Open [Bronze Woods] Looks Aren't Everything.

[Archailist]

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

18th of Winter, 514.

"I'm just saying, you should be thankful that you're not under the command of Ser Titus." The squirrel, who'd paused in his erratic leaps between the naked branches high above, nodded. In truth, he wasn't listening to a word that came from the hulking Akalak's mouth as he drawled on yet more uninteresting shyke in a crude attempt to break the silence of their monotonous patrol. The same thing always happened and it wasn't surprising in the least, but the squirrel still had his hopes up. One day, he'd be the one co-ordinating the patrols and marking out the new locations to scout. One day...

When he eventually came back to the land of the living, Ser Iros had pushed ahead unannounced and nearly completely disappeared from sight. That was a feat in itself, since it was pretty hard to not see the armored Akalak with dark crimson skin and muscles that bulged to the point that one could quite clearly see them under the thick plate-mail. Not to mention the war-horse between his legs. Or the massive ten-foot spear or tower shield strapped to his back. His presence couldn't be more announced if he had a giant, glowing sign above his head granted by Priskil herself, shining with all her radiance.

Arch needed to pick up the pace, but the Py-Pole stuck to his back was weighing him down and limiting his maneuvering. Why couldn't I bring a smaller weapon? Something lighter? Nooo, out of everything, it had to be the largest one of them all. For all his internal grumbling, the thing was pretty useful in and out of combat. Not when he was in a tree, but that was beside the point. He had better things to think about. The thick snow blanketing a lot of the trees as well as the ground below made it a little more difficult than usual to get about any way. His little paws kept slipping over their attempts to grab branches - not to mention that snow kept drifting down from above, blocking his view.

The branch he'd been happy to simply wander along at a pretty relaxed pace soon became a launching pad as he reached the end, causing the branch to bend under his rather disproportionate weight, before he bounced straight off and up to a higher branch on the next tree over. From there, the next tree higher still, and so on. Moving between the trees of the Bronze Woods, from his time at both a young age and an older squirrel, was about as second-nature as one could get by now. Even passing briefly through the passage between the Avitar River and the Sukina Geysers brought back far too many memories of the place. The places that he'd nearly been shot down by hunters mistaking his hairless, malformed little body for an actual squirrel - worse still, where he'd met terrible Balicani and Yukmen.

"Squire Archailist! Hurry up!" The sound of the man roaring up ahead made the squirrel want to roll his eyes.. only he technically didn't have eye sockets, or eye balls, or pupils. Instead, he managed little more than a defeated sigh as he leaned forwards and ducked down to all-fours in the hopes of increasing his pace. The sooner he got back to Ser Iros, the sooner he could begin once again lecturing the responsibilities of the Knights, and the sooner they could finish the patrol, go home, relax and eventually sleep. Not long now, and I won't have to deal with your shyke any more. A little longer still, and you'll have to deal with mine.

[Clemens Kos]

Quite cold, this winter evening was. Enough for the tip of the man's nose to feel somewhat numb and unresponsive. Each breath that came filtered through his leather mask that kept the bottom half of his face hidden, created small white clouds of air. His fingertips felt numb as well, even through the padded right leather glove, and the plated left one. His figure was somewhat shuddering, almost as if the thin layer of snow on his thick fur coat didn't help at keeping himself warm. The snow shoes he bought a while ago were the only thing helping him not step on the wrong spot, and losing his footing - evening if it meant leaving a bigger footprint behind. This wilderness outside the city was harsh. He needed all the training wheels he could get. Each step he took, was careful, and patient. Having no need to rush somewhere, he walked across the more worn-out road, in the direction of the city he disliked so much. The halberd on his back, being strapped to his person with two simple leather belts, was starting to gather snow on it's top, pointy end. It seemed somewhat heavy, but nothing out of the ordinary as two handed weapon went. Recently sharpened, but not made from any special ore or the kind. However, he was proud on the weapon he had. After all, he did craft it himself. Or well, partially, he crafted it himself. The human liked the weapon far more, than the one strapped on his waist. The small dagger that looked like it was ready to be lunged at someone's unexpected back. After all, the whole appereance he gave off was somewhat shady. His messy, black hair covering most of the left side of his face, even his eye and ear. The right side being completely shaved. Tall, yet somehow hunched over due to the weight he was carrying with him, the one dark green eye that was revealed, kept a careful focus on the road ahead. He did came to a stop, as he heard something shift in the snow-covered bush to his left. After all, he did come here to hunt. Yet the white furred fox, or what it seemed to be a fox, was faster than he could be. His legs bending slightly, as he slowly crouched down, before leaping at the small animal that was simply taking a walk. The masked man would blame the additional weight on his back, or the concealed left plate arm he wore, for the failed leap. But he traveled too slow to catch the slippery little animal. He fell face-first into the snow, hitting the twigs of the snow covered bush, and almost was able to hear the small, yet quick steps of the animal that retreated deeper into the forest. The forest it was getting too late to follow. With an annoyed, grumpy tone, he spoke out - maybe even a bit too loud. "I'm going to murder him!" As he pulled his face out of the snow, and rubbing his leather glove over his face to get the snow off. Stading up, hunched over as he did, he looked in the direction of the tiny footprints that the fox left behind. Shaking his head to get some more snow put of his hair, he released yet another sigh. Unaware of his immediate surroundings, he needed a moment to get over the sudden shock the cold gave him. Making a mental note that it probably isn't the brighest idea for someone to jump head first into the snow. He felt a simple, yet somewhat stinging pain on his cheek. Aparantly, he scratched himself with the bush the fox was hidding behind, and he didn't even notice it until now. It wasn't a big cut or anyhing, but big enough to produce a drop of blood, or two...that much like a tear trailed over his cheek, and fell on the cold white ground.

