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The Winds of Ysgard - Part One

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard looked back up at Thoros as the dragon spoke again, offering another nickname for him. At the sound of 'peregrine', Rikhard relaxed and nodded, managing a smile. Yes, that fit. He could be like the falcon, and soar away from his past and its troubles.

"I like that," he said aloud. "Thank you." He was quite grateful Thoros hadn't suggested 'rabbit'.

At Farrun's words, he turned and nodded. "Aye-aye, sir." It felt good to be able to say those words to a leader who seemed worthy of respect. He moved to retrieve Dushan and climbed into the saddle, waiting for Farrun's word.
 
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Gryphos

Dark Lord
At Farrun's words Bendalitz kicked Od into action. He trotted up near the front of the wagon. "Ready and eager. Let's go hunt some eggs."
 

Tom

Istari
Troia joined Einan in the courtyard, her stomach aflutter with what felt more like bats than butterflies. She dropped her hand onto Ari's neck, sinking her fingers into his thick fur to calm herself.

"Of course you look to the dog for fortitude." Einan rolled his eyes. "Why do you keep me around, Troia?"

"Because it's fun to torture you," she replied, but she slipped her other hand into his.

He glanced down at her, a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, but then his expression turned serious. She could feel her own amusement fade away as she studied the loaded wagon, the horses tacked up and ready to be ridden. So, it was to begin.
 

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
Addison gave the dragon's gigantic muzzle the closest to an embrace she could muster without inserting an arm into a nostril. She wondered if she later beast-talked a bird into landing on her shoulder, would the bird feel as safe being dwarfed in the same way.

When Farrun said it was time to go, Addison stepped back, but she wasn't about to leave Thoros' question unanswered. "Mind?" she asked playfully, hands on hips in mock indignation. "I'd've gone with 'prefer' meself."

Addison plotted a course for Mount Freckle, but her mount was not as eager to move so close to the dragon. Oh, a battle o' wills, is it? Addison replayed the hug in her mind, along with thoughts to reassure Mount Freckle that Thoros would not harm her. Her mare let out a "p-p-p-p-pbbh," then trotted over to where her frizzy-haired rider awaited.

Addison didn't ride far as she had to collect her bow and axe. Her axe did have a sling which allowed her to safely keep the large weapon on her back, but she decided to shoulder the bow and leave her axe with her bag. She placed her grappler on the cart as well, leaving herself with only immediate access to bow, arrows, and shockers in case of emergency.

"Ready," she called out, volleying onto her bareback mount as she spoke.
 
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DMThaane

Mystagogue
Loke untied Snorri and mounted, bringing the horse over to the dragon. He would need to become comfortable with great lizard eventually.

"It will be good to see the open road again."

He was almost surprised at his lack of any apprehension, not even at leaving Asbjorn behind. After all, he had never been much of a father, or much of anything besides a warrior.

Snorri shied away from the larger horses but Loke immediately brought him back into line. He did not like them either, but they would both need to become comfortable with such things. This would not be like it was before, with the Raiders, but he knew it where he was meant to be.

He turned to Farrun, smiling. "Let's have an adventure."
 

Tom

Istari
Wind was restless as Einan tried to swing into the saddle, shifting back and forth, tossing his head. Einan growled in annoyance and kicked his foot free of the stirrup; if the horse was too skittish to let him get a leg up, he wasn't going to risk the possibility of being dragged if Wind spooked.

Grasping Wind's reins, he glanced up at Thoros. He'd never get used to the drop in his stomach when the dragon was near. The urge to run and hide ran strong--Thoros was a wolf and he was a deer, and even though he knew the dragon would not kill humans (or elves), some ancient corner of his mind was having none of it. It recognized a predator when it saw one.

A whinny rang throughout the courtyard, and his head snapped up in time for him to see Troia’s mare, Goldmane, rise into a half-rear, eyes rolling in panic. Troia clung stubbornly to the reins from the ground. She appeared to be speaking to the horse, but Einan couldn’t hear what she was saying. Goldmane continued to shy, shaking her head and dancing away to the side whenever Troia tried to draw closer.

“Addison, can you help me?” Troia called, a note of desperation in her voice.
 

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
Addison turned to see Goldmane in a panic. She shot a look at the creature. Troia's mount. Addison recalled calling Troia "Princess" as she rose from the table moments ago.

Ye hear that, Goldmane? Ye got a princess on your back. Addison pictured Troia dressed like a princess--the image was only an exaggeration of the turquoise-embroidered outfit Troia had actually chosen. But there was another fallacy in the image: the lack of a dragon. Addison couldn't change that a dragon was there and the horse knew it, but the image in her head was a real place--the direction Addison was facing, with a castle in view and not a dragon.

She tightened her grip on the reins as a spark popped from her head. Mount Freckle was calm enough, but Goldmane... I can't bullshit ye into calming, can I now?

