Hassan
Azai
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

The grip on his weapon tightened once more, but Azai shook his head with a sigh. He looked down at his wounded hands, his blood staining his clothes as it flowed down his exposed forearms. The white haired youth threw his sword on the ground by Shaydrin's feet, letting him take it and get a better understanding of how the blade was built. If the faint sunlight that still lingered hit the weapon at just the right angle, Shaydrin might have noticed old carvings near the base of the blade, the golden trimmings having washed away ages ago. In its current state, however, it was probably worthless outside of being turned back into raw metal.

"Fine, tell me then."

His bloody hands pulled the fur cloak tighter around his frame once more as he leaned back against the tree, his nose having turned a little red. For now, he seemed to be calm. But Shaydrin would notice Azai's focus kept going back to his weapon. It was important to him, clearly.
Ramiro
Shaydrin Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plains

Shaydrin thought he saw the boy's hand tensing around his hilt in the corner of his eye. His own muscles had answered by readying to flick his sword up to knock aside an incoming strike. But then the boy contemplated the blood he was shedding, and subsequently cast his sword into the snow.

Shaydrin raised an eyebrow at the weapon. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen. He looked up at the boy and saw that he kept his gaze on the discarded sword. *No doubt there's a story behind that sword,* He thought, *But such questions can wait.*

"The men who are camped in this forest are the most godless savages on the face of the continent. They'd tear each other apart over women, drink, and coin in one night if Lord Vivayn and people like me weren't here to keep a firm hand on them. You need to understand, Azai, that I'm a *Skagerlly*, and if any of my brothers had found you here? Especially Mallsrek?" Shaydrin stooped down to pick up Azai's weapon, grinning at him. "Well, thank the gods you aren't a woman."

He grunted slightly as he pulled the sword with only one hand, drawing it up against him with the point to the ground. "The reason I'm takin' this is that any of them seein' a stranger with a weapon is practically a death sentence. They're always lookin' for a good challenge, especially when they're as bored out of their minds as they are now. They *Would* Defeat you, and you would be *Blessed* If they simply cut you down right after. I've seen what some of them do with their new 'playthings.'"

Using Azai's sword in imitation of a walking stick, Shaydrin stepped closer. With an elegant motion, he sheathed his own sword. He went to touch the boy's shoulder, but he quickly ascertained from the boy's body language that this wouldn't be a wise decision. He rested it on his hilt. "I'm not Mallsrek, with his bear-hands and his lust for the feel and the sound of crunching bones and collapsing windpipes. I'm not Reimrik with his little knives he loved to make works of 'living art' with. Nor am I Glister, with the very specific ways in which he takes out his anger over having such a meagre 'endowment' from the gods. 

"I'm *Shaydrin*. I'm the only good Skagerlly, the only one who isn't driven by an insatiable desire to take life. I'll keep you safe, but you need to trust me. This is a den of wolves you're enterin'. The only alternative is the cold, and—" He gazed out into the wilderness, "—it's lookin' very hungry tonight."
Hassan
Azai
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

"I don't care who does what. He who strikes me or considers me easy pickings will be crushed under my heel without question. All I need is food and fire, then I'll move on."

With that said, Azai begun to walk towards the camp, leaving a faint trail of blood behind him. His world was small, only a fraction compared to what others lived in daily. But, being raised in seclusion would limit anyone's experiences in the larger world. Perhaps his neutrality could be used to the advantage of others, seeing as he had no bias, no sides to choose from. But, he'd need some proper rest first. At the very least he didn't seem the type to just lay there and take it. However, that might lead to its own troubles. Standing up for oneself like that might earn the respect of some, and the scorn of others. 

"Lead me to camp. I'll join your forces for now, so I can earn enough coin to get me further south when the time comes for me to leave."

