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DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY

LadyGreyfist

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About LadyGreyfist

  • Birthday 12/10/1989

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  1. At the offer of coin Ivo wrinkled his nose slightly and waved a meaty hand dismissively. "I do no need your coin." he said softly. It wasn't said with a tone that suggested he thought himself better, just that he really didn't desire any money at all. "I do have enough for my needs. My sister do pay me fair wages for guarding her wagons. No, I picked a fight with these dogs because I do be itching for a good fight some of the time... and it do feel like the right thing to do when a lady is being pestered." He explained shortly with a deferential tilt to his shaggy head. "However, my sister would love to show a Lady hospitality. Our caravan do be this way if you do want to wash the grime from the tussle off your dress. Or even to just let her serve you some tea." He chuckled. His sister could hold her own in a fight if she had to, he'd seen it dozens of times, however he knew that she absolutely hated if anything soiled her dresses. She kept herself up with diligence and concern and had far better luck taming her own auburn hair than Ivo had. Regardless she'd love the opportunity to chat with one and maybe feel that she had been of assistance to one. She'd love to be able to throw Kira's name out there when doing business if the suggestion of noble connections abroad gave her any edge in a deal.
  2. Fang's silent movements seemed to come so easy to her, Masan felt the muscles in his legs tremble with the effort of moving so carefully and silently without the aid of the One Power. Burn it all. He kept his ears open though and his eyes scanning the tree lines. She could focus her eyes on the house, he would focus on the rest of the light blinded world. This was supposed to be quick and easy, not suspicious and spooky! He made sure to keep himself within arms reach of Fang if danger presented itself, so that he could throw her to the ground and out of harm's way if necessary. It seemed like it wouldn't be though. Well, at least until an arthritic creak seemed to ring through the air on the property. Masan whipped his head around so fast that one of his braids smacked him in the cheek, not that he paid it much mind, such things happened often. His eyes searched the twilight darkened tree line for any sign of movement and he strained his ears for any other sounds. He waved a hand in a downwards motion, suggesting quiet, when Fang asked him what that was. In the smallest voice he could muster he responded, "Nothing," with a shake of the head. "I guess it was the gate on the old fence we just passed?" he guessed. It could only be a guess though. He hoped it was just the wind. Fang cursed and Masan just allowed himself another roll of the eyes. So yes, maybe it did, and it was in a much softer voice then before but part of him didn't feel it merited being said aloud. It was pretty clear even if unsaid. This entire situation was not shaping up to be what he had been expecting when the job was described to him. As they reached the house Masan let Fang have a peek before waving for her attention and mouthing the word; "anything?"
  3. As they approached the farm Masan stopped and tethered Boko's reins to a low hanging branch. The rest of the way would be approached on foot. It was eerily quiet. The stars were starting to show on the horizon but the sun, now dipped below, had still left some residual light, certainly enough for any farmer to still be working by, or at least wrapping up their work. It was getting fishier and fishier. He crouched and motioned to Fang. "I have an off kind of feeling about this." He whispered to her, craning his head until their foreheads nearly touched. "It's not anything big but, still, a feeling. Let's scout it out a bit, you're really stealthy and it'll probably be easier for you to skulk about than me, but I'm going to try to remain in sight of you. Do you feel comfortable shifting over to one of those windows and taking a peek inside?" If she wasn't he'd certainly do it himself. In all reality he could probably use weaves of air to muffle the sounds of his movement... if he tried really hard possibly. The thing is he did not want to channel at all where someone might see or notice or suspect anything, especially not Fang. He had grown somewhat attached to her in the past few days, to the point where he was starting to forget that she wasn't in fact his blood sister and in some way the idea of her shrieking in terror, knowing what he was, would cut him deep.
