An Open Horizon Ahead

[Conor]

69 Winter of 509 AV
A horse galloped over the rolling hills that made up the wildlands. Behind him, the contours of Syliras faded away, being obscured by the sand that was kicked up by the running horse. The war steed neighed vibrantly, obviously happy that it was no longer restricted to the dense stable it had spent four days in. Its rider was equally pleased to leave the city; it had been an interesting and irritating experience to wander in such a huge city, but the never ending flood of commoners had eventually irritated the blood from beneath Conor’s nails. He did miss the dashingly beautiful park and he had encountered a few very fascinating people, but now, he was just happy to continue his journey.

The next stop would be Riverfall, a city built on the cliffs overlooking the ocean – what a magical ring did that word, ocean have – protected by fierce warriors. Riverfall was also the home of the Akalak, and despite the fact that Conor had no clue to who they were, he really wanted to find out. But before he would be travelling through the vast grasslands, he would first have to cross these hills. He had left the known roads, and continued in a straight line towards Cyphrus territory. He was eager to learn more about its inhabitants, and the customs of her population. Hopefully, they weren’t as annoying as the citizens that had plagued Syliras. Conor smiled as the wind blew through his hair, like it was playing with it. He inhaled the fresh air, what a difference with the polluted air of Syliras. Here you smelled flowers and grass, in Syliras you smelled mules and unwashed civilians. Like the most advanced civilization of Mizahar hadn’t managed to grasp the concept of bathing.

It was still cold outside, and Conor pulled his cloak around him. The fur edges of the fine garment tickled his neck and chin. The warm embrace of the fabric engulfed him, and he became oblivious to the cold. He enjoyed the ride as much as his steed did. He gazed at every yard they crossed, trying not to miss a single inch of his surroundings. Although Conor still preferred the snowy fields of his ancestral birthplace, he could imagine why there were so many songs about these lands. It was beautiful, the lush fields he was riding through looked like they were divine creations, and the smell of thaw resided in the air. But Conor stayed vigilant. Many of the songs concerning the wildlands stated that they were dangerous, and Conor had taken quite the risk by leaving the marked roads.

[Jedo]

It was just as Conor had expected of the wildlands; it is a world rife with both beauty and danger, the two going hand in hand in every nook and cranny to be seen. The vibrant white of the snow could be a portent of terrifying things to come, and the rocks and stones along the barely-recognizable road could come crashing into someone's spine or forehead the moment one trips over. Even the trees, silent as they are, could house some creature which could spell disaster for the unwary traveler, or could fall over at any random shake of the ground. However for now, the peace was lucid, and the tranquility went along with the hooting of snowbirds and small rodents foraging for food. The calm would surely be enough to make anyone complacent, but not Conor. And it was wise of him to be so wary of everything around him. Just as the sounds were settling into a more formal tone to his ears, the racket of impending steps crunching the thawing snow made its presence known. It was coming from the right side of the road, right where some thick bramble bushes and a myriad of tall pines were located. Despite the apparent distance of the sound, it was clear and crisp, seemingly heavy and weighed down with something. More importantly, they sounded quite inhuman. The sounds began to creep closer and closer with every passing second, as the sound of the hooting birds in the woods began to fall quiet.

[Conor]

69 Winter of 509 AV

The snow was melting as Conor directed his horse through a few trees. The ground was a bit more rocky here, but it was easy to ride through it if one paid attention. A few birds flew over him, hooting as they fluttered through the sky. Conor’s warhorse neighed joyfully, happy to be outside again. There was no tempering to the steed’s mood. Conor himself was finally beginning to relax when he heard several noises from the right side of the road, where some bramble bushes, and a myriad of tall pines were located. Bandits, Conor thought at first. He stopped his horse, and turned it around to face the bushes, ready to either flee or fight…

But the sound wasn’t human, no, it was heavy and deep, like the grunt of some mythical animal. Perhaps just a wild boar? Conor sheathed his sword and grabbed a javelin. He didn’t know what to hope for; he wanted to see mythical creatures, and yes, he even wanted to fight fearsome monsters, but was he capable enough? What if he was outmatched? What if it was a six foot giant boar-like creature that was hiding behind the pines? His attention didn’t fail, he was ready for whatever was coming at him. Ready to either run or fight.

