[Flashback] To Where the Ink Leads (Xalet)

[Faraluun]

Timestamp: 16th of Fall, 499 AV [Just outside the grand city] Through the forest he shambled, the men he had served with for so long far behind him in the safety of the caravan. Blood streamed thick down his right arm to drip down his sun kissed features, dripping from his right hand with every stride. The shoulder of his armor hung in loose bloodied pieces, barely hanging onto the rest of the armor in more places than he would have cared it to, with the rest of his well worn armor littered in a crosshatch collection of scratches and tears. He bore the pain radiating from his shoulder all with a bitter grimace plastering his features, his once sure footed strides reduced to pathetic limps as he shifted to not jar his torn shoulder too much. In his off hand he dragged his backpack along, his good arm much to weak to even support the weight of a quill much less a backpack laden with goods. Every deep breath brought fresh forest air into his lungs, and stinging pain to his arm, but the pain worked to push him harder and motivate him to keep going. His very legs felt like lead, the exertion becoming a bit more harder to bear with every step till finally he crashed against a tree, sinking down to his knees as his shuddering breaths racked his form. Behind him Celloas trotted, keeping a look out for other creatures in the wood that might hurt the stumbling man. There was no hope to be had in this forest, he hadn't been fast enough, hadn't been strong enough to make it to the famed city. It was too bad, he had been looking forward to seeing its fabled walls.

[Xalet]

A young Xalet was a comical thing. The 'boy' as he would be considered in Akalak's terms stood six feet tall, quite a bit of a difference in size between him and the typical page. At seventeen years of age, Xalet still had quite a bit of growing left in him, and his mother often said that if he was this tall in his youth, he could expect to easily become seven feet when he matured further. The comedy wasn't found so much in his size or appearance, but in his lack of aptitude within the ranks of the Knights.

Xalet was considered a page, and as such his days were often spent learning the ways of Knighthood and Chivalry. Swordplay, defense, tactics, riding, history, law, and all of the other various materials both physical and mental expected of someone his age. Perhaps it was the Human society, or simply the lack of a proper Akalak upbringing, but Xalet always felt like a fish out of water. The other boys didn't always approve of him, race aside, due to his vibrant purple skin. Animals didn't approve of him due to reasons unbeknownst to Xalet. Horses in particular hated him. They bit him when he attempted to ride them, and often ran away when they finally managed to dismount the Akalak.

Such an occurrence happened on that day, the 16th of fall. "Stop! Halt! Woah!" Xalet shouted at his temporarily assigned horse as it galloped ahead of him, leaving the page to follow behind at a distance. As if toying with him, the horse would pause, almost taunting the Akalak to catch up, only to dart off once more when he closed some of the distance. The page now found himself far away from the procession of pages that he had previously been with, all students of a Knight and learning the ropes, or perhaps reigns of horse-riding so to speak. A few of the boys had laughed when Xalet ran off after his horse, but no one had made much of an effort to wrangle him back in line. He'd make it eventually, or he'd have to answer to his Patron afterward. That was the thought.

Xalet's breath escaped his mouth raggedly as his body bowed from the exertion of running all throughout the forest, "You stupid horse..." he grumbled, finally falling down to his knees. His hands touched the forest floor beneath him, seeking to stabilize his body before he tilted straight onto his face. It was then, as he lifted his head up to find the path of the horse that he spotted the outline of a man, his back against a tree. "What the..." Xalet breathed in sharply, pushing himself back up to his feet. He approached the man cautiously and as his distance between him and the man shortened, he noticed the blood seeping from the man's body. Was he dead? Quickly he called back to the line he had come from, trying to get the attention of the Knight leading the page's, "Ser! Ser!?" No luck, they were too far away now.

Turning his attention back to the man, Xalet felt the confines of his throat tighten up, just what had he walked upon? He felt his eyes darting around him, was it an ambush? No, nothing happened yet, the man was still just...there. "Hey? Hey are you alive?" he spoke downward to the man, still keeping a bit of distance between he and the stranger. Xalet was still just a squire, and thus while he had the coat and tabard of a page, he wore not the typical armor of the squires or knights. Indeed the only way one could tell he was a member of Syliras at all was due to the coat of arms imprinted upon his tabard, showing it and all he wore was property of the Syliran Knights.