  4. Ivo stalled slightly in his tracks. He saw the woman who, previously, had been being restrained, lash out with an expertly placed kick and regain some ground for herself. Momentarily he contemplated if she had ever really needed his help, or at the very least if maybe she no longer did. This hesitation lasted only a second as he saw the vicious light in the two remaining highwaymen's eyes. It wouldn't matter how good she was with that knife, there was still two of them. While they were distracted with lunging for the girl Ivo cleared the distance, dropping his cudgel with minimum care and lashing out with both of his giant fists to clasp them around the collars of the two men. He tugged back hard, digging the shirt into the windpipes of the two grunting buffoons. They had an opportunity to be startled, enough to turn their heads to gaze up at the lion-like face of their restrainer, before Ivo brought his two fists together and subsequently crashing both of their skulls together. Their bodies became limp in his hands as awareness fled and Ivo unceremoniously dropped them into the heaps they belonged it. "I do be thinking we had better clear out before the ones that are still awake get a second wind." Ivo suggested to the woman in blue, stooping to collect his cudgel and return it to his belt loop. A man of few words, as always, he held out an arm out in the direction of the clear strip of road with a slight bow to his head as though saying with deference, without words, "Lady's first."
  5. "This doesn't concern you, Illianer. Leave." As if it flaming didn't? He wasn't bloody blind! For emphasis he bounced the iron banded, bludgeoning end of the cudgel against his other open palm, projecting outward calm. There was only four of them. To the average man the prospect probably would have come across as intimidating, but Ivo, having been a shy, fat child was more than accustomed to being ganged up on. It didn't impress him in the slightest. "Ah, fortune prick me, now that's where you do be wrong. The ways I see it, I've been all cooped up on this journey from Illian. Behaving myself and all. But now you do be giving me a lovely opportunity to vent some frustrations. So, the ways I see it, you can disappoint me and let the lady go and be about your day. Or, you may continue to pester her and you'll be looking for your teeth in the chamber pot come tomorrow." His best attempt at an amicable smile was... far from amicable. He knew this, and decided to share it with the light blinded fools. "There are four of us," another said, as he moved forward to grab the woman. Ivo gripped his cudgel tightly, preparing to dive into the mess and crack some skulls. He blinked as the woman lashed out at the man with her belt knife. And then tension in the air snapped like a taught wire having been cut. The leader of the team and one of the others attempted to rush Ivo while two stayed behind to try to take down the woman. If he moved fast enough with these two he could hopefully reach her in time. He had a long stride when it came to walking but it took time for him to move the sheer mass of his muscle into a decent run. Instead he charged only a few steps, just enough to get him into closing distance with the startled fools. Likely they had expected him to run or shrink back slightly, but Ivo had been stressed out and he was itching for a good fight! He imagined these men to represent all the expectations on him, all the pressure to be something and behave someway contrary to his nature. He roared as he whipped the cudgel around with shocking speed, the otherwise heavy weapon wasn't nearly as so to someone with arm muscles accustomed to hauling heavy crates and product up and down. Ivo slammed the cudgel into the mouth of the leader without really using all his strength. He didn't want to actually kill the man. The man yowled and bits of shattered teeth, bloodied pink, streamed from his mouth. He crumbled, wailing with his hands gripping his bloodied mouth. His companion didn't have a chance to really flee as Ivo flowed from one motion with his cudgel into the next, striking the wide eyed highway man in the ribs, filling the road with a sickening crack as a rib was broken and the horrified whoosh of all the air leaving his lungs. Ivo just left him gasping in the road beside his leader before rounding on the two tangling with the girl.