He said, turning his head just enough to get a good look at Shaydrin as he walked off. Was that decision made on the fly? Possibly. Then again, Azai himself knew he had no other paths open to him at the moment.
Ramiro
Shaydrin Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

Shaydrin snorted at the Azai's dismissive claims. The idea of anyone 'crushing' Mallsrek 'under their heel' was amusing to him, and he was sure that this lad would change his mind about the hulking brute when he saw him. Still, he couldn't help but admire the boy's spunk. He gazed upon the faint little droplets of blood that followed the boy and imagined the true beast-men of the army closing in on its scent, eyes bright and mouths watering.

Shaydrin gave a prospecting look when the boy turned to regard him. For a while, they trod the snow in silence. The scent of the burning dead grew stronger and stronger. Shaydrin pinched the corner of his cloak and held the chilly wool against his nose, sighing. "What's your name, boy?" When he got his answer, his next question was, "And what's your story? I wasn't expecting to find some waifish snow wolf with a queer old sword on my evening piss."
Hassan
Azai
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

"Azai."

The lad was quiet for a while, simply holding his cloak tight around his frame. Soon, he'd be able to sit down by the fire, perhaps he'd even get some scraps of food. But, the thoughts of what was to come were pushed back. How would he tell his story? What was his story, even? Compared to the ones he was told as a child, these recent events certainly weren't all that grand or fantastical. 

"I'm just trying to find my place in the world."

He didn't really know what to say. But, what he said instead was still the truth. He had nothing holding him to this world anymore, he'd have to find his purpose and place. Mercenary work would suit him just fine for now. Perhaps if he got lucky, this army would move further south after their business here concluded.
Ramiro
Shaydrin Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

Shaydrin hmphed. He himself knew precisely where *His* Place was, and with his errands growing more and more frequent, he was often painfully withheld from that place. He was responsible for someone else's life at the present moment, and he was still trying to determine whether or not it was a life worth protecting.

"I've got a feelin' it isn't with us, but maybe we'll have use for your sword, as you suggest. This army won't be headin' south, though, just to let you know. As far as I know, Lord Vivayn is pressin' all the way to Grand Stead in this campaign. Once we're in the Ashfields, it's going to be a *Real* War. You think you'll be stickin' with us even then, snow fox?" That sounded right to him. 'Snow fox', not 'snow wolf.' To Shaydrin, the boy just had that reticent quality about him. "If you do, you'll be headin' down south with a hefty purse, if you're still alive."
Hassan
Azai
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

"I'm used to the cold."

He responded, deep in thought as they kept walking towards the camp. He wouldn't be able to leave these cursed lands for a while... But then again, he'd be able to learn more about the world through this army. Not to mention, he'd most likely have a better chance surviving in the unknown lands after he's had some more experience in life or death battles. However, he didn't seem to be bothered by the chance that he might die.

"Just gear me up and point me to where the battle is, it doesn't have to be more complicated than that."

Such a simple life indeed, a small world with little worries for the larger issues around him. Seemed they were nearing the camp as well, it was time to see how things would go with Azai being introduced to this group.
Ramiro
Shaydrin Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

The stench was pungent now. The great pit was filling the air with a hollow roar as the putrid flesh of the plague victims burned away inside.

"I'd say we're far enough from a battle at the moment," Said Shaydrin, staring into the fire. "Though Vivayn mightn't use these particular words, we're occupyin' House Barrmount right now. As I said, we've been puttin' down a lot of sick villages on the way here, and I'd say there'll be more to come, so I hope you have the stomach for cuttin' down the unarmed."

Shaydrin hadn't had to kill too many himself so far. Three of his victims had been obvious plague victims; slaying *Them* Had been merciful, in his mind. The fourth had been a flaxen-haired woman wailing over her children. He remembered how his stomach had churned at the sight of her, how it had exhumed bad, bad memories. With a shaking sigh, he'd stooped down to gently take her shoulder and whisper an apology into her ear. As soon as she'd gotten a look at his face, his knife had pierced her heart. She'd died whimpering in his arms.

