Closed Doggy Dog Style (Wrenmae)

[Imass]

Spring 71, 513
1.5 sun's rotation north of Ravok

Earlier the day before, the Akalak sold his sword to Ravokian merchants on a mission to Nyka. It was considered a death job, because news had hit that the plague reached Nyka. This meant only one thing in Garonn's heart: Murdock was in Nyka. He cared not for infection risks. The Skeptic turned out to be a true opportunist, because he jumped on the job regardless of the consequence. Most spoiled Ravokians don't have the courage to do the hard jobs anyways. He didn't care what he had to do to kill Wrenmae. There was no reason in his thoughts. No logic. He didn't care about the plague. He just wanted to kill the 'motherpetcher'. Garonn still had a problem with this man breathing. Whether Murdock realized who he was or not, words did not matter anymore.

Revenge is what fueled him to sell his word to a group of merchants. The fact it was a mission to acquire large amounts of gold made it even better. Garonn easily agreed with any venture to gain wealth that did not involve using violence. The merchant leader had wisdom and was tough as nails. The dark brother had no problem with the mission's purpose and would not only sell his sword, but also his loyalty; not only would he take actions to protect the lives of the caravan, but he would also take actions in the benefit of the caravan's goals. Despite his newly-bought comrades, the Knight would let none stand in his way to revenge.

Garonn was assigned the task of point guard. It was the most dangerous job of the lot, because it was the most exposed position of the caravan. The point-men rode alone or in pairs. They scouted half a league in-front of the party in heavily wooded areas. Sometimes when crossing hills they would go much further to ensure safety. Yet other times, especially in queer Djed altered lands they stay within shouting distance. The tactics would change with the terrain, but today they where crossing a wood a day and a half ride from Ravok. Thus the Akalak found himself nearly a quarter of a mile ahead of the main group.

The Knight rode with a partner who guided him. Garonn had never been to Nyka and could not remember anything about it. He did not care about it though. His partner had been with the company for less than a year, but he knew the path already. He spoke with confidence no doubt, but Garonn knew that he hadn't seen much combat before.

"I've been with the company at least a year now..." the guard said as he pulled his horse towards Garonn. The Knight the not move one bit. He sat with a proper stance. Straight back, balancing on his feet and hips, and hands still with the reigns.

"... I should be with the actual caravan guard, not teaching you the way. I've done my grunt work..." he continued to rant.

Garonn carried a shortbow on his right shoulder for easy access with his left hand. There was a quiver of twenty arrows which slung from the horse in a manner for quick and secure acess. A large sword swung from his left hip. It was a broadsword and expertly fashioned to use on a horse. Should it be deemed necissary, the blade was built in a manner that was perfect to hack, slice, and pierce through enemies. In his belt was a dagger tucked away nicely. He had a weapon for three basic situations that could occur on the path to Nyka.

"Obviously, your boss doesn't think so. Change his perception of reality if that is what you truly want," Garonn said in an almost sarcastic tone to the man who had been gripping all day, "Go tell him who is the toughest, don't let him hold you back!"

There was awkward silence between the two for awhile. The young guard spoke up, "I think your right. I knew I should have said something to him this morning... I am going to go talk to him. Keep going north, north-west along the ridge. Maintain distance from the mountain for several leagues," and with that the man went galloping back through the trees in the forest.

Garonn stopped his horse and turned to see him leave. Not even a minute passed and the Knight was alone in the forest. The sounds of all the forest suggested it was teeming with life and brought a sense of comfort to the Akalak. Paranoia never let him go though, he always watched. A forest with life was always a deceptive sign.

"Wow... Ravokians are dumb as hell," Garonn said to himself as he nudged the horse with his left knee and drew his reigns. He continued forward at a easy pace.

[Wrenmae]

Wren, you're bleeding.

Thank you Zan, wonderful observation. Tell me, was it the stab wounds, the burns, or the near death that gave it away? Tell us your secret.

Oh gods, you're using sarcasm. It must be bad.

Only as bad as it feels, sarawanki.

I can feel it. It hurts a lot.

Oh. Yes. Well.

You didn't finish that thought.

Didn't I? Petch off then...I don't feel like thinking completely.

The horse moved of its own accord, plodding along the path forward. Wren leaned over its neck, blood dripping from an open hand to lay a trail of splashed ruby behind him.

He'd used the remains of the medical supplies he'd taken from Nyka, but the poorly wrapped bandages had soaked through with blood. His weapons were behind him, only the rapier graced his waist.

The bandits had been well trained and paid, it was any wonder he wasn't dead. There was lesson in that...lessons throughout the last few seasons he should have heeded better. Caught by Trente in the alley, Nearly killed by Imass in the dungeon, and now almost ended by cutthroats. Perfect. Pure perfect...he wasn't an immortal mage, he was as frail as anyone else.