  6. Masan mulled over it. It was a bit of a trek but not one that would have been too far for a local to run and come back to do. It was a little fishy. "I'm not interested in staying, but a meal would be alright with me. But I suppose work is work. And it should be something. Do you feel uncomfortable about doing it?" He asked, rubbing Boko's nose while he waited for her opinion. (Sorry I know it's short)
  7. "Come on Ivo!" Grandt pretty much whined. Whined, for a flaming grown man. "I know you agreed to come drinking in town with us so you could play your Ocarina and dance but- slow down big man!" Ivo stopped his long stride and stood still, arms folded across his beer barrel sized chest and glowered down at his... not really friend... he wasn't particularly close with the other Merchant's Guards in his sister's employ. He was pretty sure that they tried to be friendly to get on his sister's good graces in hopes of being remembered for a bonus at the end of their season. Ha! Drescella wouldn't even give HIM a bonus and they were flesh and blood. There was no way she would part with coin just to make him friends. She was smart, she had given up on interceding on his behalf to help him make friends. Not that she didn't care, in fact she was probably the most in touch with how he felt! She just knew that he wouldn't want a friend if they had to be paid to stay around him. Drescella was deeply compassionate to how crushing their father's expectations were on him. It wasn't fair that their father expected him to learn to be something he wasn't just because he was their preferred choice to take the business. Had Drescella not married Peitre and started managing his affairs she would have probably taken over the business for father. Carra had a face and a disposition that made it easy for her to sell anything, but management was more of her husband's affair. Julsea and Belinda were too young still to know who they may choose to marry and Master Pylos was hoping that Ivo was going to be ready to take over soon so he, himself, could retire and not have to keep traveling until Julsea came of age. Ivo really didn't want to be a merchant. He'd much rather stay with Drescella and help her, and he was sure she would have him, but she was kind of stuck between making him happy and making their father happy. Ivo hated it, but he knew he was pressuring her to do something that could get her in trouble but he didn't see how else he could get out of it. Grandt caught up to him and held him in place by the elbow of his grey coat. "It's cool that you can make some extra gold with your music. Chase your dreams and all. But imagine the gold we could ALL make," All being the other half of the guards that were being allowed to walk to the nearby town as their caravan of strangers was usually safest staying on the outskirts. "if we get you to challenge some locals to a strength competition. You know, they put coin down on whether you can break or bend things. You get them worked up thinking you can break a bunch of stuff and then when they bet that you can, something that's hard to bend you just give up after one or two tries and we'll bet that you couldn't. Come ooooon. We'll give you a share. And EVEN share!" Ivo just wanted the Altaran to leave him alone. He pulled his sleeve from Grandt's grip and turned. "I do no be interested in your tricks. I do no want to be tricking poor old farmers and good wives out o' their hard earned coin for nothing. If anyone do want to throw me a coin to pick a song I'll oblige but if you do want to cheat you find yourself another patsy." He grunted, leaving the other man there blinking in confusion. Grandt probably hadn't heard Ivo speak that many words to him in the whole of their traveling together. Praise the light they managed to travel the rest of the way in silence. He let the others head to a cheap, shady inn. He wasn't too good for such an establishment. Not by far. And such a place would afford him maybe a good opportunity to break out his frustrations with a fight, but he knew he shouldn't be picking a fight after making those other guards so mad. They may not step in to help him if he needed it. Frankly he couldn't trust them not to join in or, at the very least, not to boo him while he was trying to play just out of spite. He went a little ways away and into a slightly classier establishment. It wasn't full of the wealthy by any means but it was cleaner and the drink, being a little better quality, cost a little more. When he first entered all eyes turned to him, slightly wide in surprise at his height. He was used to this reaction and they typically settled within a second. He'd heard every joke about height that was ever penned, he was sure. A few memorable times he recalled being asked if he was a tall man or a short ogier. Ivo ordered a drink and asked if he might play his music. He informed the inn keeper that he was not looking for room or payment from the inn keeper, just a safe place to play for other's amusement. If someone wanted a specific song they could toss him a coin but he'd likely use those on his drinks. The innkeeper, an old woman with more grey in her hair than brown and a slight stoop to her back, grinned. Music always helped to bring in customers and it was even better for her that he didn't want anything from her. It had been a rather fun afternoon, people had kicked up and danced a bit as he'd played jolly tunes; cheer you wouldn't expect from a man as somber as him. He had to be back to the caravan before dark, but the coins given to him bought him a couple cups of decent ale, just enough to give him a mild buzz before he had to get going. The innkeeper had tried to convince him to stay but she understood eventually. Ivo didn't care to collect the other guards though, he'd much rather make the short walk back there himself. He shuffled along the the road headed back, watching the shadows extend across the road. Suddenly he heard a commotion over the crest of a hill and the sight of a lone woman with a horse, being harassed by a bunch of men cut through his buzz like a knife. Welp, a perfect night ruined. He eased his sword in its sheath, able to be wielded in one of his large, meaty hands. He did pull his iron banded cudgel out of the loop on the other side of his belt. He didn't want to draw the sword unless he absolutely had to, but he could knock quite a few teeth out with the cudgel. Taking a deep breath he marched up to the altercation. "What do be happening here on this fine sunset evening?" He grunted to the group, completely filling up the road.