[Archailist]

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

The day was pretty peaceful - or at least, it had been. Not many people were happy to try and brave the cold for little more than scraps hidden under the snow. Fewer still were silly enough to actually bother travel through the Cobalt Mountains beyond the castle, or the Wildlands that lay beyond. Yet, suddenly, a call rung out - barely audible, true, but just loud enough to draw Ser Iros to a sudden halt. Arch quickly caught up and slid into place on a lower branch hovering a few feet away. "What's up?" The knight lifted a hand with a single finger raised to his own lips, damning the squirrel to a chime of utter silence as they listened to little more than the calm breeze.

"Go up into the trees, scout ahead. Tell me if you see anything." That was all the instruction given and needed. As much as the two didn't like each-other, and didn't really work well together when needed for complicated tasks, they both knew that their bickering could easily cost lives. It already had. Neither of them wanted it to happen again. As much as Arch hated the fact that he didn't even know what he was looking for, he had to accept it and turn his back on the Akalak to begin a long ascent through the tree once again. The spindly branches threatened to break under his weight with every step; the higher he went, the farther he'd fall.

Iros, meanwhile, nudged the destrier underneath with his knees while pulling the shield and spear from their respective places at his back. He might need them before the day was done, although who and what he'd be going against was yet to be seen. Sounded like a murderer. Maybe he was being quick to draw, but there were times when it was needed. It wasn't like the big guy could actually sneak up on anything. That was the job of the squirrel. Instead, the Akalak pushed the horse forwards at a faster pace, ramming straight through the lower branches in his path without any worry, leaving plenty of commotion ringing out through the otherwise peaceful forest. "I swear to Sylir, I've had enough with these damn shyke-heads." The Akalak wasn't quiet in voicing his frustration - he didn't care whether or not the potential murderer heard.

He had faith Arch would catch up. Iros had a bad habit of misplacing his faith, though. The squirrel took his damn sweet time reaching the top of the tree and, even from there, he couldn't see much. Maybe if I knew what I was looking for... he grumbled internally.

[Clemens Kos]