[Faraluun]

A voice strong and sure echoed out in the darkness of his mind, and his eyelids fluttering open he saw the world once more in vivid detail. Colors of the forest blazed rich before his gaze before dulling back to a more natural way of things, and he shook his head briskly in an attempt to clear the haze in his mind. There had been a voice, a man's calling out to him through the gloom he had settled in. Had it been an illusion, just a trick of the continued bloodless from his bleeding shoulder. Setting his hands on the fine grass he pushed himself up using the rough, sturdy surface of the tree as support as he inched higher on shaky legs. A monstrous shadow crossed over his form and to the side he could hear his steed snort anxiously. His teal eyes flickered over to see something he hadn't expected to see this far from the grass. The name of the race slipped his mind in those moments, his recollection of his time in Riverfall much to muddled for him to extract anything useful from it. For now it would be due to know him as a purple skinned one. A savior needed no title. "Aye" he croaked, his voice cracking cause of his dry throat, his haste having made it slip his mind in taking a swig of the waterskin still firmly tied across his chest. He took a shaky step forward to the giant of a man, his feet tripping up a moment later so that he would have fallen on the man had the purple skinned one moved closer. Blood spurted periodically from the wide tear in his shoulder, strips of cotton fluffing out from the wound from when the beast had dragged his jaws from it's death grip. By now the right half of his shirt was soaked in blood still yet hidden under the leather, and even more stained the surface of his tanned armor. Confused, mind suffering in no small part for a touch of too much sun, he scrabbled at the ground, or dropped at the man's tabard if his would be savior had dared to inch closer to him. He was getting so cold causing his lips to start trembling to much for word to even come forth from his lips anymore. With his last ounce of lucidity he offered up a prayer to leth, and promptly passed out into a heap on the soft turf.

[Xalet]

He moved! The man moved, so he wasn't dead! Then, even better yet, he spoke. The young page could see the injury that had caused so much blood loss. It looked far to ragged to be from a typical weapon blow, and the lacerations were too large to be from a simple accident. It almost looked like some type of mauling from a wild animal, but the young Xalet was far too inexperienced with such injuries to know anything more specific.

Xalet did approach slowly, reaching out slightly as if to offer the man a hand at getting up, but it seemed the stranger managed to make his own way to his feet, a commendable showing of physical endurance and strength, something valuable enough in the eyes of an Akalak. "We need to get you to--uuggh." Xalet did not get many more words out before the man fell forward on top of him, the weight of another person was enough to stagger Xalet to the rear, causing him to take a step or two to readjust his feet for the new weight that had just come resting against his front. The thought of his words was still fresh in his own mind, Xalet needed to get the man into the city.

It was lucky the page had spent so much time building the blocks that made up his body. From the bottom up, nutrition, strength training, flexibility, and muscular endurance were things he worked on constantly. The squires and Knights that he worked tasks for knew which inherent advantages his blood had given him. Knowledge and discipline would come, but his strength could be built up much more quickly. All Xalet had to do was follow orders.

Now there was no one to give the orders, and the page had to think for himself. "What to do, what to do..." his mind raced. He tried to think about his practical field dressing training, and then he realized...he never had any. He had been told what to do in case of an injury, but he never actually had to practice said information. He knew he needed to get the bleeding under control, especially if he was going to carry the man back to the town. Acting on that notion, Xalet bent his knees and slowly lowered the man down to the ground before further inspecting his shoulder injury. There was red everywhere, it obscured any chance the Akalak had at determining the depth and severity of the wound, until he remembered, "Clear before dressing." He zeroed in on the man's waterskin and removed it, preparing the top before raining down a short stream atop of the wound site.

The view beneath was enough to make him wish he hadn't. It looked like something had...bit the man. Struggling to keep calm as best he could, Xalet called upon the next bit of information he could recall, lucky enough to at least have them in order, "Apply pressure, dress the wound." Apply pressure, simple enough. He looked down and around and could find to loose fabric to wield in the sake of making a bandage. The cleanest bit of cloth came from his own tabard, of which a sleeve was ripped readily off with a few clean jerks of his arm. "Hey, you still there? Wake up." Xalet called to the man nervously as he began to wad the first sleeve up and press it against the wound. The other sleeve came off next, it's purpose to encircle the man's shoulder beneath the armpit and around the scapula to keep the wadding in place.