  8. Masan tied Fang's purse to his belt beside his own and gave her a grin. "Don't worry silly." He was certain that he was the tighter of the two of them when it came to coin. Fang desperately seemed to miss the comforts of a nightly bed and a daily hot meal. Well, Masan had to admit that they were nice, of course, but he also knew better than to expect them. They were a treat, not a normal part of his life as they had been to Fang. Regardless, he intended to split whatever coins they had left evenly up between the two purses when he was done. The general store was clean but also a little cluttered. There was a barrel in the corner labeled Odds and Sods, clearly full of things that had been ordered and not proven to sell easily. They sat there, discounted. Masan ran his eyes over the barrels but found little of interest to him. This store would be relatively popular with travelers headed south, and so anything that a traveler might need was not likely to appear in those barrels. Under a second observation, however, he did spot a tin cup. It was dinged up an the handle was crooked. It wasn't pretty but it still looked like it could hold fluid and that's all Fang really needed in a cup. Masan scooped up the cheap little thing and wandered over to the side wall lined with replacement supplies for travelers. Here he collected the smallest bedroll (Fang was so much shorter than him she didn't need a huge roll, it would just be heavier to carry if they couldn't find a pack animal for her) and inspected the food stuffs. Hard tack, hard cheese, dried fruits and some salt cured meats were the general stock, displayed with pricing and which local farm had provided the product. He even found a heavy glass jar filled with cucumbers, onions, garlic and little red pieces of pepper with a sign exclaiming the quality of Granny Piond's Pickles. Normally he was made of tougher stuff but he just had to get those pickles to share with Fang. Pickling was just a common way to preserve lots of vegetables and was very common up in the Borderlands, where the growing season was short and winters hard. Burn him, he missed his mother's pickled cabbage and pickled chinis that grew in their garden. He wasn't sure, having been from Tear, that Fang would have ever had cause to try pickles as, it seemed, this far south that pickling was a trade of the poor. He shook the jar a bit to see if he could make out if any dill herbs were floating it it, but it seemed not. With a grin this told him they were likely sweet and spicy. He was so excited to have the Little Miss try them. "Oye Lad, that's quite a collection. Lose a lot of your gear?" The shop keeper asked, dry washing his hands on his shirt. Masan nodded. "Yeah. Lost a whole bunch, a strap on the saddle got caught and my stuff fell in the river and washed away. It's awful to have to replace it but I'm traveling with my sister and we're getting tired of trading the last bedroll and the last cup." The shop keeper chuckled. "Oh, I'm the youngest of six, I know what that's like. We'll get you sorted out and at the fairest prices between Tear and Illian." Masan highly doubted that but he smiled and counted out the coins, shouldered his purchases an went out to get them tied to Boko and wait for Fang to come back and let them know.
  9. Totally understand. Ivo doesn't exist in Kira's timeline until she is 40, if Kira gets retro-played then it would take place at a time where Ivo was still clutching to his mother's apron strings. Haha. I understand that they're not going to bond right away, not until Ivo has reached Tar Valon with Kira and completed Warder training. At this point the bond they will be forming is one of friendship and trust so that, by the time they do Bond Ivo will feel quite comfortable with the job, Kira will know he is the best man for the job, and the only change is that thanks to the Bond the job will actually get a little easier.
  10. Masan walked with an air of alertness to him as they traveled the road cutting through the center of this town. He kept their chatter to a minimum until he saw a store with a swinging sign indicating a general store. This was likely a popular road south. Quietly he whispered to Fang. "You can go to the inn and ask around about work. But be sure to mention your older brother and how big he is. Some men will be unlikely to give our kind of work to a woman alone. If they have anything you can meet me in front of here." He indicated, tying Boko's reigns to a post in front of the store. "Can I have your purse? I may have to pool our resources to get some things. We need another bed roll, cup, plate, and food. We don't have enough for a horse or mule for you, but with any luck you may find us some work and we'll be able to travel to the next town with an extra horse. I'll have to add horse riding to your lessons."
