Closed A Horse Is A Horse, Of Course, Of Course [Dravite]

An unexpected move from Kenash to the plains leaves Kaitanu stranded and alone in the Sea of Grass.

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Not found on any map, Endrykas is a large migrating tent city wherein the horseclans of Cyphrus gather to trade and exchange information. [Lore]

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A Horse Is A Horse, Of Course, Of Course [Dravite]

Postby Kaitanu on September 14th, 2015, 10:07 pm

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Warm, bloodied fingers touched Kaitanu’s face, but he neither pulled back nor resisted the following examination. What surprised him was the relative lack of invasiveness on Dravite’s part. The Drykas seemed content with looking over his face only, before pulling back to examine him with a critical eye. What he was thinking Kaitanu couldn’t tell. Dravite looked neither pleased nor displeased, and the kelvic hadn’t learned to read him yet.

The uncle was another matter entirely. Kaitanu knew the mercenary gleam in his eyes all too well. This, coupled with the man’s appearance, which brought back memories of the past, came together to form an unpleasant whole in the kelvic’s mind. Of the two men he wished most to escape the uncle but had no power to do so. It was probable that both men were ready to sell him off, so he wouldn’t be seeing the uncle anymore anyway.

What Kaitanu could never have predicted, nor even envisioned, was that he would move so close to freedom in those next few moments. The two Drykas were arguing in a language he didn’t understand at all, though he could guess well enough what about. It was a matter of indifference to the slave whether he was kept or sold, since one master was like another. Except… except not quite. Edmund Morealis had been somewhat less violent. There was no getting back to him now, so Kaitanu might as well accept his fate. Horses only lived for about 25 to 30 years, or so he was told. He probably wouldn’t last even that long.

These thoughts were not so much interrupted as accompanied by what he could gather from Dravite and Raven’s argument. Kaitanu knew little of the outcome, except that the younger man had won whatever point he was making. It seemed he was in charge, so whatever happened to Kaitanu would be Dravite’s decision. Not knowing what that decision was, the slave thought it best to do what he could to please his new, if temporary, master. He kept his pale head bowed, almost in reverence- masters tended to like that sort of thing. In addition, Kaitanu made a point of gathering his scattered thoughts and focusing on every move the Drykas made. If he missed some command because he didn’t understand the language it would all be the worse for the slave.

For the moment, Dravite’s actions were more or less understandable. Humans tended to be squeamish about nudity, and Kaitanu didn’t yet understand Drykas culture. Therefore, when Dravite brought a tunic and had Kaitanu dress, the slave thought nothing out of the ordinary in this. Nor, upon reflection, did he think it odd that the man should give him honey for his wound. That would keep him from bleeding all over the tunic, which would likely be given back when Kaitanu had been sold, or paid for by his new master. Certainly, Dravite’s actions indicated that was his plan; to sell the kelvic off. The few words he spoke in halting Common confirmed that theory. It did not occur to Kaitanu that, when Dravite spoke of being “favored by the gods” he was not referring to himself but the slave. Nor did Kaitanu understand what Dravite really meant to do at the market. Kaitanu was preparing himself for another change of hands, and the best he would hope for was a master too busy or lazy to beat him too often.

The slave followed his temporary master through the golden grass like a pale ghost. As was customary in Kenash he kept a pace behind Dravite, rather than right beside him, staying in the Drykas’ peripheral vision but clearly not in his league. For his part the slave watched the man from under his lashes. Mostly this was to anticipate a blow, though so far Dravite hadn’t done anything but nick his chin. Kaitanu wasn’t expecting to be addressed, though when it happened the questions made sense. Whatever auctioneers they had in this place would need to know a little about their merchandise.

“I was a slave in Kenash, my master. I served the Morealis family.” Kaitanu’s voice was soft, his tone deferential. Behind all that was a certain musical quality which no amount of beatings could get rid of entirely.

When the Drykas gave Kaitanu his name, the slave was confused for a moment. If Dravite was going to sell him, why did the slave need to know his name? And why was the Drykas looking at him so expectantly, as though they were freemen exchanging common courtesies? Kaitanu was the name the slavers had given him, but masters called their slaves whatever they pleased. Did the Drykas not know he could do so as well? Perhaps this one didn’t wish to bother, which was understandable.

“I am Kaitanu, my master.” The slave bobbed his head again.

When his eyes rose a little bit to see his way through the grass, they spotted a large collection of tents ahead. This was clearly the market to which Dravite was leading him, but it wasn’t like anything Kaitanu had ever seen before. Kenash and Ravok had tall buildings in neat rows, with carriages and carts and finely-dressed people. Here, the colors were light and somewhat more muted, or at least less fine. As Kaitanu drew close enough to see better he found that Dravite’s mode of dress wasn’t strange at all. The people in this place would have looked completely out of place in the elegant parlors of Kenash society, and even the commoner folk would have dismissed them as barbarians. Kaitanu could vaguely recall hearing that word used more than once. This was only because he was scouring his broken mind to try and recall anything he’d ever heard about Endrykas. He had the feeling there had been more but couldn’t bring any more of it back. Just a general idea of the roughness of the people.