[Faraluun]

The sharp pain in his shoulder dragged him from the hazy consciousness he found himself in, and he soon regretted it as his eyes flickered open. Sharp tingles spiderwebbed down his arm in time with the beat of his heart, but by leth's mercy at least someone had been proper enough to dress the gruesome bite his shoulder had taken. His vision swam as it shifted from blurry to clear, hardly at all sparing him a look at his current rescuer, and his lips trembled as he tried to thank the man for his service. Words only came out as indistinguishable grunts though as fever had long set into his bones and even now kept him so shaken though the wound had been far from fatal when he first received it. By some measure of grace though his left hand managed to find the cloth of the man's shirt, and hold onto that he did as he fought to keep some semblance of stability in a world that seemed to spin around him. If only he could get the world to stand still, and his lips to move he could properly thank this man who had found him. All he could do was keep concentrating on the cloth he held in his hands, and how it made him feel all the much more solid with the fabric in his hands. Bidden in his addled state, the back his left hand flared bright as gripped the torso of the man's tabard, and blurry vision was replaced by images not fitting were he was now, but instead was assaulted with images placed well in the walls of the towering city he sought. Glimpses of the man standing before him flashed through his mind before all was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and so brought his fingers to tighten around the fabric of the man's tabard as spearing pain went through his consciousness and dissipated the vision's into nothingness. There yet remained a name in the wake of the fast fading visions, a name attached to the figure that so bore him good will even in these dark times, in some of the more troubled moments of his life, though his mind could not properly form it, not yet anyways. With a huge measure of effort, his right elbow pushed him off of the ground drawing a grimace and causing his head to spin but bringing him upright at least. His teal eyes sought and found that of the mans, and with another grunt of pain, he released the man's tabard and pushed himself onto his knees. "The traders bid me to rush towards the city, do you know of it?"

[Xalet]

Xalet could almost see them. The lights of the man's eyes as they sought to stay illuminated. It seemed he had lost more blood than the squire had previously anticipated and as such getting him to the city became an immediate priority. More importantly, getting him to someone that could help. Xalet's Patron came to mind almost instantaneously. A Konti with skill in herbalism and twice marked by the Healer herself. There was no better chance for survival than she, the Sergeant Irine Braklin. With the power infused by her God she could put the man's pains to rest, if only Xalet could get him there.

The tall squire stood fast as the man utilized him as a means to get up to his knees. Xalet didn't mind. His most pressure concern was in determining just who he was helping. It wasn't in him to leave any man to bleed to death, even if they were a vagabond, but it would have been comforting to know he wasn't aiding a minion of Rhysol or the like. "Know it? Yes. I am stationed there. I am a Paige to the Syliran Knights. My Patron is Sergeant Irine Braklin, but more importantly she is a healer that can aid you. We are not far, but it is a walk on foot..." For a moment the Akalak seemed to be searching for something, his torso twisting here and there as his eyes narrowed, watching, searching. Searching for that animal that had abandoned him. If only those creatures followed orders as well as the squire's that rode them.

"...and without a horse. I..." the young purple tinged squire began, only to fall silent when his mount trotted cautiously into view. Was it possible that the creature found this man interesting enough to tolerate Xalet's presence in the stranger's midst? He tried not to think too deeply into the phenomena, it was just a matter of keeping the horse around long enough to get this man upon it and back into the walls of the city. "...my horse...has returned. Can you find the strength to stand? I might be able to help you up into the saddle, it will be much faster to the city. But...who are you? Where did you come from? What happened?" Xalet hadn't thought far enough ahead to see the impropriety in hitting an injured man with quite so many inquiries. All those questions rested plainly inside of Xalet's thoughts, beckoning him to ask so as not to endanger himself or the citizen's of Syliras.

[Faraluun]

His head sagged as the muscles in his neck untended and he relaxed for a scarce moment in a effort to stifle the pain, but it did not work for long. The man was a knight he had heard, and if such was the case perhaps he was indeed in good hands. All throughout the trip he had heard the inspired tales of the grand city, of its stone walls, and it famous knights sworn to protect the ground it rested on. It was quite the tale, but to see it in actuality and to have breathing proof just before him would have been a bit overwhelming was he not fighting for his life. He struggled to lift his head, shifting enough to fully face the Akalak, his breathing coming more ragged with every passing moment.

