TThe Outskirts of the Mythryn. Date: 10-15th of summer.
Hooves clapped against the beaten path of what is known as the Kabrin Road. Ferrin. The rider, sat uncomfortably in his saddle as he held tightly to the reins of the dark colored Zavian. It's not just any stallion. It was one of Ferrins friends, best friends. He trusted the mare as much as he would trust his own friends and family. Well, more than that even. He wouldn't let anything happen to it, no matter what.
Caws could be heard a half mile out to the east of the Kabrin. Crows circled around high up in the sky, in search of whatever dead game they could muster. Ferrin looked upwards towards the direction of the minuscule flock of crows. He counted four in number. The woods were left behind the two as they continued along, though the birds were circling something.
Cyprus, the Zavian. Whinnied and halted nervously, flipping his head to either side of him; his locks of straw like hair whipped Ferrin in his tanned face. Ferrin flushed a rose red, his teal blue eyes looked as if the hues changed to a darker more serious attitude. "Calm down boy. What the petch is wrong? You know I don't like it when your hair whips in my face." Demanded the Kenashian as he tried his best to stay balanced on the saddle. They were only a few days away from the Mythryn. Where Ferrin was ordered to patrol at for a few days. Then he'll come back.
Ferrin peered over the saddle as the horse tended to calm down and snorted every other tick or so. "What the hell is wrong..." Ferrin said to himself. The crows were still circling. Ferrin grew more curious. He turned Cyprus round and lightly rasped them. The sound vibrated with a light whip, Cyprus snorted and followed through his given orders. Synas light shown fair across the plains of the open grassland. The Zavian rushed over to the locstion of what was to be; a tipped and salvaged wagon.
A dead male was discovered crushed by one of the wooden wheels and the pressure of the wagon itself. And not only crushed, but burned as well. The wagon itself was in no shape for transportation as if just by touching it, the wagon would crumble and get carried away by the wind like dust. Ferrin gagged at the smeel of a burnt corpse. "By Sylirs tongue." Exclaimed Ferrin in awe.
The horse inched closer. Ferrin patted the mare lightly on his neck. He could feel the tension in Cyprus as well. "Let's look for tracks, right boy?" Asked Ferrin to Cyprus timidly. He couldn't understand what was going on here. Why this close to the Mythryn as well. There were flies all over the dead body, it appeared to be only a few days old as Ferrin inspected it fairly close. Yonder the wagon, as Cyrpus rounded it, Ferrin spotted some tracks. "There. A few horse tracks and a trail of three pairs of feet, at least. Slavers? Bandits... Whoever they are, we should follow them. Come." Ferrin had felt itchy inside his leather armor. He rested one hand on the hilt of his short broadsword, his longbow within its case was tied on the back of Cyprus, along with the quiver.
Cyprus whinnied and carefully clopped his hooves alongside the trails. Being careful of his steps as Ferrin kept an eye out for any signs of danger. Ferrin only believes that Sylir is on his side. If things go wrong... He'll need to find a way out of it.
Hooves clapped against the beaten path of what is known as the Kabrin Road. Ferrin. The rider, sat uncomfortably in his saddle as he held tightly to the reins of the dark colored Zavian. It's not just any stallion. It was one of Ferrins friends, best friends. He trusted the mare as much as he would trust his own friends and family. Well, more than that even. He wouldn't let anything happen to it, no matter what.
Caws could be heard a half mile out to the east of the Kabrin. Crows circled around high up in the sky, in search of whatever dead game they could muster. Ferrin looked upwards towards the direction of the minuscule flock of crows. He counted four in number. The woods were left behind the two as they continued along, though the birds were circling something.
Cyprus, the Zavian. Whinnied and halted nervously, flipping his head to either side of him; his locks of straw like hair whipped Ferrin in his tanned face. Ferrin flushed a rose red, his teal blue eyes looked as if the hues changed to a darker more serious attitude. "Calm down boy. What the petch is wrong? You know I don't like it when your hair whips in my face." Demanded the Kenashian as he tried his best to stay balanced on the saddle. They were only a few days away from the Mythryn. Where Ferrin was ordered to patrol at for a few days. Then he'll come back.
Ferrin peered over the saddle as the horse tended to calm down and snorted every other tick or so. "What the hell is wrong..." Ferrin said to himself. The crows were still circling. Ferrin grew more curious. He turned Cyprus round and lightly rasped them. The sound vibrated with a light whip, Cyprus snorted and followed through his given orders. Synas light shown fair across the plains of the open grassland. The Zavian rushed over to the locstion of what was to be; a tipped and salvaged wagon.
A dead male was discovered crushed by one of the wooden wheels and the pressure of the wagon itself. And not only crushed, but burned as well. The wagon itself was in no shape for transportation as if just by touching it, the wagon would crumble and get carried away by the wind like dust. Ferrin gagged at the smeel of a burnt corpse. "By Sylirs tongue." Exclaimed Ferrin in awe.
The horse inched closer. Ferrin patted the mare lightly on his neck. He could feel the tension in Cyprus as well. "Let's look for tracks, right boy?" Asked Ferrin to Cyprus timidly. He couldn't understand what was going on here. Why this close to the Mythryn as well. There were flies all over the dead body, it appeared to be only a few days old as Ferrin inspected it fairly close. Yonder the wagon, as Cyrpus rounded it, Ferrin spotted some tracks. "There. A few horse tracks and a trail of three pairs of feet, at least. Slavers? Bandits... Whoever they are, we should follow them. Come." Ferrin had felt itchy inside his leather armor. He rested one hand on the hilt of his short broadsword, his longbow within its case was tied on the back of Cyprus, along with the quiver.
Cyprus whinnied and carefully clopped his hooves alongside the trails. Being careful of his steps as Ferrin kept an eye out for any signs of danger. Ferrin only believes that Sylir is on his side. If things go wrong... He'll need to find a way out of it.