  11. After Fang had finished her tea she returned to training. Masan figured now that he'd gotten her turned onto the idea of a more conventional weapon that she wouldn't be easily diverted. So, he poured himself some tea into the emptied tin cup and sat back to watch. She'd managed to get better but as she became more tired he watched her being to slip. This was to be expected. They'd been traveling hard and not gotten much rest or had much to eat. She had to be just as weary as he was. He mused over her suggestion that the clearing of those bandits had been too easy. Perhaps it was. Sometimes bandits, in rural areas like this, could possibly be only a few men taking shelter in a small shack built into a cave. Could be. But her point had gotten him to thinking. He'd looted out that shack, unbeknownst to Fang. And he'd not found much. Master Neril had given him a description of the amount of extortion the town had been under and for how long. Those men couldn't come into town regularly and spend the money they had been looting from people. Even if they'd been preying predominately on local, isolated farmers there would still be someone in the main village who would recognize them and jump them. There was no way they could have thrived without going into town for supplies. So where where they procuring them from? Were they part of a larger group? He snorted and drained the rest of the, now tepid, tea. That had to be a problem bigger than what his puny brain could wrap around. Neither he nor Fang were the bloody Watch. Why should it be their problem? But could it become their problem? Had they just interfered with a bigger operation and helped to make themselves some enemies? It's not like they would be forgettable. An Arafellin brother and sister traveling on a grey speckled horse? The brother being a man who could channel? Oh blood and bloody ashes. Well, with the light's blessing none of it would come back to bite them on the bottom. He noticed as an arrow went completely off track. Fang was clearly getting too bleary eyed to aim. Masan pushed himself up and gently took the bow from her reluctant hands."Well done. You did well." He said quickly in order to waylay the complaints that looked like they were going to well up any minute. The compliment didn't seem to work so, thinking quickly, he punctuated it with a soft pat to her back. It was time to sleep and it was already too dark to be shooting any more arrows tonight, fire-light or no fire-light. When she asked if they may also train tomorrow he gave a short nod, shutting the bow away in the water-tight case strapped to Boko's saddle. "So long as we come across a quiet, safe place to do so. If we manage to find another village we may get hung up. I need to get us more supplies. We're moving too quickly to stop and hunt. We can't let your father's men get too close to us again, just in case they suspect us. I'd like to put more ground between us and them before we let ourselves rest for two days in the same place. We need more travel provisions... and another cup if I can find one." He snorted, peeking over at his only dinged up tin atrocity. "If we get held up too much we may have to camp just outside the village and I don't want to make the Watch nervous. But that's a worst case scenario. I intend," he said, emphasizing his intentions, "to get our supplies quickly, get out, and be a couple miles out of town before we break to camp. If all goes according to plan you'll be turning another tree into a pin cushion tomorrow evening." He smiled. "We only have one bed roll, another thing we're going to have to try to fix in the next town. So I'm going to let you have it tonight, and I'll sleep under my cloak. If we can't find a new bedroll in town tomorrow it'll be my turn for the bed roll. Sound fair?" He asked, pulling said roll off of the back of Boko. At this rate they were going to have to hope they could find some work in that town and maybe get a pack mule so Boko was not so encumbered. At this rate she'd be so burdened with their possessions she would not be able to be ridden.
  12. Masan gave a great whoop and punched the air. "You got it! That, Little Miss, is a wound bad enough to stop someone who was charging at you from going any further. He's not dead but he's not a threat to you now from so far away. So, what did you think? Worth training with that every night on our way to Tear?" He asked, walking over to the target and collecting his arrows back up and returning them to the quiver. "Also, tea is done if you're ready to take a break. We can have something to eat and drink, then you can practice some more." He began filling a tin cup of tea. They only had one so they'd have to take turns having tea until they could come across another. He'd let her have tea first, as he saw himself as the oldest. "But not for too long, mind." He added, handing the steaming cup to her. "We'd best get some sleep now that we can actually stop and do so."
  13. Masan smiled softly as he stood aside and watched her go through the exercises. "What do we do next?" she asked. He motioned to the arrows driven into the earth beside her. "Practice firing those into the cross I carved into the bark of the tree. It's okay if you don't get it dead in the center. The string is kind of heavy so it's going to be learning more about getting used to pulling it back with an arrow and aiming in the right general direction. If you can hit the tree, you're doing fine." It was a pretty big tree so he imagined it'd be difficult for her to miss it with her skill when it came to aiming knifes and daggers. But aiming the tip of the arrow would come with practice and getting accustomed to pulling back the heavy string of the bow.