What that meant for himself as a slave there was no telling, but he doubted he’d be very useful to these people outside of being a horse. As a human he stuck out, with his white skin and pale hair and slim figure. The inhabitants of the tent city were of many shades of brown and gold, all strong and hearty and leather-skinned. As Kaitanu and Dravite drew closer, people passing back and forth between the markets and their camps would stop and stare for a moment at the strange newcomer. Unlike them he had not yet been blessed by Syna’s golden rays. His skin was so near the color of the tunic that they might be forgiven for wondering if his whole body was made of that material. What his appearance and manner would seem like to them was not something Kaitanu wondered about. He was too busy trying to follow Dravite while staying out of everyone else’s way.

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A Horse Is A Horse, Of Course, Of Course [Dravite]

Postby Dravite on September 15th, 2015, 6:56 am

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“Kaitanu,” Dravite managed to butcher with his thick accent, “Dravite,” he turned a hand on himself again, “no master,” he tried to assure the young man; if this word meant what he thought it did, he would not like to be associated with it, “Blackwater, family; Kaitanu guest,” he signed the words in Pavi as he spoke them, perhaps even if Kaitanu picked up a little bit of the language it would be enough to keep him out of trouble; at the very least, he had to remember Blackwater, which Dravite made quite clear. With this, no matter where he found himself in Endrykas, someone would be able to lead him home.

The marketplace was just as busy as ever and Dravite took Kaitanu by the arm to bring him ahead so that he did not lose the boy, shouldering through the crowd with an easy only the barbarians knew. It wasn’t long before they came to a simple stall with a cover that had once been a rich red in colour; bleached overtime by the intense summer sun that still lingered over the city. Dravite would be sorry to see an end to the hot weather, while others welcomed it with open arms.
“Sick?” The woman behind the stall inquired, pointing at Kaitanu as she held his sons away from the merchandise.
“No,” Dravite assured her, tired, hot, thirsty.
“Need water?”
“Bed roll.”
The woman chased her boys out back as she moved to fetch a bed roll, returning soon after, “one silver.”
“Winter blanket,” he added.
“Tally six,” she smiled.
“Rucksack, the leather one,” Dravite pointed.
“One and six, Watchman.”
“Dagger, thank you.”
“Three and six total,” the woman told him.
Dravite tried to negotiate a better price, but the woman was persistent, complaining that she had many mouths to feed. He counted out the right coin and passed it over to the woman before making Kaitanu hold the bed roll. The rest of the items he stowed in the leather rucksack before handing that to Kaitanu as well, “Kaitanu,” Dravite looked thoughtful as if trying to find the right word, frustrated that he didn’t know the equivalent for use, “Stay Blackwater, need equipment.”

They didn’t have to go far down the street before Dravite spotted the boutique he had been seeking, a small sewing shop that he took his clothes to every now and then for mending. The old woman there greeted him with a warm smile and held out her withered hand for him to hold.
Greetings, regards, affection, he signed, wearing his own smile; slow and kind.
“Who?” She pointed at Kaitanu with her eyes before searching those of the Drykas man in front of her.
Friend, he divulged with his free hand, guest.
“Need clothes for guest?”
Dravite nodded, “Simple, warm.”

The old woman helped to kit Kaitanu out with high boots, a pair of plain black pants, jacket, belt, undergarments, leather tabard, scarf, shirts, and a cloak. Dravite paid her before pressing a kiss to the soften skin of her hand, appreciation, thanks, farewell, he waved before leading Kaitanu back to camp; carrying the folded clothes on his behalf.

When they reached camp Dravite pointed out the tent beside his, the much bigger, black tent that was large enough to house even the horses, and put down his things at in the entrance way to the smaller one. Even something as cosy as a four-man tent seemed too large for the lean, young man, and Dravite couldn’t help but grin once the bed roll was laid out at the centre. The horse lord picked up one of his tanned wolf pelts and a couple of deer skins to line the tarp covered floor with; something extra to help keep the man warm when it started to get a little colder.
“Eat dark,” he pointed to the sky, trying to explain that Kaitanu was free to rest for the remainder of the day, surely tired after his long journey from Kenash. “Dravite wake Kaitanu sky dark.”



