"I wouldn't kill him," Iolan said, watching her go, "just wound him a bit. You want witnesses around for that. Word travels faster."
He need not have bothered though, he realised, as she had walked away the moment she'd spoken. His blood boiled at that and he ground his dentures til they creaked and tore at his jaw, spitting hatefully after her. Damned nob-looking, half trained prigs with their shiny weapons and spotless gear, he thought, he ought to put a bullet in her and spread her across the roadside for the pissing crows to peck at. Walk away from him,would she? The bloody cheek of it. Emperor, he needed a drink! Growling and grumbling to himself, he entertained a small smile that neither had noticed that he hadn’t cocked the weapon, and stomped along as the caravan rumbled into motion. If she wanted to stand back there in the dust, then that was her business, but he could see the road perfectly well from one side where he didn't have to step over horseshit every ten paces. Besides, most traps tended to hit the first and last wagons in line, the better to block the road. If they didn't know that then they could damn well find out for themselves.
For all the milling and pissing about though, the day passed more or less without incident. Damp, cold and smelling of rot as it was, the road was relatively well kept, but it made him smile whenever the stunted bastards stumbled over a pothole they hadn't been watching for. It brought a tear to the eye, it truly did. Their progress was slow, but steady, and they seldom stopped except to navigate an awkward patch of road. Whenever they stopped, Iolan always stepped off the road and into the lee of any nearby tree, rock or hedge to listen for anything suspect. Roads were never well patrolled at the best of times and out here in the hills even less so. You kept your eyes open or you died, simple as.
The trip was also blessedly free of people bothering him. The dwarves kept to themselves because he was the wrong height and his employer kept her distance too, though whether from disdain or some other reason, he did not care. His leg ached, but then it always did in the damp and he shoved that aside like so many other things that he disliked. The constant motion kept his mind mercifully blank and free of dreams, and he focused on each moment as the day passed in one long, dull haze. The only real moment of excitement happened when they turned a corner and half a dozen pheasants took off at their approach. Some of the younger guards fired with bows and missed, their shots falling short. Iolan steadied himself, took aim and fired, reloading quickly and firing again before the birds were out of range. Two shots, two birds down. Ignoring the daggers being stared at him, he reloaded his weapon on the move and stomped away to retrieve them for later. He didn't strictly need them, as he had rations enough and was careful of his shot, but too much of that dried crap shredded your guts and it was the principle of the thing. By the time they'd stopped for the night, he had a brace of rabbits to add to the pot too, if only to show up the youngsters again.
As dark was falling, the carts pulled in to a clearing off the road between the trees and Iolan was happy to follow them. Stepping once again into a handy shadow, he dropped his pack by his foot and took watch, while the rest went about the business of rubbing down the horses and greasing the wheels and whatever else it was that carters did of a night. He paid them little mind beyond listening and ensuring that they kept their stubby, chipped mitts off his gear and his grub. After all, it was the simplest way to ensure that everyone was happy.
Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
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Iolan Kephla
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- Name: Iolan Kephla
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Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
Ysoria was judgemental. Most never saw it. She tended towards quiet and straightforward, keeping watch until and unless someone needed some prodding. Every choice Iolan would make from one shit part of Umora to the other, she would watch. She would make notes. she would ultimately weigh whether or not she thought him good enough, and safe enough to stay on with the team.
She didn't quite know what to think of him. So she didn't. She did, however, judge. Quietly.
The first time she approached anyone for conversation, it was the caravan master's wife: there were five of them, altogether, all related. It wasn't uncommon for western Apthoni caravans to be full of dwarves and led by other species; who was going to trust a dwarf to lead a caravan? They'd probably steal some of the goods off to their underground warrens. No, what dwarven caravans there were had no greater company to look after them, and as a result were small, local affairs. It was Ysoria's guess that this group was set up specially for some trade bargain, and that the master had hired local to take care of it. Dwarves were unreasonably prickly, sometimes, about doing trade without any dwarven representatives.