  14. The sullen look on Fang's face wiped the grin off Masan's. "Of course I don't think you're stupid. This is part of the training too. Okay, time out for a second." He said softly. "Part of training to be a soldier isn't just getting better with a weapon or a tool, it's training into a mentality and an ability to set yourself as an individual aside and operate like the extension of one being, with your commander as its brain. The thing is, you're not always going to like your commanders, and they're not always going to get to know every face in their service. My grandfather taught me the same way." He explained, his face becoming fond. "I was always his favorite grandson. He didn't hide it well. But if he was training us he went hardest on me, would be the meanest to me, the least forgiving to me. Because my brothers were going to work the forge the rest of their lives. They just needed to know the sword or the halberd well enough to protect themselves and their families. I was being prepared to be a soldier. So, when it was just us, not training, he was doting and kind; like I'll try to be to you when you're not being a bloody woolhead." The fondness in his eyes only increased. As he stepped behind her, though, his voice hardened and became impassive. "But when we were training, he was not my grandfather. He was my captain and I was his subordinate. I had to learn to be able to take an order and accept commands even when I hated it, or was embarrassed or was made to look a fool. I had to not care. You care a bit, still, if you look the fool. So, when we aren't training I'll be your brother but when we are, I'm going to be your captain. If you can learn to stomach it and push through, then any band will be ready to sign you up into service. But if you let a bruised pride get to you easily, you won't be as valuable to a band. If I'm going to teach you I'm going to make a flaming good soldier out of you before we reach Tear. Now, eyes front, and draw the string to your cheek a few times to get your muscles acquainted with the motion."
  15. "Hold your horses." Masan laughed softly, and groaned slightly as he pushed himself up from where he was sitting on a log beside the fire and had been warming his hands. "Alright then, we're going to need the quiver, but I'm going to stick the arrows in the dirt in front of you so you have a couple at the ready. You're going to be stationary and trying to hit a stationary target... pretty much the only thing I can hit myself." He grinned, taking a fist full of the arrows (he didn't have many) from the quiver and driving the heads down into the soft, sandy soil. He walked a few paces over to a large tree and, with his belt knife, carved a cross into the bark. "See this target is pretty close, and is nearly as thick as a man. Well. Maybe not as thick as me." He chuckled, flexing his shoulders for the joke. "But it'll do. The object is to try to get the arrow as close to where those lines me as possible. It's alright if you don't hit it, and just as well if you miss the entire tree. It's you're first time and mostly it's to get you used to the motion of pulling the string back." He plodded back through the brush to stand beside her, fists on his hips to inspect the target from the distance she would be firing it. Pleased with his work he turned to her once more. "Also, and I am bloody serious about this part. Don't EVER aim even in the general direction of Boko or me or I WILL be hunting for little bears. I so much as feel the wind whistle past that horse I will put you over my knee again and give you one that will make the last one you got feel like butterfly kisses and, even worse, you will lose bow privilege." He warned. Mentioning himself had been less important. He once stood against a tree with a gourd on his head and let Baun shoot it off. (By the light they were so bloody stupid as children it was a wonder he was even still alive with the foolishness they got up to.) But he would not stand for his horse to be threatened. She was his pride and joy, his wonderful girl and as much as he was sure Fang knew the rules he just felt it was important to drive home the first rule of learning the bow. It was a rite of passage from his home village. His own grandfather had walloped half the boys in their village for not taking their lessons seriously and shooting at cats and stray dogs. Had she been his sister by blood she'd have started her lessons with the bow by getting a crack on the bottom from the long one his grandfather had carried with him to the lessons. Luckily he'd spare her that part and just give her the stern-captain talk. He could only maintain the officer's scowl for a minute or two before breaking into a wide grin again. He gently took the bow from her and instructed her to watch, he'd pull back a knocked arrow on the string a couple times to show her the position. "It'll get heavy once you get it back to your cheek, I can pull it back easily because it's not a heavy weight, but it also can't fly far. It's for hunting, not fighting after all, but it's as good as any to practice with." At that he let the string relax and handed the bow back to her. "There you go Birgitte, have fun but be safe."
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