Stephen
Maren Tockett
Cold

It seemed like they were all a little frightening, but Maren didn't mind. She was worried about the lady named Cat eating so fast. That was all. She ate her small amount, slowly, allowing herself to savor every bite. She liked this Chef's food. It took a little moment before she finally looked up at Catarina and piped up again, her small voice barely carrying over the crackling fire.

"If you eat too fast you'll get sick." She said with a nod at both of them. She took another bite, chowing down with obvious appreciation, but meticulous execution. "Or too much. It is better to... Uh. Not?" She couldn't think of a word to describe her meaning. "Go slow." She finished with a curt nod. She then looked at Shaye again. She wondered if she was strong.
Sharon
Shaye Hallenshire
Witherland Roads

The Cartographer blushed as attention shifted to her and the tall woman immediately attempted to tuck her head; taking a deep breath, she answered in a voice shockingly soft for her stature, "Shaye" 

The woman's fingers began to tap— her name, at least, was something she couldn't mess up. Red flooded to her ears once more as the child looked at her, and with every shed of confidence, Shaye offered a small smile. *Hopefully that doesn't scare her.*
Raul
Catarina Tanner
Witherlands Roadside

"Nice to meet you, Shaye," Catarina replied with a warmth that was reflective of her homeland, so different from the bitter chill of the north. Granted, the north would be her grave, most likely, and she would face the end alone at the edge of the world. Still, she silently thanked the gods that had cursed her that they had seen fit to bless her with companions along the way. Even in this frozen wasteland, she somehow managed to stumble across people who were giving and kind, when they often had very little, just as she did. 

She smiled at Shaye, finding her reprimanding rather adorable, and nodded in agreement. "You're right," She replied. "I forgot my manners. I'm sorry." She rose from her seat and went around to the small pile of firewood, scooped up a log, and added it to the fire as she continued chatting. "I have a little girl too. About your age, probably. Her name is Mireli, though everyone calls her Miri for short." She was mainly talking to Maren, but in truth she was talking to anyone who would listen. It had been so long since she has last had contact with anyone that she was dying for a bit of conversation! She scooped up a large stick and used it to push the other logs in the fire closer together, hoping to make the fire burn a little warmer. Sparks shot up into the sky as she poked around in the fire. Hopefully she could spark up a conversation as well!
Hassan
General Wendy Margir
The outskirts of the Witherlands

As he spoke, the general watched him intently. She was holding back a smirk, but a small tug on her lips still betrayed her secondhand delight at seeing this man yearn for more. She was a woman of ambition, herself. And though she usually preferred her own goals over those of both peers and underlings, there was something about this nomad's story that interested her. Perhaps it was the carnal side of her, wanting to take a sorry man and exploit him for her own gain. Even she could admit that her motive, and next question, was at least somewhat connected to that sadistic part of her.

_But_ , she was also willing to believe that she genuinely wanted to offer this burned clansman a better outlet for his prowess. There was no doubt that he was strong. And they'd all seen him hunt. He had skills, and they deserved to be used for more than just hunting. So, her next statement was obvious.

"It _would_ be great," Wendy said, leaning forward. Her gaze wasn't as passive as it had been while they were making small talk. They were now alight with desire. "If I'm being honest, I think that I could use a man like you, Taichar. You're strong. Capable enough to brave these elements alone. Your life of justice would easily suit my cause to see the Witherlands united under the house that is most deserving."

Wendy leaned back for a moment, slightly shrugging her shoulders. 

"I have access to resources that could help you build up your clan, again. I would only require that your loyalty remain pledged to me."

She ignored the men watching them, sensing their unease. _I know what I'm doing,_ she thought to herself, hardly able to contain her anticipation.

"Join me," She finally said. "If you are seeking purpose, I have plenty to give you."
Ellen
Taichar-Yu
Outskirts of the Wildlands

Taichar was a very paranoid man and for good reason. For all he had been through in life, there wasn't a lot of room to play nicely and say his yeses and pleases and thank you's like so many others had. His fingers tensed and untensed on the fork he head, taking bites with his eyes affixed in curious perplexment on the general.

He was really wondering one big question: what did she see in him? He swallowed the food in his mouth and spoke, "A man able to bear this wilderness is not a man; he is a beast. Of course— beasts of war are ones of cunning and ones of cruelty. I could never imagine myself doing such a thing."

There was a long silence and his smile turned into one that seemes reborn in the firelight. He missed the wardrums, he missed the feeling of sending the arrows like lethal extensions of a god's willing hand.

"I would never have thought such a thing until I met you. I see your men and your power on even such a small scale. May I be guided to a warm shore when I die for this; but I will join you on several conditions, small, but conditions regardless. I want a small party of freshly recruited bowmen for me to train and teach, I want a place to call an official home. That being a piece of land for me to build upon. Finally, I want your word on something."

His face floated close to her and his voice shattered stones as he whispered with the ominous strength it carried, "If I give you my loyalty, you must give me yours. I may not be familiar with houses. But I am familiar with betrayal."
Hassan
General Wendy Margir
The outskirts of the Witherlands

Wendy stared into Taichar's eyes as he gave his conditions, feeling herself leaning closer to the fire. By now, both of their voices were so hushed that she doubted her men could hear. Usually, she'd be cautious about making herself vulnerable like this, shrouding herself in secrecy with a stranger. But this all was too intoxicating. She could almost _feel_ Taichar's power, and it was almost hers. Almost.

"Once we return to my family's manor, I'll give you your men. We have plenty of land, and we'll surely expand once this war is over. You may have your share, to begin your family, again," Wendy said, practically grinning by now. Something in her face seemed... Off. Just enough for her men to begin whispering to each other, feeling uneasy enough to begin fingering their weapons. The general laughed slightly to herself. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already. You have my word. No harm will befall you, as long as you perform in the interests of my house. And, of House Carter."