Why did it take so much pain for him to learn that?

His horse cantered out of a low hanging bough of evergreen, crossing paths with Garonn's horse and stopping, regarding the other animal calmly. Wren muttered to himself, his face not his own, his body bleeding, and his strength waning.

Looking up with blurring eyes he saw a face in blue, a horse...another traveler.

An Akalak.

"Ho, traveler," Wren called out to him wearily, straining to sit up straight in his saddle, "Tell me true, am I on the road to Ravok?"

A desperate chuckle bubbled from his lips and fell flat. He wasn't dying, not anymore, but poor treatment for his wounds had certainly weakened him. He hadn't much djed to use and certainly hoped he hadn't stumbled in with bandits.

"I apologize for my appearance," he muttered, wiping his damp brow, "I had a run in with men not so honorable as to give a fellow a fighting chance."

[Imass]

A horse cantered from the tree-lined horizon. The Akalak tensed up at the sight of another man. Instinct kicked in and he responded by clenching the shortbow at his arm. Gripping the riser with his left hand, he strung the weapon with an arrow. He drew the string back to his ear in one motion. He closed his left eye and stared down the haft of the weapon. He hadn't practiced his bownmanship for awhile so he began to sweat. Garonn tensed up with hostile anticipation with the stranger's presence.

"Halt or I'll shoot," despite the man's friendly words the Knight responded by pure instinct. He did not know any other course of action. There was no time to think for him, "I represent the Ravokian merchant caravan to Nyka... Be ye friend or be ye foe? If you be foe, then draw your steel and take action!" The Akalak's scorched face glowed with intensity. His light, golden eyes started at the man with smoldering persistence.

Garonn noticed that the man was wounded. Blood soaked bandages were visible on the man even from the distance. He also suggested that he was ambushed. The Skeptic didn't even give the man a chance to respond to his first hail before shouting, "Who are you with?!? How can I be certain this isn't a trap?!?"

[Wrenmae]

"Peace," Wren muttered, pulling back the reins of his horse to stop the creature from continuing, "I just survived an assault, I don't intend to throw myself into another one."

He looked up, focusing a bit, holding out both hands, palms front. He didn't recognize the brutally scarred Akalak, but there was something innately familiar about him. Then and again, Imass had been a blue Akalak so there were bound to be veins of familiarity.

"I'm a friend, bound from Nyka to Ravok," Wren said with a disarming smile, pushing back the hood on his cloak, "Either shoot me or put down your bow, doesn't look comfortable to keep it tensed up like that." He wore long blond hair and a startlingly young face, albiet drawn with pain. It was hard to remember his old face now, mostly he improvised.

The horse nickered, biting at a bit of tall grass and Wren dismounted, stumbling beside the horse and to his knees. Holding up his wounded arm, he began painstakingly unwrapping the bandages.

"If you mean the bandits, the only reason I'm here is because I left them behind." He gestured over his shoulder and then indicated the blade at his side, "You know, not breathing. If this was a trap, I've have sprung it by now...worry not, friend. This is just a lucky coincidence of meeting. I'm injured, you're in a position to help."

He paused looking up at the Akalak through the glare of sun, "Unless I can do something for you?"

[Imass]

Garonn accepted the man's words at face value despite an incredible sense of skepticism in his heart. He immediately released the tension on his bow as soon as the man dismounted. He placed the arrow on his lap. The wounded man mentioned bandits, suggesting that he killed all of them. This fact the knight could not accept. No matter how hard he tried, his mind could not wrap itself around this declaration. There where no visible blood stains on his horse and he had no weapons, but a rapier. Just the fact he carried such a weapon proved in the eyes of Garonn that the man was either lying or not telling the whole truth.

The Knight remained on his horse with bow in hand, "I am known as Garonn to enemies and allies," he started, "I do not subscribe to the social customs of any nation. I do not adhere to any of the economic policies of any institution," the Knight paused and gauged the man's reaction. He wanted everything to be up front and clear.

"My expertise is in soldiering and performing dangerous missions. I do know the way to Ravok as well. I can do many things for you. All I want from you potentially is gold in exchange for a service," the swordsman shifted in the saddle, "If you want my service it will cost you, but I aim to please. If you have a problem with me and what I stand for, then pop it off NOW! Don't hold it in, while I am sitting right here in front of you,"

The Knight prepared his mind and body for anything. He anticipated hostility and place his hand near the arrow in order to shoot if the Wrenmae's actions deemed it necessary.

[Wrenmae]

Pulling the cloak off of him, the hypnotist hung it over the horse. Beneath, his body was badly bandaged, linens pulled around his neck, his shoulders, down one arm, and around his ribs. Across the right side of his body, a vivid raised tattoo pushed and moved across his skin, peeking between bandages...the shape of an ever raging black wave.

