watched on, a lopsided grin spread wide across his face. He wondered if rabbits were something one could keep as a pet. They were incredibly adorable.

A snapping rustle of leafs and mutterings startled the little creature back into the mess of foliage it had come from, eliciting a disappointed sigh from Wynn before he turned to see what the ruckus was. His eyes caught Lacriox disappearing into a bush, a frustrated look on his face. Wynn's grin returning somewhat, he stood up once more, stretching his legs out in front of him one by one before turning to survey the area once more. The area had a peaceful, torpid heat to it, something Wynn found only seemed to exist in the throes of nature. There was an exclimation from the now talking bush of leafs, which Wynn just chuckled at without glancing back. Lacriox seemed to be enjoying himself despite the oppressive weather of the day. Wiping some more perspiration from his forehead, Wynn stared down at the wet spot on his sleeve. He wondered just how much sweat the entire population of Syliras released in a single bell. Probably enough to water the fields twice over.

Once more, the bushes shook as Lacriox emerged with dirtied hands holding red roots, a large smile on his face. It seemed even the flora were doing their best to hide from the brutality of Syna. Wynn laughed at the appearance of his triumphant comrade, shaking his head and backing up slightly as he approached with the pungent roots. "They're..." Wynn coughed, the stench of the herb hitting his nostrils like a bludgeon over the head with a cast iron pan. "Very strong!" He blinked, holding back moisture that had began to form in the corners of his eyes. Now taking liberal steps backwards, Wynn gave Lacriox an incredulous look as the man wrapped the lumps of reek in his cloak before putting them into his bag. He hoped the smell would wash out, though the strength of the oder seemed to imply otherwise. Raising his brows at Lacriox's tentative estimate on the herb's value, Wynn gave a short whistle. "That much then?" They were probably worth that much because nobody wanted to deal with the smell. Wynn figured if he needed the herb, he'd go as far as paying several gold mizas just so he wouldn't have to pick them.

Thankfully, Lacriox gave him an opt out by asking him questions rather than pushing the invitation to join in the search. Nodding that he was listening and had heard all of Lacriox's inquiries. At his companion's finish with an apology, Wynn shoot his head, letting the other man know it wasn't necessary to feel as though he were being too pushy. The order existed to serve the people who served them, it was a circular relationship, despite the honorifics given to those who served. At least, that was what Ser Normit had told him. Wynn still had a hard time figuring out what it all meant for a relationship to be circular. Deciding to answer the questions in order, Wynn started, letting Lacriox move about his business as suited him. He kept his distance, not wanting to get much more than a little whiff of the plants the man was in search of.

"Mizahar is dangerous, even near Syliras." He shrugged, more for his own benefit than Lacriox's, "And it's hard to protect against them without a weapon." Amending his statment, Wynn stuttered out, "Them being the... dangers." Pushing forward, Wynn addressed killing instead. "I personally haven't had to kill anything, but..." Wynn let the sentence drift off. He wasn't opposed to violence, per say, the thought of having to take another's life was something he tried not to dwell on. It was a mountain he'd climb when it came to it. "An axe suits me better, I suppose." Lacriox didn't seem very keen on the idea of weapons. Wynn didn't really see a reason to bring a shield along instead of an axe. If they were attacked, he'd much rather be able to fight back rather than crouch behind a sheet of metal and hope they would get too tired to continue their assault. It never once crossed Wynn's mind that a shield might be a weapon in its own right. "We do have quite a few rules, but..." He scrunched his brows as he tried to remember if there as an explicit imperative that mandated weapons be taken everywhere. He decided it was more of a common sense sort of thing than an actual rule of the Order.

As was usually expected in a conversation, Wynn let a small pause pass between them before venturing any questions of his own. Not particularly sure what he should ask about, Wynn ventured a pass at Lacriox's own equipment. "Why do you take only a shield?" It was something that had been itching at the back of his mind for awhile.

