Sworded Tales

Borlak was also happy to realize that he wouldn’t be sleeping here on the field. Weeks on a trail that grew ever-more mired as he moved south throughout the early spring, in the company of the caravan that had also delivered Cheskith, had spelled nothing but weariness at the prospect.

Borlak betrayed a twinkle of amusement in his eyes and a slight upturn of his mouth at the solemnity of the reptilian’s reply.  In his quiet manner of speaking, he said in turn, “I am of the Vari tribe of the Sunar people.”  He looked around at those present, his dark-eyed gaze coming to rest on Marcus.  “I am good with a sword, fair with a bow, and I believe that the affinity that my people hold for our horses is common knowledge.” Continue reading

Pasts were not something Kurn wished to dwell on, nor were descriptions of deeds accomplished. Give him a task, and he would set to it. There was no firmer judge of a man than to observe him in such trials undertaken — he found it difficult to accept anything that was being said at more than face value and so paid it little heed. As to Erellia’s suggestion, he knew her ‘we’ did not include her, herself; there was little that already escaped her knowledge, so it seemed. Standing around making conversation wasn’t for him.

“Haron,” Kurn motioned the teen to join him as Kurn walked out from under the canopy and back into the rain. “We’re setting camp. Unburden the horses and canvas the gear.”

“Kurn, Haron, leave the horses as they are for now,” Erellia cut through the dampness with a firm tone of command, then her voice resumed its usual timbre, “If you would, please.” Continue reading

The lizardman threw a quizzical-looking glance toward the dark robed man as the human retreated somewhat from the gathering, acting as though he was far more chill than the rain alone could account for.

Sure enough, the Silveraen was curious about the situation; the fourth person to break away from the “silent stare” approach to introductions, but he’d backed off rather than joining in. The reptile couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts haunted that one… but resigned himself to the fact that this wasn’t an opportune moment to inquire.

Resolving to investigate the matter later, he swiftly returned his attention to the three-way exchange.

Erellia moved quietly about the canopy attending to minor details within the shelter and the small brazier that now burned with a welcoming light, a silent hostess to this most unusual gathering.  Nodding or smiling in gentle greeting, she welcomed each individual into the makeshift shelter as they approached. For those that offered, she would provide some small menial task to perform that would help add a relative state of comfort to the encampment. Overall however, she projected a sensation of tremendous patience and calm reserve, a typical trait of the long lived. There was a sense that she observed the interactions of the group with an almost purposeful delay in taking control of the situation. Continue reading

The lizardman suddenly found the conversation growing to be three-way; though more complicated for him personally, it was a welcome transition from the stolid silence that had suffused the gathering at first.

Taking advantage of the pause in which Borlak seemed to be gathering his thoughts, the Silveraean turned his calm attention upon Rôhn; he had scrutinized the Dwarf well enough earlier during the debacle with the horse, and so had no need to narrow his own eyes in return.

“That meeting has become an honored part of our own history; the Dwarves have proven to be true allies since that day,” he replied.  The words weren’t what he might have chosen in other circumstances, but he’d been on the surface long enough to recognize and return the more formal style of speech that was often used there.  Still, recognizing that the situation couldn’t stand entirely on formality, he slipped a bit back towards his more customary cadence.  “One day shall I look upon this relief, perhaps?  It would be a happy thing to see, I think.” Continue reading

Finishing the sip that he was taking, Borlak turned his dark brown eyes upon the person addressing him.  In his quiet manner, he replied, “Yes, I was approached and given an invitation that was just enticing enough to put the feet of my mount on a path that I had not intended.”

His head tilted slightly in thought, or maybe remembrance, a fond look sparkling in his gaze.  “As for home,” he continued, “You are correct that it is not the great city.  Nor is yours, I believe.” Continue reading

Not that Kurn expected anything would surprise Erellia, he looked to the Elven woman for her reaction to the arrival of the man that had just added his mount to the others and now approached the quick camp.  No weapons, simple ornamentation, robes and small fineries.  A mage then, or a priest of an order Kurn could not place by token.  The half-smile was genuine enough to prompt a nod of greeting from Kurn.  Words would certainly be exchanged soon enough.

The lizardman took up a patient vigil at the periphery of the tent, albeit safely clear of the deluge, as the tea brewed and the late arrivals filtered in.  He joined some of the rest in drying off through minor magic, invoked by little more than a couple of whispered syllables and a few quick pats of one hand across his scaled person. Continue reading

As the odd group assembled and then began preparing their makeshift shelter, an unassuming figure on horseback watched from a distance.  The times were perilous and a sure notion of the places one walked into was a precaution that was not a luxury.  Still, the hooded rider knew when to just let what may be run its course without excess planning and undue wariness.  He urged his riding steed to begin their descent down the rolling series of knolls, mindful of the slick grass and lifeless muddy patches which riddled the area. Continue reading

If this was his first meeting with the woman he knew as Erellia, Kurn  may have been taken aback that she readily knew the name of the handler he had brought along to assist with the horses.  In the way of things, he accepted that she knew the name in stride and did as she bid, first accepting Erellia’s mount, then making the offer to the dwarf, Katarina and Borlak.  “I will lead them, or you may ride them to Haron if you prefer.”  Continue reading

After the female on a buckskin horse arrives, a large shadow detaches itself from a rock not far away with a slight clink of metal.  The shadowy figure is covered in a body length cloak so near the color of the horse being ridden that their shapes merge eerily.  Pulling his hood back as he nears, a broad shouldered man materializes with raven black hair and skin the color of cinnamon.

The sharp gaze lingers on the group, granting a slight nod to the lizardman as the distance between them closes.  His clear voice rings out, Good day, milady, and to one and all.  Borlak Dotkina of the Sunar Tribe at your service.  Now have we all arrived?” Continue reading

At the approach of the priest upon foot and especially the mounted dancer, Kurn adjusts his position lest her mount misjudge its footing.  The campaigner steps with confident, measured steps until he is two paces aside and ahead of the noble matriarch and her mount, on the opposite side from the dwarf who may prove a danger to any near his horse as much himself.  He adjusts his position so as to stand with the matronly figure and primarily face the lizardman, priest and dancer.

Kurn nods not unkind greeting to the dancer’s introduction.  She was pleasant to look upon, but whatever brief flicker prompted his eye was subdued by the hardened impassiveness in his expression. Continue reading