The wife was middle-aged, as such things were for elves, and preparing supper. Ysoria, unburdened by things like weapons, had niceties to make eating more palatable while on the road. She was no chef, but she was more than capable of following well-known recipes to make delicious food on the go -- and over half of that was carrying spices. She offered some of her spices -- "Don't have much," she said, which was a lie -- and as a result gained favor that had been denied at their last-minute addition.
"I'm sure this will taste wonderful to go along with the game your associate shot down!" The wife was enthused.
"Oh," Ysoria said. "Uh. Right."
Iolan had not been included on purpose, but she supposed the caravan master's wife would expect, after such an overture, to take her tax from Ysoria's traveling companion.
Ysoria was practical. She hadn't liked the waste of ammunition, especially given that she was fairly sure the gun he used was too powerful on such small critters; part of the meat would be wasted or ruined -- but it had made an impression on the dwarves, which warmed her a little.
"The caravan master's wife is making dinner. I gave her spices that would go well with rabbit," was Ysoria's opening salvo, as she stared at his gun.
She didn't quite know what to think of him. So she didn't. She did, however, judge. Quietly.
The first time she approached anyone for conversation, it was the caravan master's wife: there were five of them, altogether, all related. It wasn't uncommon for western Apthoni caravans to be full of dwarves and led by other species; who was going to trust a dwarf to lead a caravan? They'd probably steal some of the goods off to their underground warrens. No, what dwarven caravans there were had no greater company to look after them, and as a result were small, local affairs. It was Ysoria's guess that this group was set up specially for some trade bargain, and that the master had hired local to take care of it. Dwarves were unreasonably prickly, sometimes, about doing trade without any dwarven representatives.
The wife was middle-aged, as such things were for elves, and preparing supper. Ysoria, unburdened by things like weapons, had niceties to make eating more palatable while on the road. She was no chef, but she was more than capable of following well-known recipes to make delicious food on the go -- and over half of that was carrying spices. She offered some of her spices -- "Don't have much," she said, which was a lie -- and as a result gained favor that had been denied at their last-minute addition.
"I'm sure this will taste wonderful to go along with the game your associate shot down!" The wife was enthused.
"Oh," Ysoria said. "Uh. Right."
Iolan had not been included on purpose, but she supposed the caravan master's wife would expect, after such an overture, to take her tax from Ysoria's traveling companion.
Ysoria was practical. She hadn't liked the waste of ammunition, especially given that she was fairly sure the gun he used was too powerful on such small critters; part of the meat would be wasted or ruined -- but it had made an impression on the dwarves, which warmed her a little.
"The caravan master's wife is making dinner. I gave her spices that would go well with rabbit," was Ysoria's opening salvo, as she stared at his gun.
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Iolan Kephla
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- Name: Iolan Kephla
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Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
Even the dusk here was inferior, he thought, listening to her approach; it was just wet and cold, stinking of mud like everything else. Not like home, but then nowhere was like home any more. Even home had stopped feeling like that eventually. He stifled those thoughts as she approached, concentrating on the sounds of her breathing and her footfalls. She wanted something, that much was plain, otherwise she'd never have approached him. It wasn't of her own volition either, he assumed, as she'd kept watching him throughout the journey and she'd done a sterling job of keeping her distance so far, so why change her pattern now? He didn't respond immediately to her question either, but when she didn't move to say any more, he shrugged.
"And you're telling me this, why?"
He knew perfectly well what she was suggesting, but it had been a long, boring day and if she wanted something, then she could ask for it like everyone else. He'd be damned if he was going to offer her anything with the way she carried herself. Uptight noble filth, spitting on him every chance she got, why the hell should he? She wasn't even paying him, not yet at any rate, but she'd still stare down her bloody nose at him. Watching him, judging him, she wasn't a fighter, but she'd still mouth off at him about his weapon? To hell with her. To hell with all of them! They wouldn't last pissing time in a battle, any of them, who the hell were they to judge him, the lazy, feckless bastards? Working his jaw soundlessly, he forced himself to remain still and waited, watching the approach.
