PM to join No Good Steed Goes Unpunished (Ciraaci)

[Picatija]

Fall 5, 517 - Sunrise There were moans coming from the newest tent set up within Endrykas, away from any of the others, for it belonged to no Pavilion. Sweat glistened upon the small woman's bronzed skin, her blanket thrown off her nubile body as she writhed and whimpered. Her body was trying to break the fever brought on from the wound beneath the bandages of her thick left thigh. Syna was just beginning to crest over the rolling grasslands, the air still warm, though stagnant and damp within Picatija's tent. She'd just arrived in the tent city the night before, barely conscious, clinging to the back of Kiahara. She remembered the terrifying running birds. Tija had never seen such carnage. They absolutely ravaged everyone. Horses, men, women, children, food stores, everything was killed and destroyed. And she'd not gotten away by skill or prowess. No, she'd gotten lucky. A lot of it was a bloody blur. One of the birds with their strange beaks had gotten a gash carved into her leg. She remembered a man, though his name and face were eluding her. She remembered him being heroic, a leader, but in her delirium all else was lost. Tija's eyes barely fluttered open, her body covered in a flop sweat, yet she felt so cold. Her left leg was throbbing. The Chaktawe pulled herself up onto her elbows, looking down her form at the bandaged leg. She tried wriggling her webbed toes, thankful to see them moving, though she winced at the slightest motions. Seeing her clothes in a sloppy pile nearby, she pulled them on slowly, painfully. Her spear laid there by her bedroll as well. Gripping it, she pressed the butt into the dirt, and pulled herself upright, gasping at the shock of the pain shooting through her. All of her weight was on her good leg, but at least she was standing. She found herself wondering who set up her tent. Would it be that man that saved her? Slowly limping with her impromptu crutch, she slipped outside through the flaps, seeing that the darkness was fleeing across the sky. When she looked to the ground though, her stomach dropped. Her saddle and saddlebags were laying in the grass, but Kiahara was gone. Panic set in, and the woman's eyes darted around. She knew he would never leave her by choice, he was her best and only friend. She saw grass and tents everywhere, and a few people up and about, staring at the bedraggled woman. Tija truly was a sight, black eyes searching in a panic, hair sweat matted and wild, clothes dirty and askew, as she leaned heavily against her spear. She approached a nearby man, more of a boy really, nearly an adult. With her crazed look, she began shouting at him in Common, startling him, "Where Kiahara?! Where he?!" He shook his head feverishly, raising his hands in surrender, not able to help her. She looked around at the few others that were now coming out to stare at the scene she was making, not caring, "Where Kiahara?!"

[Maore]

A person would have to be supremely deaf to not hear the upset voice that shouted above the tumbling wind not far away, and fortunately enough, Ciraaci was not deaf. She was among the tents of non-Drykas, getting a feel for unfamiliar faces and offering the enticing lure of what the Drykas had to offer for those who wished to conform to their livelihoods.

She was drawn to the source of the shouting, understanding perhaps the barest amount of Common being thrown around, but nonetheless expecting the scene to be that of a woman finding her husband had taken a mistress from among their neighbours, or some other dramatic scene that could be played out. What she saw, then, as she rounded the strewn about tents of Endrykas visitors was that of an alien woman throwing angry words at a Drykas youth.

Ciraaci leaped forward immediately, coming to the defence of the Drykas youth, a mediocre practitioner of medicine who'd only come to help, to put an unwanted hand on the black-eyed woman and push her away. Foreign eyes blinked at the scene with baleful irritation or glimmering humour, and yet with her head crowned in a curling maze of glassy horns, Ciraaci matched them for their baleful anger, and levelled the brunt of it on this woman.

Not aware of who she was, what had brought her here, or even the wound upon her person that had put her in a heated delirium, the Ethaefal held her hand out, presenting a buffer between her and the youth. It didn't stop her from yelling at any of the others, but Ciraaci cared a great deal less about non-Drykas than she did about even a single boy. She understood nothing of the words she spat, and as Ciraaci let her vent out her frustrations, she patted the boy's arm behind her, to soothe his expression down from that of a frightened colt, and signed out the feeling help for him, in the hopes that, without the verbal context, he'd understand her to find someone from the Watch, and preferably someone that knew Common enough to speak to her and calm her down.

[Orakan]

Ciraaci

Skills

● Observation - 1XP
● Leadership - 1XP
● Intimidation - 1XP

Lores
● Intimidation: Standing your ground
● Leadership: Stepping in to diffuse a situation

Comments

Not much here, sorry! Gave what I could. Do let me know if you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade and don't forget to delete/edit your request in the grading queue.