<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/Wxjr1KN.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Tyrel (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1716223)<br/><strong>Time of day:</strong>Mid-morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Castle Plaza, outskirts of crowd<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open,Alyssa. Mentioned Freya and Garret<br/><strong>Notes:</strong>None<br/><br/><br/>Though the day was warm and comfortable, the wind still bore an ill chill for the equine warrior, death was carried on in that morning and this plaza was testament to the fact. He stood at the edge, his violet eyes, forever changed by the rite that granted him his power, looked over the crowd gathered there and the spectacle on display. A man dare try to kill the king and was captured, he held no malice towards the man, nor did he hold pity for he had wrought the consequences of his actions. Still let the man die with a sword in his hands, not with arms bound and head bagged. He shook his head and his eyes glanced to the Gladiators, and the troops stationed above the wall to protect those that had more, but did not earn single red cent of it. He supposed for those that had nothing, this might have been a spectacle worth seeing, those that thanked the king for their lot in life weather good or ill. Tyrel had not met him, so he had not the chance to form an opinion of the man yet.<br/><br/>He adjusted the sack of good on his shoulder, his Employer Freya, or mistress in this land to keep up the pretense of the master/slave relationship was still occupied, so he waited. As he did so his eyes laid upon an unusual sight indeed. The antelope was certainly dressed to draw attention, though he supposed a Horse in scale mail carrying a sack of goods was quite unusual as well, especially at nearly seven feet in height. He could feel a tension rising in the air, not just with what was happening on the platform as the headsman finished his preparations and took his mark, but as the appearance of this young Ungulus seemed to cause a spark of activity.<br/><br/>He let the bag slip from his shoulder, held now in one hand as he watched her turn to confront her pursuers, and his first good look at her sparked a memory within him. One of his youth when he was wounded and treated at a temple in the lands dedicated to the earth mother, the young antelope learning the healing arts beside her teacher. Maybe he was mistaken, but it was enough to sway him in his own internal debate. He called upon the power awakened to him and connected to her through tendrils of invisible thought and power.<br/><br/><em>"Don't be afraid, I aim to help. you need only think of the need and I shall assist you."</em>he spoke to her through his thoughts, the intention and the words transcending any language barrier.