Lights in the Night Sky

[The Mongrel]

Closed to SerCasimir. Closely following the events of A Knight's Tale, part the first. WARNING: this thread is rated S for sexy times.

The light of day and rush of combat had faded hours before. My mission was complete; I had the trinket I needed to return to my employer. My wayward group of misfits had slain each and every member of the bandit encampment. We'd delivered its prisoners and would-be slaves to freedom. We'd even found a bit of loot.

In the chaos of battle, the clamor of grateful but confused women and children, and then the bickering over the loot and the severing of bandit heads for bounties, dawn had turned to midday, midday had dimmed to evening, and dusk had settled in its gloomy murk, letting the light of the stars shine through.

I'd let the others go to return the captives to safety. I hadn't taken heads for bounties. Stars, the last thing I need is to start being identified as some sort of hero outside of Pode and her demise. Instead, I'd found myself a small copse a little way off the road. The night was cool and clear, and aside from being covered in dew in the morning. I couldn't see anything inconveniencing me. It was a good chance to let my hair out of its usual tight updo and give my eyes a rest from the green contacts I wore to hide the Star-blessed silver that had been imposed on me in Raiaera not so very long ago.

I could have returned to Scara City to deliver my prize. Part of me thought I should have. But I was still sore from blows taken in battle. All I wanted to do was get out of my tough leather armor, relax in my comfortable night-dark street clothes, open a bottle of wine, and recuperate.

Stars light your footsteps, I thought in absent toast to my companions. And sunlight keep you safe.

[SerCasimir]

It had been a finely fought battle, the sort of which minstrels might sing some day. The four of them had rescued the prisoners and slain the bandits in detail. A great victory, by any reckoning, and so here it was, many hours later, and a weary but pleased Ser Casimir entered the copse where he had followed Kon, the woman who had gathered them all together in the first place. She had given him use of a sword she possesed, an ensorcelled titanium blade called Hecatoncheir. In the bustle of activity he had overlooked returning it to her, and so he had followed her from their parting to return it.

He saw her sitting under a tree, her armor piled next to her in an ordered fashion. He had still had no chance to remove his own, and the thought reminded him of his body's protestations to that fact.

"Glad I was able to catch up to you, Lady Kon. I wished to return Hecatoncheir to you."

He took the lance off his shoulders and stabbed it into the ground. He was still carrying his belongings, having in fact added a jug of wine to their number. It was then he noticed that her eyes which he had been quite sure were green previously were silver.

"Have your eyes been silver this whole time, or have I gone mad?"

[The Mongrel]

Ah, shit.

Out of the three men who had stormed the camp with me earlier that day, I'd liked Casimir the best. He had the same calm, steady air and level head as another half-orc I'd known. He'd been polite, reasonable, and valiant to a fault - all traits I found specious in elves and obsequious in humans, but were somehow charming when wrapped in green skin and delivered through tusks.

Not to mention, the man fought like a demon. It was honestly kind of attractive.

But I'd heard him coming from a long way off - chainmail isn't exactly silent. And I'd neglected to put my contacts back in. Aware but oblivious, I'd let him come across me and my little hideaway, and I'd let him see the real color of my eyes. Shit, shit, shit.

"My people have superstitions about silver-eyed elves. It doesn't mesh with their image of half-breeds, so I cover them in green to avoid inspection. But they do get uncomfortable after a long day, so I take them out at night or in battle."

I stood with a little bit of a grunt; though my armor had absorbed most of the day's violence and I'd been able to heal a few deep wounds, my ribs were still bruised and my body was still sore. I don't know if he heard it; the sound was soft even to my ears. Even if he did, I moved directly on, taking Hecatonchier and depositing it next to Elendethoa and my daggers. I'd let him use the longsword because it was far too big for me to use effectively, but it had been an incredibly expensive gift. Enchanted swords don't grow on trees.

"Thank you for returning my sword. I'm so unused to having it that I forgot I'd lent it out. Were you able to see everyone home safely?"

I motioned to the ground, inviting him to take a seat if he so desired.

[SerCasimir]

She seemed a bit slow in her movements, but he had seen her take a knock or two, and they'd had a very long march, so it was only to be expected. Casimir nodded and sat beside her gratefully. His body suddenly felt like it was on the verge of failure. He had not known that about elves, but it seemed reasonable that she would wish to hide such things in her situation. The world was cruel. He placed his pack down and offered her the jug of wine.
"Aye I was, everyone is well. It has been quite a day."

He bent over and removed his boots for the first time in two days.
"I saw you take a knock or two, nothing too serious I hope?"

[The Mongrel]

I settled beside him, taking the jug and drinking from it. I nearly choked at the taste. Given the shape of the vessel, I'd expected some sort of beer or ale. Once the initial shock wore off, the wine was tolerable enough. If I have to drink wine, I prefer hearty Coronian reds like the one offered. It really just needed some time to breathe.

