16th of Winter, 516 AV
Say what you will about Beodan, he was a horse that knew how to start the day off right. A piping mug of peppermint tea with charming curls of steam rising to greet the cool morning air, followed by a brisk, half a bell’s trot to his favorite meadow for a feast as the sun rose.. Well cultivated, the sweet grass sported new, bright green growths, and a clustering of wildflowers out of bloom. Away he munched, visiting the spots where the grass was most lush, leaving the rest to grow unbutchered. He grunted in pleasure, his ears flicking with delight. An insect of some buzzing variety dared approach him and was met with a swat from his tail. Out of season, the Kelvic mused, Morwen was great at sending all the bugs to their deaths. It was a shame she was shirking her duties this year, for he could do without the annoyance breaking his blissful morning.
A great howl of pain and anguish erupted from the direction of the road some ways off, but still audible and piercing. Dan brought himself up to his full height, swallowing his last mouthful of breakfast. His ears at attention, he could just make out the sound of human screams under the occasional high pitched yelp that sound like a wolf or dog of some sort. He sniffed in exasperation and took off at a gallop across the meadow towards the noise.
A handful or two of chimes later and the Kelvic reached the edge of the forest on the road. The scent of blood was strong, hanging in the air like a wet blanket. Blood trailed on the road, heading off towards the city. He could see a cart in the distance, with a group of men shouting on it, brandishing weapons. Creeping closer along the tree line until he was less than a stone throw away, he could see a large dog attempting to jump onto the back of the wagon, growling and biting as he did so. A man with a battered face, bleeding out of his forehead and lip, was bound and lying at the bottom of the cart. He groaned loudly as one of the men kicked him sharply in the ribs with his boot. This seemed to enrage the dog further, as it managed to catch the foot of one of the men trying to ward the beast off. He was wrenched off the back by the weight of the animal that now had its teeth deep into his calf. The man desperately hit the dog with his fists to no avail, his dagger out of reach. Another thug jumped off the cart after his fallen companion. A mace blow to the side proved to me far more effective a motivator, for the dog let go with another whine and limped off hastily. After watching it warily, the uninjured man help his companion up, offering his shoulder to assist in climbing the now halted wagon. The bound man had tears in his eyes as he rubbed a gnosis mark, likely from Morwen contextually. A swift kick in the family jewels, from the man the dog had gotten a taste of, saw him curling into a ball, a grim smile on the thug’s face at the petty compensation.
The shell-shocked Kelvic sat frozen at the edge of the trees, helpless to do anything for the Vantha. He would not actively oppose the priests that sought the heads of Morwen’s children, but he certainly would not be the one turning them in. It felt… wrong. Against what he stood for.
With a start, the Herbalist realized there was something he could do for the unknown Vantha man. The dog’s master would likely be dead within the day. The least he could do was make sure his best friend survived to see another sunrise. He walked forward, hooves clopping on the stones, to where he guessed the dog had gone into the woods. Could not have gone far, not with what should be crushed ribs. Sure enough, he found a trail of blood drops and smears leading directly into the forest, perpendicular to the road. Eyes on the ground, the Kelvic walked along the trail of gore.
Say what you will about Beodan, he was a horse that knew how to start the day off right. A piping mug of peppermint tea with charming curls of steam rising to greet the cool morning air, followed by a brisk, half a bell’s trot to his favorite meadow for a feast as the sun rose.. Well cultivated, the sweet grass sported new, bright green growths, and a clustering of wildflowers out of bloom. Away he munched, visiting the spots where the grass was most lush, leaving the rest to grow unbutchered. He grunted in pleasure, his ears flicking with delight. An insect of some buzzing variety dared approach him and was met with a swat from his tail. Out of season, the Kelvic mused, Morwen was great at sending all the bugs to their deaths. It was a shame she was shirking her duties this year, for he could do without the annoyance breaking his blissful morning.
A great howl of pain and anguish erupted from the direction of the road some ways off, but still audible and piercing. Dan brought himself up to his full height, swallowing his last mouthful of breakfast. His ears at attention, he could just make out the sound of human screams under the occasional high pitched yelp that sound like a wolf or dog of some sort. He sniffed in exasperation and took off at a gallop across the meadow towards the noise.
A handful or two of chimes later and the Kelvic reached the edge of the forest on the road. The scent of blood was strong, hanging in the air like a wet blanket. Blood trailed on the road, heading off towards the city. He could see a cart in the distance, with a group of men shouting on it, brandishing weapons. Creeping closer along the tree line until he was less than a stone throw away, he could see a large dog attempting to jump onto the back of the wagon, growling and biting as he did so. A man with a battered face, bleeding out of his forehead and lip, was bound and lying at the bottom of the cart. He groaned loudly as one of the men kicked him sharply in the ribs with his boot. This seemed to enrage the dog further, as it managed to catch the foot of one of the men trying to ward the beast off. He was wrenched off the back by the weight of the animal that now had its teeth deep into his calf. The man desperately hit the dog with his fists to no avail, his dagger out of reach. Another thug jumped off the cart after his fallen companion. A mace blow to the side proved to me far more effective a motivator, for the dog let go with another whine and limped off hastily. After watching it warily, the uninjured man help his companion up, offering his shoulder to assist in climbing the now halted wagon. The bound man had tears in his eyes as he rubbed a gnosis mark, likely from Morwen contextually. A swift kick in the family jewels, from the man the dog had gotten a taste of, saw him curling into a ball, a grim smile on the thug’s face at the petty compensation.
The shell-shocked Kelvic sat frozen at the edge of the trees, helpless to do anything for the Vantha. He would not actively oppose the priests that sought the heads of Morwen’s children, but he certainly would not be the one turning them in. It felt… wrong. Against what he stood for.
With a start, the Herbalist realized there was something he could do for the unknown Vantha man. The dog’s master would likely be dead within the day. The least he could do was make sure his best friend survived to see another sunrise. He walked forward, hooves clopping on the stones, to where he guessed the dog had gone into the woods. Could not have gone far, not with what should be crushed ribs. Sure enough, he found a trail of blood drops and smears leading directly into the forest, perpendicular to the road. Eyes on the ground, the Kelvic walked along the trail of gore.