Maybe it was just his imagination, playing tricks on him. Now that he had spent several days in Syliras, and his ears had grown accustomed to noise. Perhaps the lack of sounds made him imagine some? No, it had sounded real enough… His ears and his gut had never failed him before. His heart was thumping due to the excitement, and anxiously, Conor awaited the beast to come out. Somewhere deep inside him, he cursed himself for not sticking to the roads, but he was an adventurer in heart and soul, and he would remain so forever. He smiled, he was ready for whatever was in those bushes.

[Jedo]

The noise brazenly continued to approach the now-prepared traveler, as if it too wasn't aware at first that there was somebody else in the vicinity, but in the end it did notice. The stalking creature's steps ceased, with a peculiarly loud sniffing noise rumbling across the half-frozen bushes. It was more akin to a pig's snout trying to search something in the ground than anything else, and it did not stop with just one long intake of air. Sniff, sniff, sniff the strange unseen creature went, the leaves shaking and falling from left to right to back to center in quick succession, eventually stopping where Conor was directly. After a few moments of eerie silence, something could be seen rising from the natural barriers that came between them. It rose up slowly from its hiding, with what appears to be grayish hair or fur poking out at first. As the head continued to rise further, a patch of swarthy and wrinkled skin with two huge, wide-open eyes emerged, at last stopping right when Conor and it had made eye contact. With its face half hidden in the flora, the odd figure spoke out in a tight, tiny, squirrel-like voice. "Who are you?"

[Conor]

69 Winter of 509 AV

An eerie silence only broken by an even creepier wind made Conor even more nervous. His heart was pounding faster and faster, but Conor wasn’t really scared. He was exited, perhaps a bit cautious and nervous as well, but he knew that he could handle himself well enough. After that nerve crushing silence, Conor could finally see the contours of “the thing”. At first, he could only see some fur, and then, two huge eyes were visible. The monster established eye contact with Conor, and the young adventurer grabbed his javelin, ready to throw it. But the beast did not lunge at him, nor did it howl or do anything beastlike. With its face still half hidden in the flora, the odd figure spoke out in a tight, tiny, squirrel-like voice. "Who are you?"

Conor shrugged; it could talk! Now that was strange… Or perhaps it wasn’t an animal, maybe it was another race, after all, he had met a Kelvic in Syliras. The puny voice it spoke with gave the whole encounter a comical accent, but it Conor didn’t let his guard down. “Never judge a man by his appearance,” his former sword trainer had told him on several occasions. And he spoke the truth, for he himself was a small bony man, but he was a demon once he wielded a sword. With his lightning fast strikes and many different ruses and feints he had bested Conor on more than one occasion. “I’m Gray,” Conor said. He didn’t feel comfortable, talking to an animal – and certainly not when he couldn’t even see what animal, if indeed it was one!

He wanted to say something witty and sharp, to test the creature, but he decided not to, and instead of angering it, he simply said: “Who and what are you?” He rode his horse a bit closer, and tried to have a better look at the beast/man/monster. It sure was an intriguing fellow – or was it a woman – and if it was capable of speaking, than perhaps it could share its wisdom with a starting adventurer. Conor smiled, comforted with the fact that a beast that could speak at least was a bit domesticated. Or was he that wrong? Either way, he didn’t let his guard down, not for a second.

[Jedo]

The creature's unnervingly massive yellowish stare wavered slightly at the discreetly backhanded question, with a very thin eyebrow--or eyebrow like patch of hair--rising up slowly to the top of a very wrinkled forehead. "How insulting!" it chirped in a very condensed voice, hard bloodshot veins forming around the edges of its orbs as it cried out in indignation. Strangely enough, its lower face kept itself concealed in the bush, so it would have been hard to tell that it was actually angry."I am human! Can't you even tell that?! Kids these days! I asked you so politely and yet here you are insulting me!" As if to prove its--his--point, the 'human' head popped back down into the bushes, with the rustlings following to the left as 'he' emerged into full view. "See, you insolent youngin?! I am human!" 'he' screamed, jumping up and down and flailing 'his' arms about 'him' in fury. This 'he' did continuously for around a minute, until 'he' stopped and curled into a ball in exhaustion, embracing 'his' knees about 'him' like a shivering victim of abuse. If he truly was human, he would have to be the weirdest one yet, for he looked more like some sort of deformed Pycon parody with flesh than a full grown man. The thick patch of woolly stuff on his head indeed is hair, but it grew only at the cap, with the sides left completely bald. Thick, angry veins ran on his temples like rivers, and there is a large liver spot to be seen below his left eye. A very pert nose can also be seen, as well as an enormous mouth with fat, wrinkly lips. Across his shoulders was slung a rather peculiar sort of weapon, a cross between a sword and a spear, and he was wearing a very dusty and dirty jumpsuit which clearly outlined his body's... Secrets. On his entirety, he probably stood no more than 4 feet tall. Maybe even shorter, but it wouldn't matter. He is a very tiny... Man, regardless. As he rocked back and forth in the snowy ground like a traumatized child, he started mumbling incoherent sentences before completely stopping his movements. His mouth was left open to the wind, as were his eyes, staring and gawking at nothing in particular towards a space to Conor's right, with a long trail of saliva soon descending from his mouth. "UNGAAAAAAAAH." he let out a noise from the depths of his throat.