"I have a little coin," Wren admitted with a shrug, "But precious little to offer I fear, especially if I hope to make any safe lodging when I reach Ravok...of course if you can straighten the bandages on my arm, I would be grateful. You can see they've gotten a bit loose."

He offered the arm toward Garonn, still taking no steps towards him. The mercenary was cautious, and with good reason. Garonn...not Imass. So, just a lookalike then.

"That's dangerous of you," he offered the ex-knight, raising an eyebrow, "Adhering to no city, I mean. Men who claim themselves beholden to none often find another's will put upon them. Knights pray to whatever keeps them strong and their justice, Zeltivans value knowledge, and Sunberthians value freedom. Everyone in the world comes from somewhere or owes allegiance to something...but it is not for me to tell you how to live."

He slumped a bit, catching himself on the saddle and wincing, "I'm in hardly a position to lecture you anyways, hmm?" A chuckle, strained, and then he pulled the horse toward Garonn. "The price of your services...what will it run me? I need to rebandage my wound and find my way to Ravok...two tasks, I pray you not ask for much...I'm not a man of many means."

[Imass]

The Knight nodded and spun off his saddle. Landing strongly on his feet, he took a moment to stretch and walked over to the stranger. He wanted to look calm and collective as not to frighten a potential customer. He had absolutely no fear of the man, but he needed to show respect. Although Garonn would champion his ideals until the bitter end like Imass his brother, he understood the need for civil non-violent financial transactions. When Wrenmae mentioned freedom, the Knight remembered his own self-realization of liberty.

Garonn laughed and stared at the wounded man. He slung the bow back on his right shoulder. Slowly and silently he approached. Drawing forth the dagger on his belt, the Knight stepped right up to the man, "Don't worry I'll help you this time," he smiled grotesquely in his own personal humor. Despite his own skepticism he realized that he was on a whole another level than this man. He was talking like a liar in the Akalak's mind. He was worried about petty bullshyke institutions like Syliras or maybe even Ravok; that was his destination after all. Maybe he over analyzed the situation, but Garonn was on a whole other level mentally than this man. He was caught up on something, he speculated.

The Knight brought the dagger close and sliced the bandage on Wren's arm. He looked straight in Wren's eyes with passive hostility. The Akalak was trying to play eye game's with the man. He tried to force the man to look else where, even though he had a smile on his face. The scorched skin on his left face was glistening with sweat, "Understand why I do this," he slowly brought the dagger down to the wounded strangers ribs and slipped the cold blade near the bandages on the wound. He held the blade there still as a cold ice-cube, "I am an ambitious man and have many talents. Think about everything you just mentioned about cities... They are all groups of idiots all using outdated methods to hold power, think about it, why would I fellow the directions and established rules of stupid humans who think they know something--"

Suddenly the Akalak sliced the bandage without warning with his dagger. He jerked his arm fast and with compulsion as if he was ripping Wren's throat out. The edge of the dagger however was so sharp that it cut easily without any trouble. The man probably felt nothing, unless he was too weak, "The moment someone tells me they know the truth, then I tell them bullshyke! The moment you think you know something you are wrong! hahahaha!" Garonn waved his dagger in a circle with his gaze steady on Wrenmae, "That includes each and ever city government in Mizahar..."

The Knight slowly ambled back to his horse and opened the saddle bag. Producing a field bandage (it was more like a discarded, large scrap of tan fabric than a proper dressing), "I plan to become a wealthy man and I plan to do it on my own terms," he smiled genuinely now in a sub-hostile type of way, "I can do a lot of things for you, if you can understand what I am trying to tell you,"

[Wrenmae]

"Perhaps," the hypnotist muttered, letting Garonn slash the bandages off of him. "Outdated but effective. Obviously I'm no man of either city, else I'd be there, but I have enough wherewithall to flow with the river's current. Moving against catches too much attention. I'd prefer to know my enemies before I strike them rather than let them know me before I meet them."

He did not waver under Garonn's gaze, not at first. But the thought occurred to him that this scarred creature might actually feel hostile toward someone ready to meet him in a full confrontation. In the end, he looked away...but did not wince when Garonn sliced the bandage off his chest.

The wounds in his shoulder were deep, a blade had cut there, and there were shallow cuts across his chest. Here, latticed scars ran criss crossed courses along his skin. Lines of torture. On his upper chest, a black wave seemed to shimmer and move across his skin angrily, the mark of something furious.

"So you're something of a skeptic," Wren called out to him as he went through his saddle bags, "The moment someone thinks they know it all, they leave themselves open to be taken advantage of by someone who knows better. I can respect that."

Garonn approached him with the bandages, and the mage smiled through the sheen of sweat on his face, "Don't suppose you're up for being hired, are you?"