His immediate work done, the newcomer addresses the party, "But let me begin at the beginning. My thanks for being permitted to aid you. My name is Rhees Ap'Mordin and, as you can probably tell, I am a stranger to these parts. The group I was traveling with was recently beset by creatures most foul and strange. To the best of my knowledge, I am the only survivor. I had been wandering these woods alone for four days until I met the centaur yesterday. While I have some talents that allowed me to survive, I must say, and I suspect you'll agree," he adds looking at the battleground which surrounds you, "That this is no place for a lone man to be wandering alone. If I may, I would ask your leave to travel with you for a time," Timid and exceedingly polite, Rhees looks to each of you, seeming as though he is physically working at maintaining a measure of pride.
Augustus returns sooner than expected from his prayers. Finding the newcomer, he approaches warily and speaks, "Thank you for helping them...and please know that you need not be concerned with the fact that I am a Catolik," Augustus absently rubs the hastily self-stitched wound on his cheek. "I am here because I believe that Jebohah has sent me to discover why the church has become...so evil," The priest offers Rhees his right hand in greeting. "Anyway, thank you again for helping them...they are my only friends."
Rhees takes Augustus' hand firmly, and his pale blue eyes meet the others earnestly, "You speak the right words. It is good to see a man value his friends, and to admit that those who have worshipped alongside you have done wrong - it is commendable. You will forgive me for being cautious, but let us agree to a truce, at least, for now. Perhaps if you teach me more of this Jerbohah I will not have to fear those who bear the Roman gallows as a religious symbol.
Augustus meets Rhees blue gaze with his own. "This I promise to you...You shall have no need to fear any treachery from me...I wear this cross as the symbol of Jebohah, (OOC-Augustus' regional pronunciation)...He is my God, and I will praise his name and do no harm by it, or my soul shall eternally burn at the feet of the adversary." Later, as the party is traveling back to Sukiskayn, Augustus rides up alongside of Rhees and says, "When there is more time, I will be happy to tell you about Jebohah and His love for all of His children."
"I am Rhune Morthaine. Welcome again. And thank you as well," Rhune says to the man, though this time in her French accented Italian. "Perhaps sometime you can tell me where you learned such formal use of my native elvish," she adds with a smile.
A tall and very young dark skinned turbaned Arab, with hawk like eyes and features turns to face the stranger, his black robes billowing in the wind. With twin scimitars, quiver and bow on his back he looks to the man with some interest.
"By Aten, what brings you upon our path efendi?"
Rhees pauses for a moment, mouthing the foreign words to himself. He replies with a half-smile, "To answer with certainty would be claiming to know the minds of the gods. I harbor no such pretension. However, if we share the road for a time, I am sure we will catch a glimpse of what the world intends for us. In the mean time, I have to admit, I am intrigued. 'Aten' and 'efendi'," he stumbles a little over the pronunciation, "what language do these words come from?"
Asif smiles.
"Aten is the solar disc Efendi which brings life to us all. (Asif gestures to the Sun). The language is that of the children of Aten who dwell in the holy city of Amnara in Egypt. Our language is similar and well understood by the followers of Mohammud, whose Arabic tongue and culture surround us on four sides. Its origins are different, our tongue is more closely related to the tongue of the ancients rather than that of Mohammad. Efendi is our word for friend. I hope this will be the case, for you too seem unlike our fellows. We both are strangers here!"
Rhees returns the smile, "How interesting, many of my own people, who are found far to the North of here also worship the solar disc, though they refer to him as Baal. We are strangers but it seems we already share something in common, Efendi," Rhees hesitates a little before continuing - making sure his usage is appropriate. "I have studieD many languages and am always keen to learn more, would you consider teaching me?"
Asif nods his head.
"You honor me much Efendi. It is good that the truth of Aten even though by another name, is found even here. It would please me much to teach you more of my tongue. The ways of my people is much missed, hearing my own tongue even by those learning soothes my homesickness. Also if you may tell me of this Baal."
As Rhees enters into conversation, you have an opportunity to notice his appearance further. Rhees is quite small - 5'7," or so (OOC: that would be 170 cm for those of you in metric lands Xania shrugs when he looks at her. "Can we get out of here now? Before they bring back their little friends to play? We've lost enough people to rescue some horses."
Rhune looks at him and then at each member of her party, "It would be nice to have another person who can use the healing arts. What do you think?" she asks her party members.