The general stood herself up, stretching out her hand toward the clansman. Her horse, still standing behind her, grunted and dug its feet into the snowy ground, impatient.

"You will come with me. Yes?"

She waited, her smile temporarily gone. At this moment, she stood over him. She hoped, though, that he would soon stand _with_ her, instead.
Ellen
Taichar-Yu
Outskirts of the Witherlands
Taichar remained seated. He was smiling with the same unexplainable emotion, doubt, hunger of conquest and glory, and an unsettling and obvious violence that had been surpressing for months. He was a very passive and modest man unless provoke and swore he lived on the bow for all that he ate. He ate spoils of war. His bow gobbled up clan family trees and unsuspecting raiders like breakfast.

His face shifted almost instantly to a deadpanned frown as he stood up. He was even more menacing standing the he was sitting. His broad shoulders made his chest puff out and as the fire moved from his face to his body, the scarlet embroidery in his silk robe was visible. Maybe it was dyed in blood. His tragic story gave way to a broken man of violence, although he did not enjoy to see men suffer out of pleasure; rather in justice and by the willingness of the laws of this cruel land.

His hand touched hers. His palm was like cowshide in how tough it was, his fingers raw and taut with dexterity from the bow and carefully tanning animals. The fingers closed and even in a light squeeze he could very well break her hand.

"Lovely— I am greatly pleased in that. If a family is not something I can have, I will gladly accept and train an army. To me, warbrothers are as much family as are sons and daughters." He slowly shook his hand and his smile returned. 

"As would have I. Your word is sacred, may you hold true to it. For your safety and that of your house." He barely breathed those words and they came in a raspy and dangerously sinister growl. *He, unlike the sorrowed nomad telling a tale of loss, was now a battered and hardened bowman. His noble blood boiled. He was a masterful tracker and hunter alike; both of animal and of those who wronged him. Not for money. Not for fame. For the rightness of his heart. That is what made him so powerful.*
Hassan
General Wendy Margir
A small village inn

"Are we killing this one?" Galen asked, riding close to Wendy. He kept his voice low, glancing back toward their traveling party. Galen was the man she'd been looking at for cues earlier that night. He was one of Wendy's most trusted soldiers, and his stealth had always served her well.

The group was riding—and walking—in a pattern that would block the incoming wind from those in the rear. Wendy didn't mind taking the front, with Galen. She was too invigorated for feel deterred by the cold.

"Gods, no," Wendy said, glancing behind her. She smiled to herself as she watched Taichar traveling with the rest of them. For now, he stood out. But soon, she was sure he'd blend in among them all. "I still want to see more of what he can do.."

Galen hesitated, watching the way the general's eyes seemed to be glued to the clansman, almost as if in a trance. He merely cleared his throat.

"Of course, ma'am," He said, focusing his attention forward again. "I just advise that we be careful. We're getting further and further away from safe territory. Perhaps taking risks like these isn't the most wise—"

"I _know_ what I'm doing," The general snapped, her attention quickly shifting to the man riding beside her. 

At this, Galen simply swallowed and adjusted his collar.

"Right. My apologies."

———————

After about a half hour of riding, the small party found their way to an inn. It was practically empty, so choosing rooms wasn't a hassle. They were arriving late at night, but the innkeepers still had some stew warmed up in a pot. They offered it to the group, and those who wanted to eat some, could. 

Wendy, herself, took a moment to warm herself up in the small lobby of the inn, sitting down by the fireplace and unlatching her cloak.
Ellen
Taichar-Yu
Following the General

He was a very passionate and adept rider. He had known the steppes every since he was very young and transitioned from the harsh, brutal cold to mild tempered but depressingly gray pastures in the summer. His horse was one of south-eastern breed, incredibly large in muscle composition with tufts of thick fur upon its back and hooves for extra warmth. It sighed as they trampled through the snow. Taichar could barely make out their quiet murmurs of suspicion but his eyes were fixed forwards with well-disciplined manners. He was no mere barbarian. The only noise he made was the occasional comforting words directed towards his horse in an unrecognizable, forgotten tongue. He was surrounded by people and yet all eyes were on him— he felt alone. In a confident sense; he would prove himself to these people.

At the inn, he brought in what light baggage he had. The ribs of his tent, the covering tarp, his wok, a few bundles of other provisions and other things. The rabbits he had yet to finished skinning but wrapped them in salt and stuffed them in a flat wooden box for preserving until he could. He stood by the door when he entered and looked around in observant curiosity. He hadn't been in one of these in quite some time. He shrugged off his coat and set it aside. 

Taichar-Yu's robes were magnificent. A fine oceanic blue with impressions of tidal waves and storms in a deep Persian blue, oriental flowers threaded in scarlet red that ran up his chest and onto his shoulders which were separated by small pointed ruby-red pauldrons affixed to baggy, flowing silken sleeves, slightly torn from his time in the wilds but were still of fantastic quality.

Taichar stood by the fire with his hands outstretched to the flames, watching the fires dance with calm eyes. The metal plating of his boots gleamed brilliantly and the embroidery in his robe seemed to wink at the men in the lobby. He spoke in calm, "It would be rather unfortunate if this turned out to be some elaborate hoax, wouldn't it?" He said with a lighthearted chuckle. As he stood in the much fairer and noticeably stronger light of the inn his true form was made present. 

He was quite admirable even for his slightly ripened age for his built body and chiseled profile, even though his wrinkles were much softer out of dramatic lighting but still sadly present.. He was strong and he had that charm of foreign nature that made him stand out in an enchanting way.