His cloak didn't offer the perfect protection against this kind of weather to begin with, and with himself being stretched in the snow, it caused the white cold substance to enter through the cracks of his clothing. He felt cold around his wrists, around his ankles, waist, neck. Probably the worst feeling by far, however, would be the snow that got behind his shirt, and onto the back. Made his hair stand up and shudder, as if he needed more fuel to begin with. His one revealed eye glaring in the direction the little fox ran to, with the small poodle of blood underneath him now turning slightly more bright in color. The cut, which traveled from his ear to just slighty underneath his right lip corner, simply revealed a soft, albeit somewhat stinging pain. He knew it will heal, but the fact he got it simply caused it to feel like an even bigger disapointment and insult to his already escaped evening dinner. His plated right hand was raised, beggining to pat himself down, causing various bits of snow to fall off - after all, he didn't want to look like a snowman. Even though, at that moment in time, he thought to himself having a somewhat disquised appereance might help fool some wildlife into getting closer. 'Should of brought the traps with me...' He silently lammented. He didn't know he would be out until this late, so he left most of his possessions in the room he was staying at. He wanted to get back on the road, and continue his trip to the city walls, yet he didn't get to move much, before he heard a horribly loud and odd sound of wines breaking, and twigs shuffling in the not that distant direction. The strength and the apparant speed made it obvious it wasn't a fox, then that fragile little animal didn't have the brute mass to produce such destruction. Was it a bear? That's hard to believe, seeing as he was told most bears are alseep during winter. He didn't want to get trampled by the raging shroud that was coming next to him, which made him remember something. He just yelled out, out of frustration towards the fox. Did he just give out his position to some bandits? Slavers?! That last thought made his blood boil. With a clean motion from his left arm, he grapped the shaft of the halberd he had on him, beginning it to pull it from the straps. The complete weapon did look somewhat bigger than him, but that was mainly due to the big and slender spike on the top of it. The bladed portion of his weapon looked much more like a axe's head, and as he got into a stance that blade was pointing down, on the ground. The spike was directed in the direction of the raging 'something' that was getting more and more closer. "Not going back..." He spoke, his lips moving, yet barely any voice came from him. Having more than simple bad memories with these woods already, he was beyond simply paranoid. Both of his hands squeezed around the shaft as he stood there, with only the right pinky finger not wrapped around it. It might of be seen as odd and really uncomfortable, but that would be if one had a finger there to begin with. In times like that, however, that was the last problem he had on his mind. His plated arm, with his left shoulder and the vambraces he wore, were turned outside more, revealing the side to the unknown attacker. He knew the armor he wore could take a sword slash or two, and he thought that simply because he was wearing it underneath his cloak, that it might maybe serve this as a little surprise. A surprise he did hear, though. As the knight got closer to him, the human could hear the hooves. And no wild horse would be rampaging through this woods on it's own. Someone was coming for him. Again. He took a single deep breath, as he tried to focus.

[Archailist]

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

A glint, a shine and, suddenly, the squirrel was looping through the thin branches as fast as his stubby limbs would carry him.. which was, as it turned out, rather fast. Clay shifted around his body, pushing into each arm to extend it just enough to reach the next branch before retracting again - body twisting nimbly to maintain momentum. It wasn't just the reflection of light in a puddle of water, or from the thick snow.. this was a flash of metal being drawn. A damn big one too, as he drew closer and stopped with a resounding thump directly above the man. Armed. Armored. Looks like a fun day. He could only guess this would be the 'trouble', and immediately swooped down from the branches above to try and land himself right on the man's shoulder.. which was sure to cause a good deal of soreness.. while pulling his own pole from its place at his back.

"You're dead meat." If someone was going to draw a weapon on the knight, well, they were a threat and worthy of every insult in the squirrel's vocabulary as far as he was concerned. Just the right timing too, as the Akalak slowly emerged from the thin scattering of snow-covered bushes to glare down at the sorry excuse for a criminal, and the weapon he carried. A halberd, a spear and a Py-Pole.. well, there really weren't many funny coincidences that came by in Arch's lifetime, but this was one of them. If not for the dark tone that overshadowed the scene, he probably would have started laughing.

"Who are you. What are you doing here. Explain, now." The Akalak cut straight to the chase, but was already looking around for the potential victim. Instead, all he found was a small scattering of blood in the far corner, that he pointed to with the sharpened tip of his spear while still looking to the man. "What's this? Who have you been bleeding with this weapon of yours?" He wasn't even leaving time for answers, how quickly he cycled through various questions on pretty much anything that came to mind. "Are you alone? Why are you out here, huh? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't haul your arse back to Stormhold right now and throw you in the Tank."