"Glancing blows." I handed the jug back, a little surprised at the question. He'd stood over me to give me a moment's respite after a particularly bad stab found its way through my armor, and he 'saw me take a knock or two?'

You're taking the orcish gift for understatement to a new level, mellonamin.

"What of you? You're made of sturdier stuff than I am and wear stronger armor, but I saw you taking some good hits, as well."

[SerCasimir]

He chuckled and took the jug back, taking a deep swig. It was good enough, and helped ease the pain of his own knocks and wounds. She had fought bravely as any knight, and with a grace that was nearly poetic in it's beauty. He wished dearly for such prowess. At least one of his ribs was broken, and he had a few flesh wounds. It mattered not, his body was seamed with scars.
"Nothing wine won't cure."

He handed her the jug again, and stood to begin removing his armor. Mail was easy enough, and soon he wore only breeches and gambeson, torn in a spot or two. He sat back down, untying the front of the gambeson enough to make himself more comfortable.
"Where will you go, come morning?"

[The Mongrel]

I drank a little and balanced the jug on my knee while waiting for him to remove his armor. Between the long treks and the hard-fought battle, the man had taken enough physical abuse to take me down while carrying a burden I wouldn't have been able to move under. Sturdy stuff, indeed. He seemed to shrink with the armor off, though. Before, he'd been almost as physically imposing as my Mutt, if a good deal shorter. Now...

Stars, he's small for a half-orc. Not that that takes any fight out of him, though... I let my eyes trail over some of the scars he revealed for a moment, then took another drink and returned the jug. Soft foliage and rough bark pressed against my back as I turned my gaze once more to the sky.

"Back to Scara City, then out to wherever my employer sends me next. If the weather's good and the terrain not too treacherous, I can cover two hundred miles in a day, if necessary. I prefer not to go more than a hundred and fifty, though. More than that is exhausting, and you should see the looks I get when I sit down to a meal after crossing such a distance in such a short amount of time. Have you got plans?"

[SerCasimir]

Casimir heard the distance she quoted and his eyes went wide. Such a distance on foot? It would take him three on horseback to make such a journey.
"I knew you were fast my lady, but such speed is incredible. Were anyone but you to tell me such a thing, i'd laugh and call them a liar. Something about you makes me believe it though."
He took the wine back and had another long drink, letting the dark red nectar ease his aches and pains. IT was a beautiful night, and the wine was so heady.
"I plan to make for Raiaera. There are fiends aplenty there, and a strong sword arm will be most welcome, even if it belongs to one such as me."

[The Mongrel]

"Raiaera is undeserving of your arm." My tone took an edge as hard as prevalida. "It forces to the margins any who are marginally different, any whose views differ from the High Bards', any who don't meet the definition of perfect. People like you. People like me. And for what? Raiaera is suffering, and there are fiends. Not ten years ago, the Forgotten One Xem'Zund stormed through the most populous regions and wiped them out; more elves died during the two years of his terror than in the five hundred preceding. And then what did the Council do? Did they seek aid from all corners of the world to help purge the curse laid on so much of the country and give their refugees something to return to? No. They sought help to purge the Belegwain I Beleg of the Forgotten One Pode, who wasn't threatening anyone who didn't encroach on her forest. The Lindequalme has been cursed for over a thousand years, so why in Haide seek such ancient vengeance when instead there is a pressing need?"

I'd have spat if I were human. My native land had my hate for many reasons, that not least among them. If the Council had sought to cleanse the Plaguelands instead of the Red Forest, most of the Raiaerans who had flooded into Corone could go home and get the hell out of my country.

Cool air, perfumed by Scara Brae's plentiful night blossoms, flooded into my lungs. A deep, calming breath brought me back to center, and I turned to the knight. The moonlight played on the noble (if lumpy) lines of his face, and even my rant hadn't shaken the optimism and hope from his expression. Well, once an orc has an idea in their head, it's not going to go anywhere easily. It's one of their best and worst traits.

"The world can use an arm like yours, Casimir." I reached out and placed my hand on his bicep. "But I would urge you to choose somewhere that deserves your valor and a people who deserve your heart. Not some snobbish lulgijakri."

[SerCasimir]

She reached out and touched his arm, and he smiled warmly. He knew the people of Raiaera would treat him poorly, but was it truly as bad as she said? And if it was as bad as that, did it matter? Raiaera seemed to have the most need of someone like him. He looked into her eyes, noting for the first time how like unto the starlight they were, and he had another swig of the wine, feeling it warm his body. He chuckled at her use of the word lulgijakri, and nodded.

"Thank you Kon. I will think on this."

He had another sip and looked at her again. The moonlight shone in her hair and on her skin, and he had to look away a moment. He had never met a woman like her. She was beautiful, deadly, and she treated him like a person. Most women saw him as an eyesore at best, a monster at worst.

Her Mutt had been a lucky man.