"And you're telling me this, why?"
He knew perfectly well what she was suggesting, but it had been a long, boring day and if she wanted something, then she could ask for it like everyone else. He'd be damned if he was going to offer her anything with the way she carried herself. Uptight noble filth, spitting on him every chance she got, why the hell should he? She wasn't even paying him, not yet at any rate, but she'd still stare down her bloody nose at him. Watching him, judging him, she wasn't a fighter, but she'd still mouth off at him about his weapon? To hell with her. To hell with all of them! They wouldn't last pissing time in a battle, any of them, who the hell were they to judge him, the lazy, feckless bastards? Working his jaw soundlessly, he forced himself to remain still and waited, watching the approach.
Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
Ysoria pursed her lips. Her eyes wandered up from the gun, and over him; she never quite made eye contact. The man had lived a hard life, and it was written all over his body. He was a mess. He was also a good shot. Considering her own adventures with attempting to learn how to shoot a crossbow (and subsequent ban from having anything to do with sharp objects), there was something to be said about that, something that made her uncomfortable.
She brushed at one of her sleeves, though her clothing was nigh impeccable. She looked good. She cut an impressive figure, for being on the trail for a full day. Yet, standing in the mud, everything cold and dreary and smelling the same but for the start of dinner, she was ... .
Best not to finish that thought.
"We should be gracious to our hosts."
She brushed at one of her sleeves, though her clothing was nigh impeccable. She looked good. She cut an impressive figure, for being on the trail for a full day. Yet, standing in the mud, everything cold and dreary and smelling the same but for the start of dinner, she was ... .
Best not to finish that thought.
"We should be gracious to our hosts."
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Iolan Kephla
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- Name: Iolan Kephla
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Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
“I am bein’ gracious,” he said, chuckling mirthlessly, “I’m standing here in the wet in the land of piss and shit after spending all day watching their arses, so they can sit and laugh at the smelly foreigner with the bad leg.”
He fought to keep his voice level towards the end of that sentence, only failing slightly in his efforts, and shifted his weight off the aforementioned leg for a moment, scanning the dusky shadows beyond for any signs of movement. The landscape around them was still, bar the sounds of the wildlife and the wind, but he’d snuck up on too many people to take that at face value. Smiling to himself, he shrugged, adjusting his grip on the rifle and flexing his fingers to keep the blood flowing.
“And I haven’t shot them either, just like you asked,” he said, “isn’t that gracious?”
Sighing, he turned back to face her, narrowing his eyes; he was sick of this game and he needed a drink and so many other things he’d never get and dammit if he was going to stand here swapping empty words with this one for spit. He felt his bile rising, but stamped on it for once, too weary to indulge it.
“But no, you want something more,” he said, “they always do. But they do not ask, no, they expect me to offer it. If you want something from me, then ask for it or take it and defend your claim. There is no mystery to it.”
He glanced back towards the road, deciding to let her off the hook for the time being. Without a drink in his hand the damned words just felt so...hollow...and heavy.
“Just make sure they dig the shot out before they cook them up. I can use them again.”
He fought to keep his voice level towards the end of that sentence, only failing slightly in his efforts, and shifted his weight off the aforementioned leg for a moment, scanning the dusky shadows beyond for any signs of movement. The landscape around them was still, bar the sounds of the wildlife and the wind, but he’d snuck up on too many people to take that at face value. Smiling to himself, he shrugged, adjusting his grip on the rifle and flexing his fingers to keep the blood flowing.
“And I haven’t shot them either, just like you asked,” he said, “isn’t that gracious?”
Sighing, he turned back to face her, narrowing his eyes; he was sick of this game and he needed a drink and so many other things he’d never get and dammit if he was going to stand here swapping empty words with this one for spit. He felt his bile rising, but stamped on it for once, too weary to indulge it.
“But no, you want something more,” he said, “they always do. But they do not ask, no, they expect me to offer it. If you want something from me, then ask for it or take it and defend your claim. There is no mystery to it.”
