Throwing her pack into the wagon, Ceren stood watchful until Emmi was herself up and in before turning to Rabbit. He stood, patient though his ears twitched every which way. Ceren had gotten him at a steal of a price. Most doing business in and around Kirkwall had little use for an overzealous gelding. But Ceren knew he'd be perfect out beyond the walls and crowds. She too felt her muscles twitching in anticipation, her lungs eager to breathe deep the open air. As if to echo their sentiments, Andor called from where he circled high above. He, at least, had been able to venture far afield whenever the urge struck him. Still, Ceren felt he resented having to check in on her in her cage. No more, little brother, she thought as she guided Rabbit alongside the wagon.
Caro's words were well received. This was, after all, not her first caravan. He got a nod, though there'd be no stowing of her bow and quiver. The short sword, however... "Here," Ceren said, tucking it behind where Esmé sat on the wagon's bench. "We can work on fancier techniques over time, if you want. But I think you can manage the basic stab if it comes to it." Ceren gave her friend a wink, and Caro a nod before tapping her heels into Rabbit's flanks to encourage him forward. Time to see about our counterparts.
Rabbit moved at a trot, passing the rear wagons that were laden heavy with barrels and crates and pulled by huge, lumbering oxen. Their drivers looked her way as she passed, first at her face, then her bow. Most gave slight nods and returned their attention to their animals. Some looked back at her again, their eyes unsure before flitting away. There was always some danger in working a caravan, and war did nothing to lessen it. Uncertainty, mistrust, was to be expected. As a new band, the House of the Salamander had yet to establish itself as a balm to such ailments. All in good time. Ceren did not offer smiles, as that would do no favor. Instead, she kept her eyes sharp and to the business of surveying her charges, taking stock and beginning the work of at least partially memorizing their features.
About half way up the line, she came upon a tall, broad chested man in worn, but not worn out, studded leather armor. He carried is banded wooden shield on his back and his long sword sat comfortably at his side. His hair, a dirty blond, looked freshly washed and hung in a tight braid down the back of his neck. His square jaw was freshly shaved as well. Clearly, this man was intent on a good impression. At hearing the jingle of her approached, he turned his head until brown eyes met hers. Those eyes swept from Rabbit's hooves to the top of Ceren's head, then took another pass or two before he huffed his acknowledgement of her presence. Ceren slowed Rabbit to a walk, completing her own assessment of the man, then turning her eyes to scan over the fields alongside the road. Any danger to the caravan would not appear so close to Kirkwall. But ahead, the scrub trees were in sight, heralds of the forests ahead. Beyond them, the foothills of the Vimmark Mountains waited. Ceren took any job that would let her explore the terrain around Kirkwall since they'd settled there, but those jobs were few and far between. She could not rely on her ready knowledge of the land now, as she could in the Bannorn, so she would have to learn fast. More importantly, she would have to keep her lack of knowledge a secret.
"So you're with them... what was it?" the man asked, his voice gruff.
"House of the Salamander." she said, then tapped her chest. "Ceren."
"Never 'eard of 'em." he replied. Then, after a moment, he added, "Luca. The Red Dogs."
"Likewise." Ceren replied, looking at the man sidewise.There was a long moment of silence between them before the man gave a huff that might have been an acknowledgement of their shared... lack of reputation. Ceren, feeling that the encounter had served it's purpose, nudged Rabbit again, turning him to cut through the gap between two carts to ride back down the line along the other side. She did not see that the man had opened his mouth to say something else. From what she could tell, he was like many of the standard issue caravan guards she'd encountered in Ferelden. She wasn't exactly sure what else she should be looking for in him. Perhaps Caro could give some clarity on the assignment.
Caro's words were well received. This was, after all, not her first caravan. He got a nod, though there'd be no stowing of her bow and quiver. The short sword, however... "Here," Ceren said, tucking it behind where Esmé sat on the wagon's bench. "We can work on fancier techniques over time, if you want. But I think you can manage the basic stab if it comes to it." Ceren gave her friend a wink, and Caro a nod before tapping her heels into Rabbit's flanks to encourage him forward. Time to see about our counterparts.
Rabbit moved at a trot, passing the rear wagons that were laden heavy with barrels and crates and pulled by huge, lumbering oxen. Their drivers looked her way as she passed, first at her face, then her bow. Most gave slight nods and returned their attention to their animals. Some looked back at her again, their eyes unsure before flitting away. There was always some danger in working a caravan, and war did nothing to lessen it. Uncertainty, mistrust, was to be expected. As a new band, the House of the Salamander had yet to establish itself as a balm to such ailments. All in good time. Ceren did not offer smiles, as that would do no favor. Instead, she kept her eyes sharp and to the business of surveying her charges, taking stock and beginning the work of at least partially memorizing their features.
About half way up the line, she came upon a tall, broad chested man in worn, but not worn out, studded leather armor. He carried is banded wooden shield on his back and his long sword sat comfortably at his side. His hair, a dirty blond, looked freshly washed and hung in a tight braid down the back of his neck. His square jaw was freshly shaved as well. Clearly, this man was intent on a good impression. At hearing the jingle of her approached, he turned his head until brown eyes met hers. Those eyes swept from Rabbit's hooves to the top of Ceren's head, then took another pass or two before he huffed his acknowledgement of her presence. Ceren slowed Rabbit to a walk, completing her own assessment of the man, then turning her eyes to scan over the fields alongside the road. Any danger to the caravan would not appear so close to Kirkwall. But ahead, the scrub trees were in sight, heralds of the forests ahead. Beyond them, the foothills of the Vimmark Mountains waited. Ceren took any job that would let her explore the terrain around Kirkwall since they'd settled there, but those jobs were few and far between. She could not rely on her ready knowledge of the land now, as she could in the Bannorn, so she would have to learn fast. More importantly, she would have to keep her lack of knowledge a secret.
"So you're with them... what was it?" the man asked, his voice gruff.
"House of the Salamander." she said, then tapped her chest. "Ceren."
"Never 'eard of 'em." he replied. Then, after a moment, he added, "Luca. The Red Dogs."
"Likewise." Ceren replied, looking at the man sidewise.There was a long moment of silence between them before the man gave a huff that might have been an acknowledgement of their shared... lack of reputation. Ceren, feeling that the encounter had served it's purpose, nudged Rabbit again, turning him to cut through the gap between two carts to ride back down the line along the other side. She did not see that the man had opened his mouth to say something else. From what she could tell, he was like many of the standard issue caravan guards she'd encountered in Ferelden. She wasn't exactly sure what else she should be looking for in him. Perhaps Caro could give some clarity on the assignment.
03-22-2024, 12:40 PM