"Well, uh, I'm all for it," Forte responds, grinning. Turning to Rhees, he says simply, "Thank you," Later he thanks Augustus, but he doesn't want to disturb the priest's prayer.
"That's fine. Let's get moving," Xania responds, Noir moving restlessly under her. "Or he might be using them again when their friends get here."
"The dark-haired girl is right, however, we should quit this place. Even if those who fled do not return, the remains of battle always draw creatures looking for an easy meal. I do suggest we not head too far." He nods towards the prisoners, "Many here do not have mounts, and some of you are less strong now than when this battle began - it would be wise to rest. Besides, if we do not venture too far, it is not critical which direction we head in. We are a large group now, most residents of this forest will avoid us if we aren't in the midst of their dinner plans," Rhees grins, apparently quite at ease discussing wild animals tearing into the corpses left lying about.
"I am Xania Sqeulaiche," Xania replies with a voice colder than ice. "Now that you have a pretty introduction, may we move?" Fire flashes in her dark eyes.
"Though with the elegance of your beard, perhaps I should call you that red-headed boy."
"A pretty introduction indeed," Rhees smiles back, "However, if calling me boy will satisfy your honor, you may continue. And now, Xania Sqeulaiche, perhaps we younglings should set the example that will get the rest of these people moving - let's organize this rabble into a traveling party."
Despite herself, Xania almost smiles at the wordplay. "I am no youngling. I am 19."
"And still you ride like a young woman! At such an age, shouldn't you be living in a hut at the outskirts of town, tending to a score of cats and frightening little children with a snaggle-toothed grin," Rhees appears encouraged by the almost-smile. "Now be careful, if you lose that stern demeanor you'll never scare this lot into moving soon enough for your liking."
"They will ride or they will stay and die," Xania shrugs as if it concerns her not. "I do not like being told what to do. By man or beast," she adds, frowning as she thinks of the arrogant centaur.
Rhees may notice that for all her talk about not worshipping horses, she rides her own horse with a hackamore instead of a bit and bridle and that her touch on the reins is light--she uses her legs more to guide the horse where she wants to go and how fast she wishes the horse to move. That and the fact that Noir's coat is usually brushed to glossy perfection display her own caring for the beast, a magnificent dark bay stallion.
Ullar steps forward to Rhees as the last in the row.
"My name is Ullar Capachio, ex-gladiator and guard of the Mercurians."
"Nice meeting you," he says, shaking Rhees' hand.
Rhees returns the handshake warmly, though he isn't foolish enough to enter into a contest of grip strength, "It is a pleasure to meet a man of such heroic stature, Ullar Capachio. I myself am but a humble shield man. Perhaps if the earth lets us walk together for a time you would be good enough to assist me in my weapons training."
Ullar smiles but says nothing. "We'll see, humble shield man," he adds, with some sort of sarcasm in his voice, but his eyes are filled with joy.
Forte asks a less pained party member to retrieve the arrows and bolts used during the melee before they leave.
Augustus offers to gather the items for Forte...when he returns them, he says, "The next time I wade into the fray thinking I am some kind of warrior...remind me that I am not, alright?" He says this with a pained smile.
The archers are pleased to note that Augustus has gathered up replacement arrows for the ones that they have inevitably lost during the past weeks; human arrows, not the shoddily made goblin arrows some had been carrying about. While the arrows are not as fine as Asif's Egyptian or Rhune's elvish, they will do as substitutes.
Tag gratefully accepts the return of his crossbow bolt (only one having been fired) from Augustus, but notes that the bolt's shaft is cracked. It will not be useful to fire again, so Tag discards it. His wounds, though healed over have left him in shock at the frailty of his own mortality. He spends the trip in quiet contemplation of his relationship with God or 'the Gods'.
Noticing the urgency in Xania's voice, Forte turns to Ullar, "Can you help me up?" he asks, unsure if he can mount his warhorse in his current condition.
Dakath moves his horse next to the stranger, his head is clean shaven and he seems to have a tribal mark painted onto the side of his right cheek. Usually his face is open and friendly but right now he is eager to move on.
His right ear sports an archaic looking ear ring, his eyes regard you as he manages a smile, you get the impression that behind the friendly visage there is intelligence and a calculating nature. Resting across his lap is a wooden staff adorned with feathers and bones, he leans down from his horse, "Well met Stranger, I'm Dakath, now you'll excuse my abruptness but we can all get better acquainted as we ride, I don't think there'd be any objections for you to ride our fallen companion's horse."