He glanced back towards the road, deciding to let her off the hook for the time being. Without a drink in his hand the damned words just felt so...hollow...and heavy.
“Just make sure they dig the shot out before they cook them up. I can use them again.”
Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
"You are possessed of common sense," Ysoria said, though her words were shadowed with an unspoken 'aren't you?'
She reached to take the game from him without squeamishness, though her grip was careful to make sure nothing that could possibly be described as filth got on her. "The caravan master's wife will be wanting to speak to you," she said. "They've little company that isn't short and foul of character."
She reached to take the game from him without squeamishness, though her grip was careful to make sure nothing that could possibly be described as filth got on her. "The caravan master's wife will be wanting to speak to you," she said. "They've little company that isn't short and foul of character."
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Iolan Kephla
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- Name: Iolan Kephla
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Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
"I very much doubt she'll be wanting to speak to me," he said, in return, "so much as speak at me."
He shifted his grip back to its proper position and settled back against his cover, eyes and ears moving and alert. Yes, he was going to have to deal with these people, and yes it was going to be highly insulting, but he wasn't so dim as to leave his post without someone relieving him first. No matter what the highborn wench was implying, they could ask all they wanted and until some stunted halfwit stinking of rat-piss ale and muck staggered over to take the watch. He shook himself from these thoughts, bringing himself back to the present, less pleasant, moment.
"But I'm going nowhere til I'm relieved," he said, clenching his jaw. "Someone must keep watch."
It wasn't an opinion, it wasn't a prejudice, it was fact. If they didn't have someone on watch, they may as well all sleep with their pants around their ankles and their arses raised for whoever happened to wander by. That was the long and the short of it, and if they were lucky, it would be a short death. But if he had his way, he was going to get a shot off first. Many a would be assassin had died that way, and he smiled a crooked smile at the thought, as he always did. Such thoughts kept a man warm. What thoughts kept this woman warm, he wondered.
"Or is that an order?"
He shifted his grip back to its proper position and settled back against his cover, eyes and ears moving and alert. Yes, he was going to have to deal with these people, and yes it was going to be highly insulting, but he wasn't so dim as to leave his post without someone relieving him first. No matter what the highborn wench was implying, they could ask all they wanted and until some stunted halfwit stinking of rat-piss ale and muck staggered over to take the watch. He shook himself from these thoughts, bringing himself back to the present, less pleasant, moment.
"But I'm going nowhere til I'm relieved," he said, clenching his jaw. "Someone must keep watch."
It wasn't an opinion, it wasn't a prejudice, it was fact. If they didn't have someone on watch, they may as well all sleep with their pants around their ankles and their arses raised for whoever happened to wander by. That was the long and the short of it, and if they were lucky, it would be a short death. But if he had his way, he was going to get a shot off first. Many a would be assassin had died that way, and he smiled a crooked smile at the thought, as he always did. Such thoughts kept a man warm. What thoughts kept this woman warm, he wondered.
"Or is that an order?"
Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
Ysoria looked for a moment like she was witholding the most passive-aggressive sigh in all of existence, but then the moment passed and she smiled. "Come now, even filthy halfmen can keep watch. They might be stupid, but they wouldn't neglect basic necessities -- come, there is a sensible elf leading this caravan, and I know he wouldn't have traveled here without a suitable flock of guards. Now, if it makes you feel better, you can check the perimeter and if you see anything out of sorts you just let me know, and I'll see that justice is done."
She held out her hand to him. "Unless you're looking for a way to avoid your duty and risk maligning our reputation, which I am sure you would never ever do."
She held out her hand to him. "Unless you're looking for a way to avoid your duty and risk maligning our reputation, which I am sure you would never ever do."
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Iolan Kephla
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- Name: Iolan Kephla
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Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
Iolan stared at the offered hand for a moment longer than he should have, then shook his head, straightening to look his employer clean in the eye. No wonder the stuntys didn't trust her kind, he thought, if that was her logic, but then, the weren't the ones paying him. But he was the one protecting them, and he turned and spat, working his jaw to keep his teeth aligned.