[Lacriox]

Lacriox began to answer immediately without breaking stride. By now this inquiry had nearly become a formality that he was obliged to answer with every person with which he had been acquainted. "You said it yourself. You carry steel to protect yourself from danger. Your reasons are sound, they are to preserve life as opposed to ending it. I'd venture as far as to guess that a chivalrous man such as yourself may carry reservations in regards to killing another. A lone shield removes that possibility while leaving your protective ideals untarnished." Returning to the newly forged clearing in the shrub from earlier, he found himself cooled slightly by a wave of relief washing over him. Until now there had been the very realistic possibility of finding nothing at all on his assigned quest of procuring herbs in a foreign land, wasting the time of two men at once. Sweat all the same streamed from salty pools resting on his brow. With his hands covered in dirt and flametoe skin caught under his fingernails, Lacriox decided against wiping his face for now. Lacriox stopped, for once re-evaluated his habituated argument, deciding that it is unrealistically in favor of braving danger virtually unarmed. "I will not speak mistruth. Entering combat without the will or even the means to end a life puts one at great mortal danger. Yet here we both stand today." Lacriox parted the sediment by the brown stems once again, unearthing several more flametoe roots. While he could easily carry more in his fist by the stem, he decided that he did not know enough of herbalism to treat the plants so carelessly. He instead returned carrying an almost uncomfortably light load, guiding himself through arbitrary landmarks he took note of to make the short walk back to his escort simple. The roots fell upon the downed shield with an impact louder than Lacriox had intended. So much for meticulous care. He secondly noticed that he had already tied up his cloak around the earlier batch of flametoe roots, and decided against disturbing the roots already bundled as he lowered himself to the ground. Lacriox continued his justification as he peeled his shirt off over his head. The heat was much more tolerable without a sweaty second skin. Why hadn't this obvious idea occurred to him earlier? Perhaps it was the rather 'equipped' nature of Squire Argall. Lacriox laid out his shirt, the roots sitting comfortably on the damp fabric. After a moment of appraising the condition of the makeshift padding, he began to stand. "No man is born without a heart. I don't have any reason to believe otherwise for anyone. As an attacker may try to pierce my heart with steel, I'll pierce his with words. And if that does not work..." Lacriox hammers the wooden base of the shield at the end nearest him with a tight fist, making a *thump* that served as a testament to the obvious sturdiness of the shield. "...There's always percussive persuasion." Lacriox claps his hands against his thighs in a half-squat, with a hearty laugh that was hard not to mimic. His grin fell into a pensive expression for a moment before turning to make a final trip to the shrub. "A sharpened blade is typically ignorant of persuasion or reason, and will strike a good man or a corrupt man equally. Claiming that every permanent wound that you inflict is justified is claiming you understand your victim well enough for you to pass mortal judgement, and have decided with conviction that you are more deserving of his life than he is. A sharpened blade is an apathetic mercenary. A tyrant or a saint could be standing at the blade or the hilt. It does not matter. We all bleed red. I am of course speaking from experience when I say mortal men are not infallible in judgement. My childhood was spent with Vantha who were far too eager to condemn me for being an outsider. I was never allowed to leave my room, so if they ever got lost, they could lay their swords or hateful words on the ground and it would always point towards me like a compass." The jokes were flowing today. The only thing dryer than this damned heat was Lacriox's typical sense of humor. So why was it today that he had decided to make light of his tragic circumstances? It most definitely had to have been his new acquaintance's kind nature. Lacriox had began to notice he was doing a large deal of talking, but speaking with the man who had paid him enough respect to listen thus far had become addictive. He continued: "Heavy as it may be, the weight of my shield could never outweigh the conscience of a regretful man. Mercy and compassion are far more often found within the enarms of a shield than at the tip of a lance. If you ever want to be infallible in judgement, always come to someone else's protection. A shield is never in the wrong place. No man does not deserve that right." Time flew as he ranted on. As he finished, he had realized he'd already returned with another armfull of flametoe root. Just how long had he been talking? "Ooch, I drifted from the point. I apologize, you are very easy to talk to. In short; I have a lot of history with this shield in particular, and it happens to fit in with my moral beliefs in regards to violence. Not that I haven't bashed a few heads before-- you get it." Lacriox stopped himself short before he began another verbal journey. The final batch of flametoe joined the second on Lacriox's shirt. The corners of the shirt tied together with a great deal of slack leftover. Lacriox was a fairly large man, and the size of his shirt reflected that. Into the bag the shirt went, tucked away with his cloak. Deciding it wouldn't be too uncivil to return to town without covering over his chest, Lacriox slung his bag over his shoulder, one again rough-handling the roots he had taken such care to collect. His shield lifted from the soil mold it had made from resting for so long and guided his hand through the enarms. "I hadn't counted, but I'm sure I'm carrying a respectable amount," Lacriox stated in respect to the roots. He let the meaningful silence fill the air as he raised both his eyebrows towards Squire Argall to politely indicate that he'd gathered all that he intended to collect for today.