Dakath looks around at the group, "Well when you've finished discussing the differences of faith and the joys of youth, I'm sure there are families that need uniting, perhaps these fascinating discussions be continued on the move?" he turns Stenu and moves off to the villagers to try and get them organized ready to move out.
Dakath turns to the others, "If there are no objections I suggest we travel south, the last direction Stephan was seen heading." He moves his horse alongside Xania's, "Are you alright? We'll leave now," he manages a slight smile.
Xania shrugs, seeming to be at a loss for words.
Augustus looks around at the bloody landscape. "Yes, that would be fine by me...I have seen enough blood for one day..," barely heard by those nearby, he mutters, "...for a lifetime, really."
"Ullar perhaps you'd be good enough to ride up front with Forte, while the rest of you take flanking positions and rear positions? I'll scout ahead so we don't encounter any trouble."
As he turns his horse ready to move out, he turns once to look at Xania, smiling weakly before moving ahead.
Xania merely frowns at him.
Ullar nods to Dakath's words. The warrior is silent once more, still unsure how to respond to his feelings of loss.
He pats his horse on the back and rides silently to Sukiskayn with the rest of the group.
With no overt objections from the rest of the group, proper respect is paid Leslie as everyone gets underway. The horses are quite willing to assist, and it is determined that you all will escort the imprisoned people to Sukiskayn (which, as near as you can tell, is the only homestead in the area still standing). While it will certainly tax the resources of the little outpost, you don't have any other clear ideas what to do with them.
Doubling up on each horse, you manage to get all of them onto the riding horses. Leslie's warhorse Zephyr carries two easily, though some of the injured animals are unable to bear more than one. Several of you are forced to double up as well. The centaur is able to bring up their spirits amazingly, though, and you still make a good pace out of there. Tag has to be mounted upon his horse by the others, though Forte manages to climb up himself.
Taglio gently talks to and pats the old dark mare he has been riding. "I see that I can ride thee now only because you wish it. I will no longer take thy comfort for granted as I did. Grazie,cavallo dell' amico. I will give the a name if it please thee. Perhaps Beatrice, for she was Dante's love and guide on his journey to heaven in the last chapter of his great masterpiece." He then accepts help mounting Beatrice from others, for especially his arm is very sore and stiff. "I fear my lute playing will be clumsy and without finesse until my arm has recovered."
During the journey back to Petr's village, Forte watches Xania ride. He hopes to learn more about horses from her; perhaps he can talk to her once they get back to the village.
Going back the way you came, within a few hours you have returned to Misha's Ferry, where you are interested to find that the Ferry is on the southern shore, though you are very sure that you left it on the northern (the Ferry side) shore when you departed this morning. It is a simple process to pull it back over, and you manage it quickly.
Ever paranoid, Dakath finds that there are some boot prints here, new ones, that were not here when you left, though he cannot tell of what type or how many. Knowing there is little you can do about it until you return the villagers, the long process of carting each group of horses and men begins. Almost two hours later, the process is complete. The centaur and his escorts do not follow you across the Ferry.
Following the path south, you see the sun dipping down in the western sky, peering through the continued heavy clouds. The drizzle, which has continued much of the day, begins to pick up into rain once again, promising a rough trip ahead. You approach the path intersection, one way leading east to Sukiskayn, the other south. It is some four miles from Sukiskayn, where Tag would be able to be treated by Mama Kuzma. Preparing to make that trip, Rhune notes something in the trees to the south. Yet another of the giant black bats flies quickly overhead, too quickly for anyone to act on it, and only Rhune even sees the creature dart into the trees.
"There goes one of those bats again. We had all better be very careful from here on out," she replies. "Could we stop for just a moment?," she asks, "I need to put my armor back on. With those bats around I feel kind of naked without it," she says not really wanting to put the armor back on, especially now that her tunic is wet again. She very quickly gets the chain armor back on and remounts, "Let's see if we can get to Sukiskayn quickly," she says as she keeps a wary eye and ear out for bats and anything else unusual.
Dakath turns to Rhune and smiles "Perhaps you could wait until we reach Sukiskayn ? We have to think about the villagers, waiting out here as the day passes puts us and them in danger."
Nonetheless, Rhune is already going through the motions, and the group halts briefly.
Xania looks around worriedly, "More bats? Where?," She seems jumpy. She looks at Rhune in disbelief as the elf calmly decides to put on her armor. She starts to say something, then bites her tongue and shakes her head.
Instead, she turns her horse and sets off toward Sukiskayn, eager to be in a building for a night before. Or perhaps just longing for a bath. Her eyes find Dakath's for a moment, and then she's off.
