22nd of Summer 518 AV
10th Bell
The broken man moved with a slight limp. Even though he had slept in a bed for the first time since he awoke under the crust of the earth, his body was still in poor health. His posture was slightly hunched with sloped shoulders and a hanging head. The large grey beast next to him walked along with short steps and stopped on occasion to compensate for its master’s irregular gait. That day when the sun first became a reality to the scarred warrior had introduced -or reintroduced- the notion of horses to the man. He was instantly fascinated by the magnificence of the graceful creatures. They were powerful, peaceful and possessed a level of intellect that could easily be seen if one stared into the large glassy eyes.
The map he’d been given upon arriving at Riverfall’s gates was a mystery at first but he slowly worked his way through it. Now, he stood upon the farside of the bridge from his place at the Cora apartments and looked ahead to the crossroads then checked with his map. He looked past the massive structure to his right, the map put a name to it, Gideon. The man with multicolored eyes suddenly thought this Gideon must be somebody important and made a note in his mind to not get on the wrong side of this fellow. In truth, he had no intention of getting on anyone’s bad side but he was not so naive to think that things always worked out. Even without his memories, life in the tunnels and caverns rarely went as planned. So he put one foot in front of the other and followed the main road. Once the line of site past the arena was cleared, his right side revealed the gates where he had entered days before. That was not the way to go.
The gold and blue gaze looked to the building opposite the gates and recognized it as the place he’d been shown which offered help to those looking for work. While making money was important, the recollectively challenged man was unsure as to what he would even say under skills. ‘I can survive in dark, smelly places and I don’t talk much.’ What sort of job would that land him? There was very little drive to walk through those doors but the scarred face took a second glance as he trudged through the junction. He knew there would come a day very soon when he would have to take a deep breath and force himself to apply for work.
Next on the path was a tower. People referred to it as the home of the Stormlord. Zulrav. Men talked of this god like he was someone that the scarred man should know; would have known. The tapered structure and its winding staircase made a heavy mass drop into the wanderer’s chest like a bag of rocks that caused him to sway on his feet. A whimper escaped the muzzle of the dog but the faithful companion pressed his big body into the weak leg of his master and the two leaned into one another until a stasis was reached. The amber and azure orbs flicked up and down the white stones several more times before he decided to move on towards his destination. The next building was what many referred to as a smithy. Armor, weapons and the like were crafted there; a residue of soot,smoke and heat lingered around the building like a shield that kept those away who didn’t wish to taste the glint of metal and sweat.
On the other side of the street was his destination; the stables which housed the horses in Riverfall. The building opened into a huge yard where several dozen horses of all sizes and coats dances, played and grazed. The sun bouncing off of hithers and rolling muscle reflected in the face of the man without a name. His pace quickened as he made his way over to the fence and when he got there, his arms folded over the top rail. The scarred face came down to rest on the tattooed arms as a pair of all black horses raced by without any concern for the spectator.
There was a span of time that passed before a woman came up on horseback and kept her mount off some fifteen feet while she stared at the man and his dog with the frosty eyes. The cobalt and maize eyes turned to her but repeatedly left her face to trail the progress of several of the great creatures as they chased one another around the open yard. When she spoke, he stared at her but only briefly as the weight of her stare was too much fo him.
“Are you Drykas, stranger?” Her hands bent into some symbols or signs...or a seizure. It could’ve been anything for the man didn’t recognize it. He did pick up on her words though and she spoke his language.
“I- don’t know.” He replied softly. His voice broke from sound to a crackling whisper. He fidgeted with his hands like he was fighting and urge to move them so he took them from the rail and turned the shaking digits and weathered skin to his dog. “Hey Storm. Easy. Easy.” He whispered to the dog. The canine seemed perfectly at home around the much larger animals, however- the words were more of a verbal self-assurance to himself than a command to his companion.
The woman tilted her head and rode her mount a bit closer. The saddle she rode was far different than the ones the knights used and her horse had a very different kind of look. “You have marks like a Drykas.... I should know.” She turned her steed around to show her opposite leg and pulled her skirt aside to reveal a braided row of ink intertwining itself around her calf and up inside the fabric beyond his vision. “Mind if I ask why you’re here?”
Now, the scars turned to face the woman. He knew why he was here and since it was the first thing he truly felt...actually believed...he spoke it clearly and with a hint of pride. “These animals make me feel something.”