Addison concentrated harder. Her mental image was Goldmane taking a calm stroll beside Mount Freckle. A Princess and a Huntress. In the image, both ladies were dressed in their current armors. The dragon was there, but paying no mind to the riders or their mares. In the image, the dragon flew up, and the mares walked side by side and all was well.

Now to make truth of it.
Addison had Mount Freckle move to Goldmane's side.

"Ride at me side, Princess," Addison told Troia. "She's a wild one, that mare."
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard looked curiously at Addison, tilting his head as he spoke. "Why do you call her Princess?" Troia wasn't of royal descent, was she? Should he bow to her?
 

Tom

Istari
Goldmane calmed enough for Troia to get a leg up. She made it quick, not wanting to be caught half in the saddle if the mare should choose to spook again. Once up on Goldmane's back, she paused to get her bearings and her balance; Goldmane was tall, much taller than the mountain ponies that she was used to riding, and her back was narrower, offering a much less stable perch.

With some protests, Goldmane allowed herself to be guided over to where Addison sat on Mount Freckle. Her ears were still fixed firmly backwards, but Troia could tell that the presence of another horse was soothing to her.

She turned her head to see how Einan was doing--he'd been having some trouble with his mount as well--and found that he was already in the saddle. Sometimes she envied his riding skills. He had an easy seat, and near-flawless balance, and never fumbled the reins. She, on the other hand, often forgot to keep her back straight and shoulders up, and always felt ill-balanced on horseback. It was only fair, she supposed, though; she had a way with most other animals, so it was only right that Einan have a skill with horses at least.

"Why d'you call me Princess?" she asked Addison, gathering the reins that she had once again dropped. "Never been called that before. With my rough ways I'd rather expect to be called a bumpkin."
 

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
Addison looked at Rikhard, at Troia, then shifted her eyes from one to the other a second time. Why ask why? She didn't have much of an answer. It just seemed like a nice thing to say to the younger girl, but Addison didn't want to put it like that.

"Might the hair. Braids're pretty." Addison rubbed her own wild hair, which made a near-inaudible pop-pop as her fingers caressed loose ends. "Not a storm cloud like mine."
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard nodded, relaxing. Just a nickname, like Thoros had given him. That was fine. He wondered for a moment what Addison would call his curls. A mop, probably; they did seem to hold onto seawater.

A pang of longing gripped him as he thought of the sea. Even for all the pain and sorrow associated with it, there were happy memories there, too, of his mother and their years together. He'd been born on the waves, and learned to swim even before he could walk.

But that was then. Now the sea was behind him, for better or worse. Even if he went back there on the course of this quest, he couldn't go home.
 

Tom

Istari
Troia laughed at Addison's explanation. "Thanks. I like my braids too. My mum taught me how to do them--she said it was an old Folk custom for girls to wear their hair in two braids. Of course, I'm half Dun, too, but it's not as if my dad is any great shake at hair styling."
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard looked at Troia in interest. "You're half-Dun? So am I. My father was Dun, and my mother was Folk. She always said I took after my father more than her, except for my hair. She gave me her curls." He ran a hand through them and smiled. "Her hair was much lighter than mine, though."

It felt strange to open up about his past, especially the happier parts. He'd never really had anyone to share those memories with before. And to find another of mixed blood was even better.
 
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Tom

Istari
"My father is Dun and my mother Folk as well," Troia said, blinking. She felt a smile grow on her face. "I take after my dad's side, with my dark skin and hair. My mum complains that I've got nothing of her in me besides her blue eyes, though I think she's mistaken--I've certainly got her stubborn streak."
 
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Tom

Istari
Troia was momentarily distracted as Goldmane shifted under her, ears flicking back. She rubbed the mare's shoulder, murmuring soothing words to her. When the horse had settled, she turned her attention back to Rikhard.

"I don't know about the Hintercrown," she said, frowning. "It's rather common in Firin--we're a small village, and made up of both Folk and Dun. Everyone is familiar with each other, so intermarriage is hardly a big deal."
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
"Where's Firin?" He thought he'd heard her mention it before, but she'd given no indication of where it was. He might have passed by or through it on the way to the Hintercrown without knowing.
 

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
While Rikhards and Troia were talking, Addison thought this a good opportunity to clear the air…

"Bendalitz," she called out. "I had no meaning to be short with ye last night. I understand what ye meant about curtsies and fancy dresses not being the queen's thing."
 

Tom

Istari
"Firin is north of the Hintercrown, in the foothills of the Dragonbone Mountains," Troia replied to Rikhard. "It's very small, and not many people know it's there. It was once a village of runaway slaves."
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard nodded, staying silent; he thought it best not to reveal his ignorance of the land any more than he already had. Dushan fidgeted under him, and he patted the gelding's neck soothingly. It seemed his horse wanted to get going as much as he did, if not more.
 
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