"No need," he said, his voice not quite as friendly as he'd intended. "The road traffic here makes the ground useless for tracks, and moving about will only let anyone watching know what we're about. And there are three of us on watch, Miss, begging your pardon, one for each approach, and a second man ready to take over when our watch is done. Mine is off taking a piss, see, so I'm stuck here til he gets back. Doing my duty, and all that."
He felt his temper rising steadily as he spoke, and his voice dropped to a low growl before he got a hold of it and steadied himself. It wasn't her fault that she didn't know, he told himself, but that didn't mean he had to stand there and put up with being called a faithless simpleton either. She hired him to help her hunt, and a hunter who didn't have his or her wits about them didn't live for very long. If she thought she could spin words around him and shaft him at the end of this, then he was happy to disappoint her. And elves? They were as bad as the high borns, even the lowest of them. And he had to talk to them? He spotted a shape moving back through the trees and he tapped the butt of his rifle, drawing the dwarf's attention.
"Shouldn't be long now though," he said, as the dwarf approached, "then we can see to your reputation."
The dwarf didn't come up to where they were, but rather stopped at another position, slightly concealed from the approach that they were watching and nodded slightly to Iolan. Picking up his burdens with practiced ease, he slung his rifle and stretched, gesturing for the lady to lead the way. Maybe a spell near the warmth of the fire would improve his mood, after all; stranger things had happened.
"Lead on then," he said.
"No need," he said, his voice not quite as friendly as he'd intended. "The road traffic here makes the ground useless for tracks, and moving about will only let anyone watching know what we're about. And there are three of us on watch, Miss, begging your pardon, one for each approach, and a second man ready to take over when our watch is done. Mine is off taking a piss, see, so I'm stuck here til he gets back. Doing my duty, and all that."
He felt his temper rising steadily as he spoke, and his voice dropped to a low growl before he got a hold of it and steadied himself. It wasn't her fault that she didn't know, he told himself, but that didn't mean he had to stand there and put up with being called a faithless simpleton either. She hired him to help her hunt, and a hunter who didn't have his or her wits about them didn't live for very long. If she thought she could spin words around him and shaft him at the end of this, then he was happy to disappoint her. And elves? They were as bad as the high borns, even the lowest of them. And he had to talk to them? He spotted a shape moving back through the trees and he tapped the butt of his rifle, drawing the dwarf's attention.
"Shouldn't be long now though," he said, as the dwarf approached, "then we can see to your reputation."
The dwarf didn't come up to where they were, but rather stopped at another position, slightly concealed from the approach that they were watching and nodded slightly to Iolan. Picking up his burdens with practiced ease, he slung his rifle and stretched, gesturing for the lady to lead the way. Maybe a spell near the warmth of the fire would improve his mood, after all; stranger things had happened.
"Lead on then," he said.
Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
Ysoria tipped her head to the side. She was not usually one given watch duty, and if she was it was usually with a partner. She was aware that she was not trusted to defend anything, though she did make a decent enough set of eyes. She'd long ago foregone even the slightest hint of interest in the details that went into defense, and maybe because those she'd been around were particularly competent or lucky, she'd never had cause to learn.
So, towards him, she scoffed. "You are much too serious about this, don't you think?" She turned to look at where he was looking, all mildness and lightness as she continued. "Though I appreciate your eagerness on the job, there's no need to be so dedicated; I'm quite sure we'll be fine. I do appreciate having you along." She smiled at him, and it was mostly not patronizing, before turning to walk back to the caravan leader's wife's fire.
So, towards him, she scoffed. "You are much too serious about this, don't you think?" She turned to look at where he was looking, all mildness and lightness as she continued. "Though I appreciate your eagerness on the job, there's no need to be so dedicated; I'm quite sure we'll be fine. I do appreciate having you along." She smiled at him, and it was mostly not patronizing, before turning to walk back to the caravan leader's wife's fire.
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Iolan Kephla
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- Name: Iolan Kephla
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Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
"Sounds like it," he said, spitting. "Feel right appreciated, I do."