[Conor]

69 Winter of 509 AV

“How insulting!” the creature chirped, clearly showing its anger. Had Conor said something bad after all? Conor shrugged, he really had a neck for getting in trouble. Strangely enough, the creature kept its face hidden behind the bushes, which really didn’t stimulate the conversation. How odd to have a conversation with a beast, Conor thought. How strange that it is so sentient, it’s almost human! "I am human! Can't you even tell that?! Kids these days! I asked you so politely and yet here you are insulting me,” the monster said. Wait, he wasn’t an animal? He was a human, a living, breathing, shouting and annoying human. “Figures,” Conor muttered. Now he knew why that “animal” was capable of talking.

Before Conor could even start to utter an apology, the man jumped from behind the bushes, and began to jump up and down, waving his arms around spastically. It was almost like he was suffering from some strange unbearable disease that made him do all those weird leaps. "See, you insolent youngling?! I am human!" the man screamed. He curled himself into a ball, embracing his knees about him. He clearly was exhausted from his strange ordeal. Even though he strongly resembled a human, he still looked kind of strange. He had multiple visible veins – thick throbbing ones – and his hair didn’t seem to grow at the sides. His enormous flat mouth that had just spit all those insults was perhaps his most peculiar asset.

He had a strange sword – almost a spear – strapped to his back, and he wore an old jumpsuit. He clearly wasn’t the most fashionable man in Sylira, and his frail look didn’t exactly make him look any better. “I’m sorry sir, but your face was hidden behind those bushes… I didn’t expect to see another human being here.” Conor said as the weak human being rocked back and forth like a child. Suddenly, he stopped moving at all… And then suddenly, while saliva was dripping out of his mouth, he cried out something very strange. "UNGAAAAAAAAH." He screamed. “Are you ok?” Conor asked. He really had no idea what the man meant. He was just gawking at something near the young traveler, but there was nothing there, except for grass and snow. “I didn’t understand what you said,” Conor said.

[Jedo]

The tiny old man neither minded nor responded to Conor’s observations and apologies; he simply kept staring and gawking with an open mouth at the tiny blank space in his sight, both bodily openings growing drier and obviously more painful. Yet there was no wince, no suggestive movement, nothing at all. With the zeal of a true maniac the old man pressed on with the display. A minute passed. And another, and another, until he had been doing the quiet tirade for the better part of a dozen minutes. By this time, the old man’s eyes were so dry that the red lines scarring the whites seemed to be turning bloody, and his continuous drooling wasn't helping at all. The thick, dribbling liquid was starting to congregate on a patch of grass below his mouth, the ice obviously suffering from the intensely acidic qualities. Some of it also got into his tight jumpsuit, making the wind all the more colder when it blew past them. Finally after what seemed like an eternally boring, confusing and emaciating 15 minutes, the old man finally shows signs of falling back to earth, blinking his eyes slowly and grindingly. The blinking was intensely slow due to the lack of moisture in each eyeball, and another loud “UNGAAAAAAAAAH!” escaped through that still-open latch of his, though it now sounded more like tearing metal than anything close to a human voice. A slimy purple tongue started to clean off the traces of saliva that had been left on the sides of his mouth, adding more… humanity to his next word’s sound quality: “You broke my ritual you wretch! Or did I just choose a bad spot for it—but still! It’s all your fault!” Trying to get back up from crouching so long, the old man failed miserably, falling back on his buttocks and sprawling his legs in front of him like a drunken gorilla. “Heh! Since you have at least been kind enough to wait for me to finish my banishing ritual, I’ll give you something to remember. Listen carefully, it’s gonna be memorable!” With this, he let out the longest, loudest and most nerve-shattering fart Conor would have ever experienced. And the smell wasn’t one to contend with, either. Even the air seemed to disdain the sadistically evil gift from the bowels of hell, the aroma lingering for a few moments despite the even wind blowing right at them. “AHHH.” He sighed in relief, almost as if he had not merely let out some bad air, but had performed the entire defecation ritual right then and there. His entire body shook in release, and his tiny impish hands clutched the grass beneath him. The hideous eyes thrust upwards in pleasure, and his huge mouth pierced into a delighted, toothy grin. Or at least, as toothy as a half-dozen missing, yellowed teeth would allow. “SO! What were you saying again?” he asked, using his little finger to pick his nose lackadaisically.