[Clemens Kos]

Braced for impact. He heard the tremors getting closer and closer, his grip around his halberd tightening significantly. Tense like that, and focused on what's happening right infront of him made him neglect the happenings around him. Or well, above him. Even if he heard the sudden odd thud above him, he gave no reaction to it. Somewhat weak in his knees, the half haired masked human stood his ground. His right foot being pushed a bit behid him, with his weight resting on his right knee, trying to remove the odd feeling of weakness and fear that was creeping to the back of his head. Memories of old were recalled. Memories that happened somewhere around here. Steps, then a bag over his head. Then a stinging pain to the side of his head. He woke up in chains the day after - and his little story began. But he wasn't going to let that happen again. He'd do whatever is in his power to at least put up a fight. Even if the sky itself would fall down on him at this very moment, he would stand his grou-... His vindictive thoughts were cut short by a sudden sharp pain in his unarmored right shoulder. He felt like something bashed him with a blunt object, and that caused him to lose grip of his weapon for a moment, desperetly trying to keep balance, as his whole body began to push itself on the ground. His footing remained, yet the stance he tried to careful to look intimidating in was broken, and the man muttered out various curse words, all muffed underneath the mask he wore and thus inaudible to his sudden attacker. As his free right eye looked to the right, onto his shoulder - his eyes went wide. It wasn't the sky that fell down onto him, nor was it a rock, or a branch, or an arrow. Was that a...Is that a squirrel made out of clay? Drawing a weapon at him? That suddenly fell from the sky? 'What the...What is happening?' Was the next thing he could think off, as hide wide eye furrowed an eyebrow at the pole the thing on his shoulder drew. The point of impact still hurt, but he tried to ignore the pain till now. Being so close, the squirrel could easily see the cut on his cheek, which bleeding came to a stop by the time they caught with him. "You're dead meat." Echoed inside his head, as he he tried to open his lips to speak. He didn't know what he could expect, or how he should react. A squirrel did just threatened him. With a weapon drawn, no less. "I..." He tried to start, but was interupted by the source of all the ruckus infront of him. A knight? A knight with a seriously dead expression on his face. On top of a horse, shouting demandingly at him. The man suddenly lost his ability to speak, as the masked mouth of his was simply left halfway open. Suddendly, he dropped his halberd, not wanting to be the one pointing a weapon at a knight. Not at all. His hands were lifted up, causing the armored left arm to cling and clang with every motion. His gesture was made to simply show he wasn't going to offer any resistance. Not with his halberd, and not with the dagger he had on his hip. He was ready to fight for his life if a slaver came around, but a knight? He had the power to throw him in jail, and then execute him for looking at him funny. He tried to answer the armored beacon of law and order. He really did. But every time he tried to offer a reply, he was barraged with more questions. Not to mention the person on his shoulder, that needed only an inch to get rid of his good revealed eye. 'Who am I? What is what? Bleeding weapon? The Tank?' His mind repeated the knight's words, yet that didn't offer any more explanation. Did he hurt someone? Well he tried hunting a fox, but wild life didn't belong to the knights. The hunters were free to hunt, as their name suggests. "I..." He began again, yet nothing really came out. His shoulder ached due to the little man-drop, and as he looked at his weapon, it was suddenly several inches under the white fresh snow. "I...am a hunter." He began. He decided to leave the other two proffesions out of the picture, because one wouldn't help him one bit in this situation. "I tried to catch...a fox. But...But it got away." He finally bluttered out. Yet his voice was somewhat shaky, and adding to that he was still wearing a mask. There was a chance the knight didn't understand him. "H-hunting a fox." He repeated himself, hoping that his voice wouldn't break. "My weapon...I thought slavers." He began, but quickly silenced himself as he looked on the ground, averting his gaze from the knight and his squire. This was too much for him. He felt humiliated. Again. "I didn't do anything! I swear!" He suddently spoke out, louder as before. His whole body shuddering for a moment. He didn't want to go with knight into prison. Or on any hearings. Or anywhere, really. He never got along with the knights, and there was this horrible feeling that came over the human, that no matter what he said, the knight can and probably will have his way. "Hunting...Fox..." Then again, a mask, blood, a weapon and someone who can't explain what he was doing didn't exactly spell out good news for Kos, no matter how you looked at it.

[Archailist]

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

The squirrel had a pretty decent hold of himself on the man's shoulder, but the sudden movement nearly tossed him off entirely. Mercifully, he had his weapon ready just in case their murderer attempted to shrug off the knights and escape. As he toppled back, the shaft of the long pole slid down and across his throat, to drag him down onto his back with the squirrel. When he landed, the squirrel slipped back onto his feet immediately and raised the spear again, with the point facing the masked criminal. "HEY! You try some shyke like that again and I won't be held responsible for what happens next!" He needed to remain assertive, but the armored knight just a few paces behind raised a hand and the squirrel backed off, the sharpened metal tip still aimed for the man.