He stomped as quietly as he could manage behind his employer, quietly imagining the look of surprise she'd have on her face if he shot her now. In fact, it would probably win him points with the caravan owners too, now that he thought about it, there was no way that they could stand supping with the catty bitch, surely? Still, he drew some small satisfaction in knowing that even with all of his 'unnecessary' gear, he still managed to move more quietly than this woman. Side stepping twigs and rocks, he settled for a hooded glare as he followed her to the fire, where the caravan owner's wife was sitting, awaiting his hard caught food. Dropping his belongings politely by a handy spot, he nodded briefly to the others, and sat down carefully, keeping his rifle close to hand.
Nodding to the others, he worked his jaw painfully, drawing his kukri and skinning the other rabbit with practised ease, anticipating the look of distaste on the woman's face with something approaching satisfaction. Belittle his skills, would she? Not needed? Bloody hell, by that logic nobody should do anything until shit went to pot and then it should have magically already been done. He focused on the job, setting the pelt aside and digging out the bullet before passing the limp, skinned rabbit to the woman by the fire.
Settling back against a handy rock so that he could sleep sitting up, he drew the rifle into his lap and unloaded it, carefully saving the powder and the shot and storing them away. Dismantling the rifle handily, he set the pieces down on some dry tarp from his pack and began cleaning and oiling the parts.
He stomped as quietly as he could manage behind his employer, quietly imagining the look of surprise she'd have on her face if he shot her now. In fact, it would probably win him points with the caravan owners too, now that he thought about it, there was no way that they could stand supping with the catty bitch, surely? Still, he drew some small satisfaction in knowing that even with all of his 'unnecessary' gear, he still managed to move more quietly than this woman. Side stepping twigs and rocks, he settled for a hooded glare as he followed her to the fire, where the caravan owner's wife was sitting, awaiting his hard caught food. Dropping his belongings politely by a handy spot, he nodded briefly to the others, and sat down carefully, keeping his rifle close to hand.
Nodding to the others, he worked his jaw painfully, drawing his kukri and skinning the other rabbit with practised ease, anticipating the look of distaste on the woman's face with something approaching satisfaction. Belittle his skills, would she? Not needed? Bloody hell, by that logic nobody should do anything until shit went to pot and then it should have magically already been done. He focused on the job, setting the pelt aside and digging out the bullet before passing the limp, skinned rabbit to the woman by the fire.
Settling back against a handy rock so that he could sleep sitting up, he drew the rifle into his lap and unloaded it, carefully saving the powder and the shot and storing them away. Dismantling the rifle handily, he set the pieces down on some dry tarp from his pack and began cleaning and oiling the parts.
Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
The man seemed to have some sort of problem. Ysoria figured it was mostly due to his numerous physical deformities (that'd make anyone grumpy), and thus not directly aimed at her, but she couldn't quite shake a sneaking suspicion that he might not like her at all. It was quite frankly ridiculous, since she'd been nothing but polite -- even kind! -- to him, when she'd no reason to, but there it was. Perhaps he disliked anyone who was yet whole and hale, though since she was missing an eye she'd figured maybe they might yet bond over that. He had to know that if he couldn't get over himself he'd lose out on this opportunity. . .well, maybe not. She'd have to have a word with him after the trip. He was like some crab. No wonder he had such social issues, the way he scuttled about.
She threw him a brief frown as they approached the fire, hoping it conveyed her need for him to act normally before she turned a bright and cheery smile upon the wife. "Here he is," she announced, taking a seat, while their host took the rabbit gingerly.
The wife did not seem to be new to fresh meat; given that they spent most of their life on the road, it was likely that they often supplemented their meals as such. Given that she'd no attendants at hand, and a passle of men who had Important Jobs to attend to, she was likely high up on the rotation of the cook job. Given the ink stains on her fingers, though, Ysoria suspected her usual efforts were much more academic in nature.