[Conor]

69 Winter of 509 AV

That little impish man was no doubt the most grotesque and idiotic person Conor had ever met. For twelve minutes he kept on rocking back and forth like a child. He drooled all over the place and his eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets any second. Red veins appeared on them, and for a moment Conor thought that they were going to burst. He didn’t really feel comfortable with that little man, and he was about to leave when the man seemed to regain some of its sanity. If you could call that sanity… “You broke my ritual you wretch! Or did I just choose a bad spot for it—but still! It’s all your fault,” he screamed. He used a slimy purple tongue to clean of his mouth, but it made his appearance only more disgusting.

“I’m sorry,” Conor uttered again. Now he really wanted to leave. This man was either some perverted wizard, or he was a psychopath of some sorts. When the man tried to get up again, he fell, but Conor didn’t try to help him. He didn’t want to be near this man… not only was he repulsive, he was impolite and arrogant as well. But there was something about him that made Conor stay, something that made him look dangerous as well as wise, something that made Conor’s skin crawl. He decided to stay, but he didn’t let his guard down, no he was ready for anything… Well almost anything.

“Heh! Since you have at least been kind enough to wait for me to finish my banishing ritual, I’ll give you something to remember. Listen carefully, it’s gonna be memorable!” The man screamed. Oh no, magic, Conor thought, but instead of a divine incantation, or some other spell, the man simply farted. It was more than just a fart, it smelled like something had crawled up inside that man and had died there in his stomach. It was so fetid that Conor almost decided to leave. But then the man simply said: “SO! What were you saying again?” What had he said? He had excused himself for his mistake, but he had been punished tenfold for that.

“I said I was sorry to interrupt your ritual,” Conor said. “I was merely hoping that you could tell me a bit more about you. You seem to possess a certain… wisdom…” The young adventurer stayed polite, no matter what. Maybe he could still get something out of this encounter, some experience or knowledge perhaps. Or maybe he just had to fight for his live, maybe he would have to run. One thing comforted him, there was no way that that little smelly ape could keep up to a war steed. Heck, Conor would bet that that man couldn’t even win a duel from him, but he stayed vigilant. Sometimes people were surprising, like Rai, who hadn’t been human even though she seemed to be one. No, he would keep his guard up and try to get the old man on his side.

[Jedo]

"Ooooooh." the old man replied in a heaving sigh, continuing to pick his nose and then rolling the dirty sludge up into tiny balls in his fingers once extracted. While he showed no trace of interest whatsoever, the strange little imp continued to speak in a passive and bored voice. "Know about me? Heh! You do not deserve to know more about me!" he sniffed, following it by flicking the booger away from his fingers. A dribble of mucus from his nose started to go down in a line from his left nostril, where a single strand of hair stuck out conspicuously. "I am the greatest swordmaster of these current times! An insolent young punk like you deserves nothing from me!" True that he was incredibly impolite, crude and downright degenerate, but the most annoying thing about it was that he seemed to enjoy being such. Like he was somehow licensed to do whatever he wanted. There was a glint in the man's huge eyes that did speak of a deeper reservoir, and judging from his looks, he was nothing of the ordinary. He seemed to be way past 70 years, yet was still springy enough to jump around and crawl into one's skin like some specie of frog. Once they settled on Conor's weapon, a flash of seriousness creased his aged forehead, and a suggestive smirk roared into his bloated lips. ...only for it to sink back into a catatonic vegetable state as he yawned. "Lots of critters here in these woods at this time! Time for me to go!" he remarked, jumping up from his slouching position with a quick kick of his stubby legs into the ground. Without saying another word, the old man turned his back on Conor and started walking away towards the woods, walking in a strange duck-like manner.