For the man's terrible excuse and explanation, they remained silent. Iros actually listened, for once, although it wasn't because he'd suddenly remembered how to be polite or because he really cared what the masked man had to say. No murderer spoke with such a terrible stutter in their voice, and neither could they be so timid as he seemed. For how bad he looked.. he really didn't seem so bad. Probably the biggest part of his story that spoke his innocence was the fact that there wasn't a body.. just a tiny little puddle in the far corner. Nowhere near enough to be from an actual dead body. Even a cursory glance should have found more.

There was more, though. "Hunting. You were hunting, in winter; when all the animals are hibernating, or burying themselves underneath the snow?" True enough, there were far and few animals that remained out during the winter... but surely there weren't enough for a damn hunter to make ends meet with? Maybe the man had it wrong.. but it sounded very suspicious indeed. "You shouted.. at a fox.. that you were going to kill it?" The Akalak gently nudged the horse into a trot towards Clemens, spear pointed straight for his head and the shield towering gloriously over the other side of the horse. Less of a shield, more like he'd made a door out of metal and attached a little handle to the middle. It was smaller than the Akalak, but stood higher than an average human from bottom to top.

"I don't have time to debate the meaning of life. So, tell me, now. Why should I believe you?" The big question. Goodness knew how many other vagabonds could be hiding out and around the forest willing to spout their whole sop story about how they were casually walking in the woods and just happened to come across a dead body.. taking him back to the Tank would just mean that they'd be forced to cut their patrol short, and they'd have to go through even more work walking all the way back to the castle, and then back into the forest again. The squirrel, who'd remained pretty silent so far, finally chose to speak up though.

"I dunno. He doesn't sound like a murderer, if that's what you think he is." The squirrel made a light little jab with his pole. "Might be telling the truth here, never know."

[Clemens Kos]

Just had his day turning from bad to worse. Not only was he somewhat taller than the odd armed squirel on his shoulder, but said animal managed to find a way to bring the masked man down. Feeling the pole around his throat, and the already weak knees he was having, it didn't take a long while to be actually pulled down, and his somewhat tall body began to fall like a fallen tree that was axed a few times. The time it took for him to drop down on the white bed behind him was filled with several loose thoughts. The most random one of them would probably be the hope of not landing on a shrub like he did a moment ago. His cheek was still somewhat aching, even though the cold already numbed his senses in a really bad way. His hands began to flail, once he realized that he was on the brink of colliding with the ground, and his good right eye even got closed as he braced for impact. Luckily, however, there were no hidden bushes, or rocks, or sleeping bandits hidden, so once he landed it felt surprisingly soft and dared he think, fun. The blow was completely negated by the fluffy structure of the crystalized water. In any other circumstance, the more childish part of him that was usually simply hidden away would produce a chuckle. The idea of starting to move his hands up and down the snow to leave an imprint did cross his mind. Then again, it was quickly shattered when the spear of the pycon was pointed at him. The sudden realization that he wasn't a little kid anymore, and could easily die in any moments notice. That sure did ruin his mood completely. The squirrel even spoke again. So he wasn't imagining it. The animal HAS a weapon and it's speaking. It's even threatening him. Surely he didn't drink anything today, so this shouldn't be an illusion. He even felt pain before, so it wasn't a dream either. Or so he thought. Surely it would explain a lot if this would be a dream. For some reason or the next, however, Clemens felt really aggravated by the talking puff of fur. It spoke so high and mighty for something so little. Spoke like it's better than him in every way. "Your own damn fault!" His mind yelled out. Not that he was in any position to speak such words out loud. His green eye finally openned up, curiously watching the approaching knight. He tried his best to ignore the spear pointed right at him, and he tried not to think about how strong the squirrel can thrust, and if this close, the spear could tear through his mask and stab him in the mouth. He tried... But the thought did cross him. The same thought somewhat removed, once the clay-clad animal moved off him. Even though that caused the bigger, much more commanding knight to come closer. Once again, a spear was pointed at his face. this really wasn't his day. "The fox...It got away. I was simply...angry at it. Got me hurt. Then got away. Third time that I'll be coming back empty handed." The man began to spoke. Even though his voice was still shaking, he tried his best to sound...well, not like he really felt. He disliked this feeling of weakness which followed him through every aspect of his life, and how he always had to have someone that was abusing him. Be it mentally or physically. He simply wanted to seen as equal, but obviously that'd be in no way happening with a knight. They're rulling the city and their word can and is law. A man could dream, at least. "I didn't know...a-anyone was around, Sir. I simply vented." He knew his explanation wasn't good enough, but that's all he could speak. He could try setting up an elaborate and belivable lie that would leave the knight stunned and the squire amazed, but honestly he was never good with words. And apparantly neither was he hood in actions. 'Father would be ashamed to see me, now.' Suddenly, a stinging pain entered his head. He heard stories about how richeous and what a pillar of might the knights are. Surely if he would be alive this would of never happened. If he were alive he'd get his son out of trouble, and explain that it was simply hunting. He'd simply walk up and speak in his loud, deep tone that he knew from the past. He would...Yes, maybe he would. But he wont. He can''t. Not anymore, at least. Couldn't for a while, even. His green eyes suddenly lost it's gleam and color. He seemed saddened. Probably because the knight above him said he's thinking about killing him. "It's up to you...If you believe me or not. I doubt anything I say would change your mind, even if I tried. The knights...Well they usually pass judgement like this. I was never good with words..." The masked man spoke, releasing a sigh as he averted his gaze once again. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to prove everyone else wrong. He could become something good. Something better. With that determination, he forced himself to quickly look back at the knight, imagining the spear away. Imagining the shield and horse away. Imagining him not lying down there like a little silly child. In his mind, he saw himself as an equal, standing, and looking at the knight. "I haven't killed a man in my life. Deers, foxes, wolves...Maybe. But that was a neccesety. After all, I wish to survive." That was the last thing he decided to speak out, after thinking about it for a while, or two. Of course what he said was true, meaning so for both things said. Even if he tried to sell the knight a colorful story and said story would be completely true, if he chose not to believe it there would be no hope for him. Here, at least he tried to be as short as possible. Didn't help that his heart was pounding against the clothing he wore, and his breath oddly sharp and short, as if trying to get as much air into him before the spear was lunged at him. So much for the proud hunter and his stance on fighting till the bitter death. A disapointment.