The wife seemed to go out of her way to ignore Iolan's grumpiness, and soon Ysoria had started a light, pleasant, utterly meaningless conversation with her -- whose name was Pippa -- while she deftly prepared their evening meal. It didn't take long, and soon they all had a tin plate in hand as Pippa carefully doled out their rations; wise to the way of fighting men, she gave a larger portion to Iolan and her husband than to the other elves and Ysoria.
With the womens' chatter disrupted, a younger man -- Pippa's son -- spoke up, almost too quiet to hear: "you look like you've been in some battles," spoken to Iolan with the typical teenager's disregard for such things as tact, all the while trying to look disinterested and failing mightily.
She threw him a brief frown as they approached the fire, hoping it conveyed her need for him to act normally before she turned a bright and cheery smile upon the wife. "Here he is," she announced, taking a seat, while their host took the rabbit gingerly.
The wife did not seem to be new to fresh meat; given that they spent most of their life on the road, it was likely that they often supplemented their meals as such. Given that she'd no attendants at hand, and a passle of men who had Important Jobs to attend to, she was likely high up on the rotation of the cook job. Given the ink stains on her fingers, though, Ysoria suspected her usual efforts were much more academic in nature.
The wife seemed to go out of her way to ignore Iolan's grumpiness, and soon Ysoria had started a light, pleasant, utterly meaningless conversation with her -- whose name was Pippa -- while she deftly prepared their evening meal. It didn't take long, and soon they all had a tin plate in hand as Pippa carefully doled out their rations; wise to the way of fighting men, she gave a larger portion to Iolan and her husband than to the other elves and Ysoria.
With the womens' chatter disrupted, a younger man -- Pippa's son -- spoke up, almost too quiet to hear: "you look like you've been in some battles," spoken to Iolan with the typical teenager's disregard for such things as tact, all the while trying to look disinterested and failing mightily.
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Iolan Kephla
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- Name: Iolan Kephla
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Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
With the rifle in his hands it was easier somehow, it was all easier; the damned nobs and their judging glances, the whole damned parade, it all went away and he could just breathe and be. It wouldn't last, he knew; it never did. Rest didn't cure it. Drink didn't cure it. Food didn't cure it. It just sat there in his gut, gnawing at him, taunting him and welling up behind his eyes when he slept. But right then it was distant and the motions were simple, so he lifted and oiled each piece of the weapon carefully and lightly, cleaning off the dust from the road and the powder burns from the shots methodically, double checking each component. The road was filthy, men were filthy, but weapons were always kept clean. Carefully sliding each of the components together, he began to test and reassemble them piece by piece. He almost didn't notice when the food was passed out, but the lapse in conversation drew his attention. Sliding the last of the parts together, he checked that the mechanism worked smoothly and waited for the others to finish. Rising, he covered the rifle over to ward off the dust and took up his mug to be filled, noticing the plates that the others used.
"Thank you," he said to the woman, "hot food speeds a cold night."
Nodding to her, he returned to his place, glancing to be certain that all of his things were where he'd left them, his eyes straying to take in the positions of the guards. He heard the women talking about nothing and wondered how they could do it. What purpose did it serve beyond filling the silence? It let her pass the hours without having to speak to him, he realised, feeling eyes on him. It wasn't the elf woman, or the guards, they'd gotten bored of him, no, the gaze belonged to a younger looking elf by the fire. The gaze was nervous, but emboldened by boredom, Iolan noted, not looking directly at the boy. He would approach him soon, Iolan was sure of it. Sitting with exaggerated care, he sipped the broth and let the heat warm his hands. He looked up when the boy spoke to him, raising an eyebrow.
"That's what they tell me," he said, "I was too busy killing people to notice."
"Thank you," he said to the woman, "hot food speeds a cold night."
