A Wilderness Road Archive 1

Ralf was pleased that he was able to get the arrow out without much issue. He took a brief pause to look over the lady; she was thin and lithe, Ralf observed, and plainly dressed. Her yellowy eyes and white hair set upon a pale face was unique, and so it made Ralf curious as to why anyone would shoot her to begin with.

As the Varan warrior was tending to her wounds the lady reached over and grabbed the arrow. This prompted Ralf to cease what he was doing. He watched her break it in half and then heard her struggle to say "there's... silver."

Dread began to set in and filled Ralf until his heart was heavy. Was she some type of werewolf like himself? Is this why the silver concerned her? "By the Gods, no," he said under his breath. Unsure of what to do exactly Ralf would just finish tending to her wound.

"Oi, lass," he would begin to say, wrapping the lady in a fur cape, "I can't get the silver out of you... so I'll need to take you into the closest town or city. Aye? Are you okay with that?"

While waiting for her to answer Ralf stood up and began preparing his horse's saddle to make the midnight ride.

Ailin was cooperative, as far as being injured went, and so the Varan wasted little time in heaving her up onto his horse with himself. She sat in his lap, slumped over no doubt, but this was as comfortable as she would get. Ralf hung the fur cloak around himself and wrapped it around so as to cover the lady as well; this way both riders were kept warm in the chilly temperatures of the night.

Ralf abandoned all but the clothes he wore, his steel sword, his ancestral blade, and his Hirhanic shield. He rode south at a moderate pace; to fast and he may risk injuring the lady more.

"I know a place," he began to say, "where I have friends. The Brothers shall take care of you, I am sure."

<exit>

A falcon soared in the sky, but its flight was not a graceful thing, no -- it was choppy, unstable -- it was wounded.

The raptor soared toward a soft and quiet-looking spot beside the road, and before it hit the ground as its fragile bird body, it transformed into a woman clothed in leather and bloody and a wealth of loose, pale-gold hair.

She finished on her stomach, and groaned quietly to herself as she pushed up and flipped over onto her bottom. She was scratched up and bruised all over her face, and in some places, blades had managed to cut through the leather and leave her scarlet instead.

Pulling her dagger from its scabbard, the small but brilliant gemstones in its hilt flashed beneath the sunlight that spattered through the canopy above her, and with the blade glowing faintly green, she bit her lip and sliced herself again, right where she had before.

The Sparrow groaned quietly, but the wound in her leg healed as she lifted her blade, threading together with the magic of the item she carried. "Just another day..." she muttered to herself, and prepared to 'heal' herself for her other wounds.

Oh, she was keen enough!

Her thumb easily slipped past the green as she twisted, whipping herself around, blonde hair in a messy cascade of gold twirling around her head as the blade in her hand suddenly became so much as--

wind, blowing against the shrubs with the gale of a storm, a blow that ripped leaves from branches, and thinner branches from stems! It was more than enough to reveal who might be there to the now-grim-faced adventurer, and could easily knock someone onto their hiney who wasn't expecting it.

Her eyes narrowed as the bandits were revealed, yet before she could saw anything, there was a sharp stinging pain in her arm. Her gaze drew off the twosome that had garnered her full attention to look down at the dart sticking out from her arm, and she knew immediately what had happened.

"Damn," she said as she pulled the dart from her arm... and her eyes rolled back into her head before she fell limp in the small clearing just off the road, completely at the mercy of the bandits that had come upon her.

She was stripped of the necklace around her head, and the blade that had been in her hand. Her quiver was taken, her short sword as well, and even the plain ring around her finger was taken as well.

In her pockets they'd find a cloth domino mask, some vials of powder and herbs, and a firestarter. On her body she wore her leather armor, with her cloak still tied around her neck.

She had no money, only wounds that hadn't yet healed, and it seemed to be concentrated to one side of the young woman's frame. Her hands were tied, bound with magic, and she remained unconscious.

Into the wilderness rode several carriages and a small number of horses and their riders accompanying it. Two giants walked in stride next to the caravan, easily eight or nine feet in height carrying large pickaxes over their shoulders. Their skin was baked from long hours in the sun and they had great, long beards that hung in braids from their faces.

At the forefront of the convoy was a singular woman dressed in heavy furs, riding atop a short, but stocky warhorse. She was equipped with a bow and a quiver of arrows was slung from the saddle. Her name was Khulan.

She had quite a bit of company that had just joined the Toragana Caravan's travels in Isra. The Chesknight, a small fae warrior; Rudiger, a battle-worn mercenary; and Nettle, a small girl with rabbit ears who was special in very surprising ways.

Though she could always do with more, the leader was pleased with the company she now had, though it hardly showed on her face. The woman, as always, had a boulder for an expression and only interacted when she had something she needed to say.

This did not stop the rest of her company from interacting, however, and the lazy bard and the giants swiftly bombarded their company with questions about their person, their travels, their professions. The jewelers, the leatherworkers, and many of the merchants traveling with them beguiled them with knowledge of their wares and what to keep an eye out for, of deals they could give them and that their trip to the mine would be such a success for their business.

Rudiger focused mainly the road ahead of him, only replying to those who approached him first. It wasn't that he was purely anti-social, he just had a job to focus on, and that was to make sure they weren't ambushed. He wore his armor most of the day as he rode on Bob, only taking it off when they stopped for the night. And when they passed the occasional watering hole, where he could take a quick rinse, to get rid of the dust from the road and the sweat from wearing his armor all the time.

When merchants would ask him about prices, he would point them to other merchants, as he had no real idea. That wasn't his job. A couple of younger children couldn't help but to point and ask about the missing eye, which he spun a new story for every time, "Yes, I lost it when I fought a dragon. No, I didn't eat my greens, so it fell out one morning. I drank the devil's dew called hooch, and lost my eye on a bet."

When the bard would pester him about past exploits, Rudiger turned to the tactic of asking for royalties for every time his story was told. That quickly saw the bard to the far side of the caravan for a few hours, before he returned to see if Rudiger changed his tune. He didn't.

Nettle busies herself as she travels alongside the caravan, picking flowers from the side of the road and making coronets for the other children.

Her interactions with the merchants reveals a bizarre lack of any kind of understanding of how money works. Even for so young a child, there is a certain carelessness and openness in her answers. In much the same way, she seems to know very little about where she came from, where she has been, or why she is traveling. One thing that is certain, she cares an unreasonable amount about her mysterious father, and has every expectation to find him again soon.

As the new travelers appear, she seems bothered by the dog, her ears poking up in alarm. She ducks behind Rudy, peeking out with distrustful eyes.