Author Topic: The Carefree Adventures of Asher Renodin  (Read 9789 times)

Renodin

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Right! So imagine the following. the Army is camped in a recently conquered region. The men and women are tired. There was a rousing song and singing really, the night before. Asher is waking up and is making some of his very first attempts at forging bonds and relations. This is a rather descriptive RP but I hope you'll enjoy it!


The Night After

The shade was pleasant. A veil to shield his eyes from the intruding sun. The temperature had already been climbing and his cloak felt stuffy. Poking a hand out informed him that he didn't quite want to shed his cover though. A surprisingly cold breeze had snuck up from behind the tree against which he lay cuddled up and had ambushed his exposed hand. Breaking the sleep from his eyes Asher blinked several times, forcing his hand to brave the chill of morning and ran his fingers through his wild and tangled blond hair. Smudged with a bit of dirt, a bit of coppery, dried blood and sprinkled with whatever the tree had given up in bark during the night.

Peeking through a single slid of an eye he looked out over the military camp of the Xerarch's army. Remembering the song that had beckoned men and women along with hounds. That eve he himself felt exhausted and opted to nestle at the tree that was still his sleeping spot. From his slightly elevated location Asher could see that the camp was stirring. The campsite of Sir Godric showed the signs of a struggle. Heavy boot-prints in the dirt, knocked over tankards and even an upturned table beside the big tent. Was that a tear in the tent's side he saw? He rubbed the side of his head and felt how dry his mouth was and gave a light cough. Willing his tongue to feel around his gums in a meager attempt to moisten the inside of his mouth. He coughed again and finally resolved to get up. Pushing the cloak away with his hands and then trying to push himself up from the ground resulted in failure. The cloak wasn't the problem but his left leg was asleep. Pin's and needles rendering him immobile save from his facial expression. That very much resembled an ancient raisin. Fortunately, the tree was a steady ally in getting him up.

Dressed in a light brown military tunic, simple leather trousers and with a belt of oaken brown circling his waist it was exactly the very same outfit as the one in which he went to sleep. Though it smelled even more of him now, him and of dirt. Stretching to full length Asher's angular face brushed against the leafs of the low hanging branches of the tree which in turn didn't want him to let him go as his tangled hair got caught on the many little twigs that the branches were rich. Clumsily slapping at the branches Asher eventually managed to free his hair. Smoothing it back as best he could with both hands. A light stubble having appeared overnight on his chin and cheeks.

Preparing to head down towards the military camp Asher threw the cloak around his shoulders and made it into a simple yet elaborate scarf come half cloak. He picked up the leather bag that held his light chainmail hauberk and other combat gear, like his gloves. Although he noticed that one was lying on the ground and wasn't actually in the bag. He stooped low and picked it up without bending his knees. The blessings of youth. The one thing he did strap to his belt was his sheath. Can't walk around without your sword, or so the words of his instructor rang in his head. As his head felt clearer his stomach let out a growl. It made him sigh and then smile.

Strolling into the camp, bag slung over his shoulder, Asher exchanged looks with guards. His tunic looked dirty but of good quality, the fine hilt on his sword and demeanor hinting at his Noble birth. Still, he was a boy in the eyes of many of these Veterans. Asher picked up a piece of bread from a table set out for the camp guards. Rising to the challenge of one of the more senior warriors at said table. as he looked Asher directly in the eye. A short stalemate ended with the Senior Guard looking away and taking a swig from his drink. Asher nodded and proceeded to take some dried meat from right before the Aged warrior and then a piece of cheese, before turning away from them.

Munching down on the food Asher passed the rather small encampment of his own men. The only reason it wasn't described as tiny was the fact that there were five horse as well as men. The captain saluted but Asher motioned for him to stand down. ''Everything alright here?'' Asher asked. The captain nodded ''Seems there's another peasant uprising Sir. Word is that the locals declared for Vix Tiramora.'' A confused look flashed over Asher's face. ''Uhm, alright, get the men ready. I'm sure the army will want to crush them.'' The captain nodded again. ''Yes Sir, consider it done.'' Asher left the man to do what he did best and shrugged.

His feet carried him to the tent of Godric Tórrarin ka Habb. A most imposing warrior sat outside of it, whittling down a piece of wood with an oversized dagger, practically a short-sword. ''Tinder?'' Asher asked the grizzled man, feeling he had to initiate a conversation. A single look informed the youth that he was a piece of walking horse !@#$. Not only that but if Asher would adres the man again he would prove it to him. At about that time, the flap that covered the entrance to the tent was pushed aside and a man bearing the insignia of captain emerged.

The captain eyed the youth before him and his nose wrinkled as his face barely hid a scowl. The fact that the boy-man wore a signet ring was perhaps the only reason he didn't violently remove the youth from his presence. Instead, a very flat voice he uttered ''What? Start talking boy.'' The sheer radiant menace glowing from the captain like an aura made Asher flinch. ''I errr.. '' Asher's eyes tried to meet those of the captain but failed. Instead they beheld the captain's steel sabatons crushing the dirt beneath them. Dried mud caking the side of them, adding to the grim veneer. ''I am Sir Asher Renodin and I wish to hand this letter to your Master.''

The parchment was bound in a soft, beige rabbit skin. Almost making it seem like a very thin parcel. Asher stuck it out towards the captain who took it without ever tearing his eyes away from Asher. Feeling his discomfort rise Asher turned around and made off again. The grizzled warrior and his captain eyeballed him all the way until Asher vanished behind a stand of tents. ''Pray the Paragons. What has Xavax come to if we're stuck with that for Nobility.'' The captain nodded solemnly in agreement.

The captain however, wasn't going to ignore a message from a Noble brought to his master and dutifully placed on the pile of other correspondence that his master would tend to, sooner or later.