Nodding to her, he returned to his place, glancing to be certain that all of his things were where he'd left them, his eyes straying to take in the positions of the guards. He heard the women talking about nothing and wondered how they could do it. What purpose did it serve beyond filling the silence? It let her pass the hours without having to speak to him, he realised, feeling eyes on him. It wasn't the elf woman, or the guards, they'd gotten bored of him, no, the gaze belonged to a younger looking elf by the fire. The gaze was nervous, but emboldened by boredom, Iolan noted, not looking directly at the boy. He would approach him soon, Iolan was sure of it. Sitting with exaggerated care, he sipped the broth and let the heat warm his hands. He looked up when the boy spoke to him, raising an eyebrow.
"That's what they tell me," he said, "I was too busy killing people to notice."
Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
Iolan's words drew the attention of everyone sitting around the fire. Everyone had seen him, by then, and all'd wondered the same thing at one point or another; the adults were too polite (or too cynical) to ask, but none begrudged the young man his question or was wholly disinterested in the follow up. None of them, however, was willing to ask that following question, not with the considering way Ysoria was looking at Iolan, as if he'd stepped in something foul.
Lads were lads, even when feigning apathy. "What happened?" He asked.
Lads were lads, even when feigning apathy. "What happened?" He asked.
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Iolan Kephla
- Outsider
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Fri Jan 31, 2014 1:47 pm
- Name: Iolan Kephla
- Race: Human
Re: Of Blighted Dwarves and Unfriendly Wizards
The silence was very telling, Iolan thought, as was the look that his employer was giving him. Ancestors, they must have lead very boring lives up until now. Shrugging, he took a sip of his broth and savoured the taste, letting the silence stretch for a moment. In all honesty, he was wondering whether to humour the boy or just let it go. That was what the woman wanted, and that little thought settled the matter for him.
"Which time? There've been a few, lad," he said, swallowing loudly. "Time I got me teeth knocked out, I was scouting a camp and an axe near took my head off. Took my teeth and I blew a hole in his chest. Shot went clean through and killed his friend too. Shit way to die, and I could only eat soup til we found a set of pliers to get the damn shards out."
He took another sip of his broth, working his jaw slightly. That had been early on too, he remembered, and he still couldn't stand soup. He thought about it for a moment, and smiled, showing off his soup stained wooden teeth.
"Fingers I lost in knife fights here and there, but they lost worse. Took one bastard's eye and popped out another's kneecap. I can still hear him screaming," Iolan said with a smile. "Went down braying like a lame ox."
Taking another sip, he tapped his boot, swallowing. The memory sent an ache through his entire body, faces flashing into mind, but he forced them away, swallowing another mouthful.
"Lost this lump in an ambush," he said, after a moment, "after I beheaded a cavalry officer when he got thrown from his horse. That was a hell of a shot. Hit the horse through the front legs, it fell forwards and threw him at me. Got my knife out and split him though. Was so dazed from the blood I didn't feel the cannon shot. Took my leg clean off. Would've died too, if the captain hadn't cauterized it.Then we found out he sold us out, so I shot him."
"Which time? There've been a few, lad," he said, swallowing loudly. "Time I got me teeth knocked out, I was scouting a camp and an axe near took my head off. Took my teeth and I blew a hole in his chest. Shot went clean through and killed his friend too. Shit way to die, and I could only eat soup til we found a set of pliers to get the damn shards out."
He took another sip of his broth, working his jaw slightly. That had been early on too, he remembered, and he still couldn't stand soup. He thought about it for a moment, and smiled, showing off his soup stained wooden teeth.
"Fingers I lost in knife fights here and there, but they lost worse. Took one bastard's eye and popped out another's kneecap. I can still hear him screaming," Iolan said with a smile. "Went down braying like a lame ox."
Taking another sip, he tapped his boot, swallowing. The memory sent an ache through his entire body, faces flashing into mind, but he forced them away, swallowing another mouthful.
"Lost this lump in an ambush," he said, after a moment, "after I beheaded a cavalry officer when he got thrown from his horse. That was a hell of a shot. Hit the horse through the front legs, it fell forwards and threw him at me. Got my knife out and split him though. Was so dazed from the blood I didn't feel the cannon shot. Took my leg clean off. Would've died too, if the captain hadn't cauterized it.Then we found out he sold us out, so I shot him."