OOCProvide the timestamp yourself. 35th of Spring It was a temperate windy day; the kind spring was usually filled with. The Sun was half asleep, tired after the drawn out fight it waged with the clouds for the better part of morning. It couldn’t have been more than three bells past noon as six blue warriors rode out of the city, stopping about a hundred yards away from the entrance gate. They were waiting for one other to join them, a young Drykas whom they known only by name to be Sama’el. Among the restless Akalak men, there was one that stood out as the leader of the pack; Morikal Kansvak. The great Nevar Chivan himself promised one hundred golden mizas to anyone who made it back from the mission. The promise of a ripe reward was enough to muster up the group that was waiting outside the city gates, however, what gave the young boy in command his position; was his well thought of lineage. Morikal’s grandfather, Morgatir, was watching over the group like a hawk; keeping his distance. It was a well known fact that the youngling wasn’t the most competent fighter or even rider he could be, still his self assured appearance covered it well. The goodbyes were long and silent as each of them looked in the opposite direction. One might have thought that they were looking at each other, but that would have been a false claim. Morikal was looking at the gates, remembering what he was fighting for, and Morgatir was looking out into the grass, remembering what he was praying for. When the Drykas finally came, he was just given a short nod as all of the riders casted off at an even pace. It wasn’t even a full chime of riding when another horse appeared on the horizon, quickly closing the distance with the rest of the riders. All of the Akalak drew out their weapons cautiously except Morikal. He was the grandson of the great warrior Morgatir Kansvak after all, close friend of the head of the council, it was unheard of for someone so influential to be trifled with easily. Maybe he was too confident for his own good when he ordered the other Akalak to sheathe their weapons, but the foreign rider still came in peace. Nodding his head to the newcomer, Morikal ordered in poorly spoken common: “Why you here?” The reply came quickly, and on the admiration of all the gathered blue men; it was in Tukant: “I am here under orders from my Ankal to assist you in your endeavor. My tasks are to help the young human with you to fix the web, as that is what we are all here for in the first place; and for better or for worse, I can act as a middle man between you as your knowledge of Common is quite flawed”. “Did you just dare mock me, human?!” Morikal shouted as he reached for his lakan. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you; you don’t want to disappoint grandpa after all, do you?” Just as the young Akalak reached for his lakan, an envelope was thrown in his face. Opening it crudely, the man read slowly, but after a couple of chimes he sheathed his sword back and hissed: “Fine, you can come with us!” And then just as everything seemed to settle, another sentence came from the stranger, this time in common: “Pardon me my lords, but it would be prudent if you would follow me. Wouldn’t want us to move in the wrong direction, now would you?” the rest of the group stared at the man questioningly, but when Morikal nodded silently, all cast their opinions aside and followed the man. After a couple of chimes spent riding in silence, the man would gesture Sama’el to come closer. Should the boy obey, he would hear an introduction quickly followed by questions. “Eh, my dear boy, you should call me Rheinval; unlike the blue skinned beasts around here, I actually like these little mannerisms. You are Sama’el I presume?” the man paused for a moment, but then just continued as if he already knew everything: “It is quite weird I know, but I was sent off after you in a hurry, so could you tell me who are you anyway? What is your clan?” the man acted friendly, not really caring much for the speed of his voice, as the words he mumbled could barely be recognized. Meanwhile in Riverfall “Are you absolutely sure?” Morgatir frowned as he pleaded with the shadow that was speaking to him in a lyrical voice. “On the holy life of mother Akajia I swear, Should I lie, turn me into a mare!” the shadow continued to weave pointless rhymes. “Fine I will trust you on this one, Lylek; thank you for your help” the man kept talking to the thing. “Hurry now and be forever told; Should a liar I be called… erhm… The end?” the shadow struggled with its poem. “I don’t have time for this right now!” Morgatir shouted as he quickly went for the door, attaching two lakans to his waist as he walked. Not even five chimes later he could have already be seen from the city gate as he was disappearing into the horizon, pushing his steed to the limits of the animal’s power. |