10th Bell
The broken man moved with a slight limp. Even though he had slept in a bed for the first time since he awoke under the crust of the earth, his body was still in poor health. His posture was slightly hunched with sloped shoulders and a hanging head. The large grey beast next to him walked along with short steps and stopped on occasion to compensate for its master’s irregular gait. That day when the sun first became a reality to the scarred warrior had introduced -or reintroduced- the notion of horses to the man. He was instantly fascinated by the magnificence of the graceful creatures. They were powerful, peaceful and possessed a level of intellect that could easily be seen if one stared into the large glassy eyes.
The map he’d been given upon arriving at Riverfall’s gates was a mystery at first but he slowly worked his way through it. Now, he stood upon the farside of the bridge from his place at the Cora apartments and looked ahead to the crossroads then checked with his map. He looked past the massive structure to his right, the map put a name to it, Gideon. The man with multicolored eyes suddenly thought this Gideon must be somebody important and made a note in his mind to not get on the wrong side of this fellow. In truth, he had no intention of getting on anyone’s bad side but he was not so naive to think that things always worked out. Even without his memories, life in the tunnels and caverns rarely went as planned. So he put one foot in front of the other and followed the main road. Once the line of site past the arena was cleared, his right side revealed the gates where he had entered days before. That was not the way to go.
The gold and blue gaze looked to the building opposite the gates and recognized it as the place he’d been shown which offered help to those looking for work. While making money was important, the recollectively challenged man was unsure as to what he would even say under skills. ‘I can survive in dark, smelly places and I don’t talk much.’ What sort of job would that land him? There was very little drive to walk through those doors but the scarred face took a second glance as he trudged through the junction. He knew there would come a day very soon when he would have to take a deep breath and force himself to apply for work.
Next on the path was a tower. People referred to it as the home of the Stormlord. Zulrav. Men talked of this god like he was someone that the scarred man should know; would have known. The tapered structure and its winding staircase made a heavy mass drop into the wanderer’s chest like a bag of rocks that caused him to sway on his feet. A whimper escaped the muzzle of the dog but the faithful companion pressed his big body into the weak leg of his master and the two leaned into one another until a stasis was reached. The amber and azure orbs flicked up and down the white stones several more times before he decided to move on towards his destination. The next building was what many referred to as a smithy. Armor, weapons and the like were crafted there; a residue of soot,smoke and heat lingered around the building like a shield that kept those away who didn’t wish to taste the glint of metal and sweat.
On the other side of the street was his destination; the stables which housed the horses in Riverfall. The building opened into a huge yard where several dozen horses of all sizes and coats dances, played and grazed. The sun bouncing off of hithers and rolling muscle reflected in the face of the man without a name. His pace quickened as he made his way over to the fence and when he got there, his arms folded over the top rail. The scarred face came down to rest on the tattooed arms as a pair of all black horses raced by without any concern for the spectator.
There was a span of time that passed before a woman came up on horseback and kept her mount off some fifteen feet while she stared at the man and his dog with the frosty eyes. The cobalt and maize eyes turned to her but repeatedly left her face to trail the progress of several of the great creatures as they chased one another around the open yard. When she spoke, he stared at her but only briefly as the weight of her stare was too much fo him.
“Are you Drykas, stranger?” Her hands bent into some symbols or signs...or a seizure. It could’ve been anything for the man didn’t recognize it. He did pick up on her words though and she spoke his language.
“I- don’t know.” He replied softly. His voice broke from sound to a crackling whisper. He fidgeted with his hands like he was fighting and urge to move them so he took them from the rail and turned the shaking digits and weathered skin to his dog. “Hey Storm. Easy. Easy.” He whispered to the dog. The canine seemed perfectly at home around the much larger animals, however- the words were more of a verbal self-assurance to himself than a command to his companion.
The woman tilted her head and rode her mount a bit closer. The saddle she rode was far different than the ones the knights used and her horse had a very different kind of look. “You have marks like a Drykas.... I should know.” She turned her steed around to show her opposite leg and pulled her skirt aside to reveal a braided row of ink intertwining itself around her calf and up inside the fabric beyond his vision. “Mind if I ask why you’re here?”
Now, the scars turned to face the woman. He knew why he was here and since it was the first thing he truly felt...actually believed...he spoke it clearly and with a hint of pride. “These animals make me feel something.”