"Got family, snow fox?" He said, his voice barely above a whisper; the question had been an impulsive one. His eyes still squinted at the fire.
Hassan
Azai
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

"None."

He didn't say much more than that. The smell was definitely unpleasant to say the least, but Azai didn't complain. He was worried about killing the plague bearers, but he couldn't know how he'd react until he was actually there to do the deed. Azai still felt something in him from what happened between him and his brother. Would this awful feeling ever vanish, or would it remain with him forever? Azai did not know, nor was he in a mood or shape to really think about these things. The faster they got to camp, the better. In fact, Shaydrin could hear Azai's stomach growl every few steps.
Ramiro
Shaydrin Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

Shaydrin stared at the back of Azai's head. He wondered what had happened to the boy's kin. The plague? The cold? Murder? Had *He* Murdered them? The Witherlands was ever a land of possibilities.

He decided to stifle his questions for the rest of the way to his tent. The horrific odour of the flaming pit eventually petered out as they came to the camp proper, replaced by the pervasive scent of woodsmoke. It was a sprawling cantonment that seemed to accommodate several thousand men, clinging to a mighty stone fortress that was encircled by a wooden wall. Shaydrin identified it to Azai as Castle Barrmount.

Nathaniel Vivayn's bannermen surrounded them. As the two drew nearer to Shaydrin's tent, the men became more and more rugged and fierce-looking. Shaydrin identified these men as the vassals of House Skagerlly. Whereas the others they had passed had been mostly indifferent to Shaydrin, these ones all regarded him with either respectful nods, shared addresses by name, or looks of fear.

Eventually, they came to Shaydrin's tent. He opened the flap; inside was a mousy-looking man who ate porridge out of a bowl as he stared vacantly into the tent's fire. Shaydrin clicked his tongue. "Geremias." The servant looked up. "Fetch me some tea. I have a guest." The servant nodded quickly and set his bowl down before scurrying out past them. 

Inside the tent, beside the small fire, two sheets of bearskin made up a bed on the ground, and there was also a low writing desk consisting of a small wooden chest with an ink bottle, a quill, and a few sheets of parchment on top. Shaydrin held the flap open for Azai and pointed to two stools in the corner. "Grab a stool. Do you drink tea? Do you know what tea *Is*, for that matter?"
Hassan
Azai
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

The new scent of woodsmoke was a welcome change, though it didn't get much of a reaction out of Azai. As they passed through the camp, the lad didn't seem to react to anything around him, only focused on getting to a warm place, to sit down and take a break. And once they arrived, he indeed grabbed a stool and sat down, an audible sigh of relief escaping him as he kept his fur tight around him still.

"Of course I do. I'm no barbarian..."

He closed his eyes for the moment, just glad to be somewhere relatively safe. As for what happened next, he didn't know. The world of knights, servants, kings and castles was foreign to him, but he did want to be a part of it. Perhaps it was a sense of desperation, as he did not know who he'd become. It was a very confusing time for him, but Azai knew one thing for sure; he could always walk away without a second thought.
Ramiro
Shaydrin Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

Shaydrin stepped inside after Azai, letting the flap close behind him. After both of their swords down by the fire, he undid his cloak's binding knot, then shrugged it off and held it to his nose. Cringing at the lingering whiff of death, he threw the cloak into the corner and kneeled by his little drawing desk. With a key from his pouch, he unlocked the little chest, and from it, he produced a small, open bottle that contained sticks of incense. "Always good to have some of this stuff on hand. Might be the best thing *You've* Smelled in quite a while, I'd reckon."

He grabbed a stool and came around the fire. The flames made their gentle crackling noise against the distant sounds of the camp outside, and threw Shaydrin's lean shadow against the wall as he moved. He sat down across from Azai and began poking the tips of each incense stick into the flames. Each came out with an orange light at its tip, producing thin wisps of smoke.

Shaydrin spoke dryly, without lifting his eyes above the flames: "Tell me how you came by that blade. I've never seen anything like it."