"A seeker by nature, times now find me a humble traveler wanting of only of a place to stay as I wait. I was attacked by a wolf." Faraluun grunted out, his hand pressed tight to his shoulder as he spoke. With his free left hand he grabbed at the squire's arm, pulling with all his strength, and only barely stumbling to his feet. "I'm able enough, though getting on the horse might be tough"

[Xalet]

Xalet kept one hand upon the battered man, holding him as steady as possible while his opposite hand slipped out to grab a hold of the horses reigns. Maneuvering the horses head with a pull of those leathery strands, the young Page did the best he could to prepare the man for his assent up the horse, stopping the creature as the right most stirrup was in front of him. "You're not alone, I'll aid you." It was all the Akalak could do to give the man the boost he needed. There had been an instance of suspicion between him and this man, but the wound he carried upon his shoulder was genuine enough, and while Xalet was certainly no medic the nature of the gouges seemed appropriate with a wolf attack. Though the bronze woods were barren of the over-sized creatures that plagued the rest of the world, there certainly were wild beasts that could attack a man out of territorial instinct or hunger.

One way or another Xalet had to get that man up on his loaned horse, then it was just a matter of walking the equine toward the city, which luckily he did not have much time to get very far away from. "I see. Rest if you can. I will try to get us to the city as quickly as possible. Once there we will get you seen, and have those injuries tended to. You will find Syliras quite hospitable, as it always has been to the many outsiders that come from afar, both by land and sea." his words continued as he pulled upon the reigns, preparing the horse to move out. Once they got going it wouldn't be more than a bell before they reached the main gates, assuming no other obstacles presented themselves.

[Faraluun]

With determination, he gripped the leather straps Xalet offered him, and lifting an unsteady foot, he took a step on the stirrup. Even that small movement threatened to overwhelm him, and he gritted his teeth for a moment as a wave of weakness washed over him, threatening to topple him. Xalet, perhaps sensing his discomfiture, was quick to lend him help, supporting him from behind as he used the last dregs of his strength to swing his leg over the other side of the horse, and secure his foot in the stirrup there. Collapsing forward at last, Faraluun turned his head to face Xalet as he rested his cheek on the gentle slope of the equines neck, and wrapped his arms gently around it's neck.

"I'll not soon forget this service friend, thank you"

His words came out as scarcely a whisper, and around him he could feel the world swirl as darkness ate away at the edges of his conscious. Teal eyes disappeared as his eyes closed, and once more he lost himself into unconsciousness.

oocI apologize for taking so long, I shall try to post more regularly.

[Xalet]

Xalet's eyes swept over to the failing form of Faraluun, trying to ensure that he was at the very least still alive. As time passed the man's consciousness seemed to wane, until finally he was once more without his senses. As untrained in the ways of the medic as Xalet was, the page could only imagine this to spell disaster if time was not observed accordingly. This was enough to force the Akalak to quicken his pace as much as could be maintained. Fast enough to decrease the distance between them and the city walls with haste, but slow enough to maintain a control upon the horse that had already demonstrated it's displeasure with it's particular riding partner.

Despite any previous history that Xalet and the equine had, the horse seemed passive enough about carrying Faraluun, a blessing for their travel. Though the course was tough during portions with steep inclines or declines, a steady hand and the desperation to complete his task had Xalet focused on success. The profile of the city laid in view, and a wave of relief passed over the youthful page. He turned to his unresponsive rider, seeing his breath was still with him. "We are almost there. It will not be long now. After a bit of tending a good meal is in order. My Patron has said that to heal you must eat hearty."

Although Xalet spoke, he was unsure if the mysterious traveler was able enough to hear him. As they grew closer to the main gate, Xalet raised his arm in an attempt to gain the attention of the Knights which stood near it's front. Noticing the page with a stranger in tow upon his horse, two Knights approached, asking for an explanation, but Xalet had one lacking a great many details. A man was found in the woods, injured by an animal. That was all Xalet could offer, and although the Knights remained cautious about such a person, his injuries seemed too genuine to be inflicted in order to infiltrate the city.

OOCHey no problem. I thought I would end my post there, giving you the chance to interact further if you want, or fast forward to perhaps awakening within a medic cot. Xalet would still be nearby completing paperwork if so. Whatever you wish to do .