[Archailist]

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

More thought came as the man explained himself, and the two who would judge his life listened quietly. Even once he was finished, a long pause stretched out over the forest as Arch shared a glance with Iros. "I think he's telling the truth." The Py-Pole was finally lifted and hung at the squirrel's side with the butt pressed down into the snow. The story was clean, even if the man wasn't. "Guilty man rarely have the guts to speak up for themselves like that.. besides, not a body to be seen around here or anything of the sort." Iros mulled over the words for a few moments more, before finally sighing and abruptly raising the spear, twisting it around until the butt faced Clemens instead.

"Come on, up you get." He was offering to help the man back to his feet. "Suppose the least we can do is escort you back to Stormhold. Far too dangerous out here for anyone to be traveling alone, you know. We won't find your body until the spring heat melts all the snow again if anything happens to you." In fact, just a lone knight backed by a squire was pushing the limits pretty hard. They were at least armed with more than a halberd though. A halberd now completely invisible under the pretty thick blanket of snow, too. "You'd be lucky if you found a fox again, let alone if you actually managed to kill it. Should have come up with a better plan, or just saved up for the Winter season like everyone else, y'know."

Arch couldn't help a little quip right in the middle. "Yeah, because that mask isn't going to do you any favors, y'know." He didn't care what deformity the man was trying to hide, that stuff just made it look a whole lot worse. Like some evil villain from a children's fairy tale or something like that. "Makes you look like you belong in a cage or something." Then again, at least it'd scare off any bandits thinking they could have a shot. The leather mask and half-plate just looked plain menacing, especially with some concealed under the winter coat. Almost made the squirrel remember just how naked he was, all of the time. Not even a single article of clothing to his name.. nor a piece of armor.

"Anyway, enough of that." With one free, armored hand the Akalak gestured to the small squirrel standing in the snow. "This is Squire Archailist, and I am Ser Iros. Pleasure to meet you." He couldn't really bow from the back of a horse, but he made a small nod of his head, which Archailist quickly imitated as well. "Now, come on, tell us your name." Maybe if they knew it, they wouldn't be so quick to try and stab him if they ever met up a second time.

