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Snippet #1958184

located in Calisma, a part of Calisma, one of the many universes on RPG.




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Character Portrait: Rydas Errion
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Rydas Errion
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The group ate in silence at first, each eagerly consuming the bowl of food that was presented them. He nodded his head, quite as always, to those gracious enough to thank him for the meal. While everyone received a generous portion he did not ladle any of the stew into a bowl for himself. Rations were not scarce, as it was only their first night, and he had not laced the food. Rather, the Prince scarcely felt the pains of hunger in present days. Often it took coercing from sister or advisers for him to consumer more than a few bites of cheese or bread. It was funny how anxieties of the mind so often affected the rest of the body. Sustenance aside, the Prince brewed himself a cup of herbs that smelled bitter until a tad of honey was added. What the concoction was, he didn’t say, but it seemed to keep him at ease.

Long legs stretched, lounging with the saddle at his lower back. He was propped up just enough to see the encampment. With the position, and the firelight flickering across his face, he resembled something of a wolf- ears perked, alert but comfortable as he guarded his pack. With practiced patience he waited for the bard to finish her meal, hoping she would accede to his request for song. In the quiet lull of stuffed mouths Rydas took the time to reassess the group. Mind cleared, more or less, from riding and mood swayed to a lighter tone, his impressions of the misfit brigaded were slightly more positive. Silent prayers were made that said impressions would last when next their mouths would open.

Rydas was not sure whether he was more grateful or more surprised that there had been no controversy over their last joined member- the Feledine. He knew, even in their own court, that tensions with other races ran high with the strange disease that plagued his father. Often in times of crisis the different were the first to be blamed. With the southern cat-like race being so withdrawn from common society, it was suspicious even to himself for the appearance of one now. Vision swept over Icareau, wondering what the purpose of his attendance was- had his people wished to show their support of the long-honoured treaty, or had he had a hand in the sickness? From what he could remember, the Feledines weren’t well versed with magic, but that didn’t make it impossible. Momentarily he wondered why the others hadn’t questioned the catman. They had never hesitated to voice concerns thus far. He wondered how far ignorance ran through the common people, or if it was exhaustion that froze their tongues tonight.

Thoughts were halted. The treasonous ranger crouched, making motions that he’d heard something in the tent behind the Prince. In fluid motion he rose, remarkably quiet despite amour and cloak, and paused to listen. Silence. It was an odd quiet, not even the horses stirred. Equines were timid creatures, easily disturbed. Whoever was inside the tent was well experienced. His mind momentarily flashed back to the many assassination attempts within the castle walls- how have they found me so quickly? Vision met with the Triansui and Narenia, palm raised, directing them to show caution. He steeled himself for whatever may come, standing behind the archer, as the warrior woman entered from the back.

Whatever question had been asked of the intruder was not responded with words but rather actions: quick, hostile actions to boot. A snap resounded through the encampment as the tent collapsed in on itself and those inside. Somehow the trespasser managed to dart out in time, around the archer before she could let loose an arrow. Rydas was quick too, however, and positioned himself in the way. With weight and muscle he took her impact, a wild woman crashing into his body. Strong arms attempted to grab her, but he was a moment too late. An untamed fist struck true, hitting him square in the jaw. The desperation behind the hit was felt, it’d be sure to be sore in the morning. Annoyed, Rydas grabbed wrists, swinging her around like a ballroom dance and grasping her tight against him. Kick all she wanted, efforts would be futile.

“Calm yourself, you’ll only make it worse.” He said, the firm and commanding voice of an annoyed Prince spoke forcibly into her ear. The woman smelled of pine and dew, and it was only than that he notice how scantily clad she was. As if to end her wiggling, he tightened his grip. With sight of the small dagger at his feet, and half-eaten bread, Rydas had a sneaking suspicion that they had just interrupted a robbery rather than thwarted an oncoming attack. Motives aside, his jaw had started to ache.