Taglio ducks reflexively as the bats fly overhead. "Dio, what are they? Surely the spawn of hell come to claim us?" He crosses himself, not for the first time today.
As a last effort to bolster his courage and ease some of the pains, he draws out a vintage bottle of wine from his pack and takes a swig. "Ahhh... not the best vintage I fear, but a fine drop of 3 year old Veronese chianti, never the less. Would anyone else like a drop? While my arm is too stiff for a song, and the women are all taken (he smiles in the direction of Rhune and Asif, toasting them with the bottle), wine will have to do, Si?"
"This rain will make the trail grow cold again will it not, wounded or no I would avenge Leslie if we may, andiamo (let's go)."
Rhune blushes at his words, still putting on her armor as she speaks, "No, thank you for the wine, Taglio. However, it might be wiser to speak in a lower tone of voice. More like a whisper," she says to him in a low tone of voice, a smile on her lips. Just as she finishes speaking she sneaks a glance at Asif.
"Rhune my love fear not the enjoyment of wine, for it is not something considered a sin amongst the people of Amnara. Grapes, Barley and other such products are part of the great bounty provided to us by Aten. We hold not true to our neighbor's superstitions against wine and beer. Mohammad's version of the truth is flawed. In light of the sensibilities of our neighbors we do not partake not of wine and beer openly, but on certain occasions it is enjoyed when it will not cause offense to them."
At Asif's words, Rhune's blush becomes even greater, "You miss understand. I have nothing against wine, mead, or ale. I love good wine and mead most," she says in a low voice. Then in a voice even lower so that only Asif hears, "My love?"
Asif makes a low bow in the saddle his hand leaving the reins to touch his heart. In a low nervous whisper he says:
"Our poor friend Leslie and I shared conversation the night before he died. Fear not he said the path revealed by one's heart. And so in is memory shall I follow his advice. I hope this does not displease you?"
Rhune's smile goes from ear to ear and her deep purple eyes, turn soft as they sparkle. She reaches out to cover Asif's hand over his heart. "It does not displease me, Asif. It makes me very happy," she says softly. She looks at him with a very pleased expression on her face for a few seconds and then on impulse leans over and kisses Asif lightly on the cheek. She then pulls back from and smiles again, "You can kiss me anytime you want to, if you wish," she whispers to him.
Asif eyes sparkle in the light, his heart skipping a beat. His dark skin unable to fully disguise the reddish hue spreading over his young face. Struggling to speak he finally stammers in a jumble mix of Italian and Arabic.
"My hati (Asif touches his heart) is tcheten, the heka of abeb is most strong between us. Aten's will is mysterious, in death can one find life. As one dies, another is born. As my hati mourns the death of one friend, it finds love in another. Aten's light reveals much... I unable to find right words, I find words lost to me. I feel it right to say, that I feel Aten knows fully of his lost son and the pain endured over the past year. He blesses me with your presence. I am a lucky man."
(Rhune recognizes a couple of words from the lessons) tcheten = fire, heka= magic.
"Yes. The ways of the gods are indeed mysterious. And if it were not for the life debt that my father owed I would not have met you, Asif. I may not have endured pain over the past year, and to some I may not seem to grieve but I do miss the friends and companions that we have lost one way or another over the past few weeks. I, too am lucky," she replies smiling at him, her words also a mix of Arabic and Italian though Asif will notice that her Arabic is actually getting quite good.
Asif leans over the saddle and brushes Rhune's shoulder lightly with his hand, pushing her hair away from her shoulder.
As he touches her shoulder and pushes her back a small thrill courses through her. She nuzzles her cheek against his hand.
"That shall please me much, happiness shall we hopefully find in this time of despair," Asif says.
"I hope we can find happiness as well. And it pleases me as well," Rhune says, her heart already lighter.
Ullar smiles when he silently overhears Asif and Rhune chat. "At least some people are feeling at ease in this situation," he murmurs to himself.
"Ah.. what a hectic period is this indeed," he mutters, while cleaning his sword. "And I've not even given you a name!" he says, gently stroking the sword which proved to be so useful to the ex-gladiator.
A brief gaze towards Asif doubles his smile, as he thinks that the young Arab would be a perfect match for Rhune.
Once Rhune is done she quickly remounts and nudges her horse to a canter, staying beside Asif as she does. She may not look it but if anyone were to look at her eyes they would see that, as she watches the surrounding area, they have a wary look about them.