[Clemens Kos]

It looked like they bought his story. As he hoped, seeing as there was no other possible way to explain. A long sigh escaped his lips, almost as if a heavy stone was pushed away from his heart. He felt lighter. But he didn't know if it was because of the fact that he got to live, or from the fact that finally, he wasn't been having a weapon pointed at his already mauled enough face. For a moment, the voices from the pycon and the knight turned a lot more silent, as he was actually smilling underneath his mask. Of course, no one would be able to see that, as even his cheek motions weren't all that visible, but he was smiling none the less. The first time he stood up for himself, and it actually got him somewhere. He prevented his death by not giving up. Maybe he couldn't of fought his way out, but he tried his best. Of course it was less of Clemens' words, and more about the fact the knight and his squire were thinking and looking around, but at least he felt like he helped in a way. Be it as it was, his little daydreaming was interupted quite quickly as the knight got close enough to him once more, offering his spear to him. He nodded, not feeling like keeping his clothing wet for any more than the neccesary was...well, neccesary. Both of his hands were extended, going to wrap around the shaft of the offered butt of the weapon, his fingers weapping around the wood and pulling himself up. Seeing the attire the knight wore, it would be imposible to actually bulge him from his saddle even if he tried, apparantly not even noticing the masked man's weight as he finally got up to his feet. With a single bow of gratitude, he began dusting himself off, trying to get the snow off him to save what little of a dry feeling he could. Now, both of his boots held a firm grip on the surface underneath him, as he began to fix his attire. Reaching down to the snow infront of him, he began feeling for the metal he dropped, not really wanting to leave it behind. After all, it was the most expensive thing he currently held on him. After a few punches in the dark, his metal vambrace hit against it, releasing a thud as it collided with the wooden handle. Grabbing it tightly, he stood up with it, going to quickly put it back on his shoulder, between the two belts he had on his back. The last thing he wanted was to point his weapon at this knight again. He almost didn't believe he managed it the first time. "Thank you. I..I mean it. Really, thank you." The man spoke out, his one green eye looking at the knight, before shifting to the squirrel squire and repeating the words he spoke out. He heard the words that the pycon spoke, and if he wouldn't know better, he'd think that the squire actually stood up for him. Or at least, didn't go against him. Which was a victory enough in his eyes. Once he was re-armed, with his weapons sheeted and snow no longer covering most of his coat, the man brought his right hand up to his leather face, tapping it slightly to fix it's location, keeping his features hidden for the next few moments. "Yes...Sure. I would be grateful for the escort. It is already getting late, as well. I didn't plan on staying out this long. Hoped to catch something, however. I guess I should bring my traps with me, next time." His voice was somewhat calming down, the adrenalin that was pumping through him just a moment ago dying down. He could almost feel tired, even though he did nothing. Yet what followed after, suddenly sourned the mood of the masked human. "Makes you look like you belong in a cage or something." That series of words made deeper cuts that any blade did up until now. His eye widdening as he looked down at the pycon in an almost mortified expression. He probably didn't mean it that way, but it still hurt. All the memories from those three years surfacing. His teeth sinking inside the flesh of his lower lip, bitting down on the left corner of it. He tried his hardest not to show any other, perhaps more obvious reaction, but he did stay silent. Up until he felt an odd, warm and somewhat salty sensation against his tongue. He did bite hard enough to draw blood, and with that realization he quickly turned away, faking a pose where he kneeled down, and began to fiddle with his laces on his boots, as if to show they were undone from the fall, and all he was doing was to fix that. He needed a second to recollect himself, licking off the little triblets of blood before they'd pour underneath the mask he wore. Not a moment to soon, however, did he stand back up. The bigger knight began to introduce the two, and his eye, now forced to calm down, looked from one to the other, offering a polite bow to the both of them. "The...Yeah, the pleasure is all mine. I am sure. Squire Archailist. Ser Iros. Thank you again." After he spoke out, he began to lightly suck on the blood from his lip, to remove it from sight for just a moment. Before it began to pour out from the small wound he made himself, his right hand was brought up, unhooking the leather mask and pulling it down. His face didn't look any better than the rest of his ragged appereance. A nose that seemed broken several times over, cuts and bruises, yet a faked smile on his lips. He decided to at reveal himself to the two, if he was about to give a name. Easier for the two to recognise him, if they were to meet again. Not that it would be hard to miss a spectacle like that. After a moment, or two, he pulled the mask back up, because he felt the blood returning once more. Better to clean the mask later, than to answer any possible question regarding what happened to him. "Clemens. My name is Clemens Kos." The last part of his name was spoken simply because his father had the same name. Though the chances that anyone would remember were next to none, seeing as how he stopped to be several years ago.