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Last edited by Dravite on September 18th, 2015, 10:43 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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A Horse Is A Horse, Of Course, Of Course [Dravite]

Postby Kaitanu on September 16th, 2015, 10:16 pm

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Kaitanu stood before the small tent, the sun lowering behind him and casting a long shadow across the entrance. It remained as still and silent as he was then, confused, terrified, not knowing what to do. Surely this was a game of his master’s, to take him into their market and not sell him, after insisting that he was not Kaitanu’s master. Of course, the kelvic could easily have misunderstood him- the Drykas’ Common was so broken that would be easy enough. He must have misunderstood. Dravite had used the word “guest”, which made no sense. A slave was never a guest. A slave did not merit any particular care beyond the bare necessities to keep it going. Then why…why was this man insisting he eat? And sleep? Or had he misunderstood his new master in these things as well?

With difficulty, Kaitanu tried to focus, to remember every word sequence that Dravite had used in Common, desperate to understand. Any mistake would bring swift and painful reprisals. Yet, for all his attempts- to and from the market- Kaitanu could not make head or tail out of Dravte’s actions. What was this man’s purpose in doing all this? What did he mean by it?

Kaitanu knew nothing of kindness so that thought didn’t occur to him. Even the everyday appearance of kindness among freemen was just social politics. Keep worthwhile people on their side, waste no time with those who could not be of any use; that was the way of the world. There was no such thing as love and affection, though Kaitanu had heard it talked of. In him there was no room for such concepts, no real understanding.

The only conclusion he could come up with was that this was all some sort of mind-game. There was no reason for Dravite, his new master, to not want to be called “master”, to set up Kaitanu’s sleeping space for him, to buy him new clothing…and a weapon. A weapon. What master in their right mind would arm a slave? The skinny kelvic was not built to be a bodyguard so why equip him as one?

Kaitanu felt his mind fill to bursting with questions for which he had no answers. Why did Dravite take him to their market and not sell him, after telling Kaitanu he was not his master? Why the new and, for a slave, extravagant clothing? Why put extra furs- precious furs- under his bedroll when Kaitanu had made do his whole life with the bare minimum? Was Dravite intending to keep Kaitanu to use his body as other masters had? Was he being kept for the uncle instead? Why not just have the kelvic come when he was needed without going to so much bother? What did Dravite want of him?

As these thoughts did a tarantella in Kaitanu’s brain, terror spread like wildfire through his body. Even in the heat of the lowering sun he began to tremble as though he was cold. If Dravite had hoped to reach the slave through kindness he would be sorely disappointed. Kaitanu remained rooted to the spot, unable to receive what he had no concept of, and unable to appreciate it when it was given to him so freely. Dravite may as well have expected the kelvic horse to grow wings and fly into space.

Such were the wages of slavery, and such was the damage done to Kaitanu’s very being that he looked upon Dravite’s actions as nothing but a cruel mind-game. The abused kelvic could see it no other way. He crawled into the tent and lay on his bedroll because that was what Dravite seemed to want. Kaitanu even closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. However, in spite of his exhaustion, the slave remained awake and alert. He could not afford to be caught off-guard now, not when he had fallen in with the worst kind of master.

Shuddering as dark memories overtook him, Kaitanu wrapped his thin arms around himself and curled into a tight ball. No tears moistened his dry eyes because they never did, though he felt his chest constrict. How he wished he was back in Kenash with Master Edmund, when he knew what was expected of him. The unknown loomed over the kelvic like a shadow, from which he shrank instinctively, yet he was trapped now. There would be no escaping the Blackwater pavilion, or his new master's sick games. Kaitanu was trapped and, as always, utterly alone.

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A Horse Is A Horse, Of Course, Of Course [Dravite]

Postby Ssezzkero on November 3rd, 2015, 12:37 am

KAITANU
Land Navigation +1
Philosophy +3
Wilderness Survival, Plains +3
Observation +5
Planning +2
Tracking +1
Deduction +5
Interrogation +1
Acting +1
Logic +3
Storytelling +1


Climate: Kenash vs. Endrykas
Freedom: A foreign Concept
Wilderness Survival: Following a herd at a distance
Finding the signs of an owned horse
Grassland Signs
Survival means submission
Dravite: Handsome
Preferring a master over freedom
Happy to follow
Trying to figure out a new 'master'
Drykas: Treat their horses well
Layout: Blackwater Pavilion
Dravite: A kind man
How to walk with a master
Endrykas: A different society than what you are used to


DRAVITE
Hunting +1
Weapon: Shortbow +1
Stealth +1
Tracking +1
Land Navigation +2
Planning +1
Leadership +4
Horsemanship +1
Webbing +1
Logic +3
Weaving +1
Tanning +1
Intimidation +1
Medicine +1
Philosophy +1
Rhetoric +1
Negogiation +1


Tracking: The meaning of fresh dung
Bones: Not a very loyal horse
Recognizing when a stallion will charge
Kaitanu: Not a normal horse
Leading Kaitanu home
Kenash slave brands
Welcoming Kaitanu
Knowing the scars that marked a slave
Treating Kelvics as people
Raven: Thinks Kaitanu is a creature
Kaitanu: Expensive
Taking Kaitanu in
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