Private Tales The Mountain Pass

[Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar]

He would pause briefly to watch her use her weird elven soap, it was.. remarkable. He would have to get some from Eredale. And soon the scent of lemon and pine needles filled the air. "Mm, my favorite scent." He would muse aloud.

Any of which who are quite so noble as you, Syr Rangvaldr?

"Not at all." He replied with a smirk. "They are nobility, but I never wanted them to know the burden of it. Against our mothers wishes, I encouraged them to pursue whatever lives they wished, so long as when the time came, they rose to the occasion to serve the House."

Rising to his feet, he would undo the laces and buckles of his gambeson before lifting it up and over his head, where he was finally clad in just a white tunic. The tunic came free easily enough and would join the rest of the clothing on the bank, before he waded into the creek. "You remind me a bit of my brother's, Drastus and Kavaros, its been refreshing."

If she cautioned a glance, she would see that dozens of scars adorned his body, the most prominent of such being four wide elongated cuts along his left rib cage and a solitary matching mark, just below his sternum. She would also be able to note a surprising amount of tattoos along his upper arms and torso. "Drastus has a bond of sorts to a skeleton and Kavaros could likely match you in wit and sharpness of tongue. I'm afraid you would hate Kailani."

---

Petra Darthinian

 

[Petra Darthinian]

The pop and sizzling of her cleaning tablet was music to her ears while it scoured the dirt and blood from her hair. Dexterous claws making quick work of the riotous tangles when she heard Valdr marvel at her small piece of magic. Laughing companionably, she answered, "You have excellent taste then, for it's mine too. My mother is actually the one who made it! She has a slew of other kinds of magic soap tablets at the apothecary she works at in Eredale. If you happen to beguile her with your knightly charms, I'm sure when you leave, you'll find a handful mysteriously slipped into your pocket and a note to be safe." The words tugged at her heart; she missed those small things about her mom, the simple acts that showed she cared. Guilt rising as she remembered the way she had passed Eredale on her way to the coast a month before, for she lacked the energy to see her family then, to face them.

Petra listened to Valdr as the last of the cleaning magic dissolved and she wrung her wet hair out the best she could before flipping her head up. Now that her arms, face, and hair were clean, she decided that she would finish bathing at her home in Eredale and just change into her clean clothes until they got there. It wasn't as if she was afraid of nudity. In fact, as an elf, it was just another piece of nature, natural as breathing. But considering the chivalrous sensibilites of her warden companion, she would do him the courtesy of letting him bathe in peace.

"You remind me a bit of my brother's, Drastus and Kavaros, its been refreshing."

The thought brought a wry smile to her face and she turned to tease him.

But the sight of his scars stopped her mid sentence. She herself had three small white scars that cut through the corner of her mouth to the cleft of her chin. But they had faded with age. The ones on the Warden's body were stark and prominent. They told a story of many battles, but victories nonetheless. What pain had this man known? What amount of death? But his next words surprised a snort from her. "A skeleton?! Ha! Now that sounds like a good story. As for Kavaros, I shall take that as high praise indeed, he must be exceedingly charming then. Or insufferable. Either way, I'm glad my wit hasn't gone unnoticed." She chuckled. "As for Kailani, I will take that with a grain of salt. Since so far, you've been an excellent first impession of your house."

Realizing she was still staring perplexedly, she averted her gaze, snatching her clothes from the bank and walked back to her gelding; who had wandered some yards to a patch of field grass. Moving to the side where her horse was between herself and Valdr's line of sight, she began to quickly strip. Eager to be in clothes that didn't stink of blood. Her leather armor would be a different matter, one she would have to bear until they arrived in Eredale.

Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar

 

[Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar]

He paused until the water was an inch below his waist before he pulled his greaves off, some twisting, some bending, some close calls in terms of revelations until his greaves went sailing towards the shore and landed with a plop.

"Lavender is my second, it reminds me of the Caer." Though he would laugh. "If you mean, act like a gentleman with some respect, then yes, I will." Magick soap?! Perhaps she would gift him some for Route. Or better yet, he could establish trade and then ship them to Vel Ehn.

"Should you ever meet Drastus, you should ask him about it. I'm sure it is quite the tale. All I know of the matter, is he is a necromancer and the skeletons name is Rupert, after one of our caretakers. He perished when Doran did. As for Kavaros, little column a, little column b, depending on the day." He would lower himself into the water before he popped the cork on the vial he had taken from his pocket, prior to tossing the pants. The oil was poured onto his body when he rose back to his feet and he would begin to lather the oils to get himself nice and clean. "Kailani.. is an acquired taste. She acts as if she's ashamed to be of such a lowly house. Has no desire to represent it, only herself. Drastus will likely marry a Pirian and Kavaros needs a fresh start, which is why I am sending him to represent us in Astenvale."

He turned to face her, that v-cleft in his waist just peeking above the water and laughed. "The decorum of Tal'deneshaar ends with me." He then noticed her staring. "Scars or tattoos?" He assumed it was one of those due to the fact she was an Elf and he held no delusion that she hadnt yet experienced life's greatest moments. His question would find her suddenly retreating from the water.

Seeing her dress behind her courser, he would laugh. "Didn't think you would be clutching your pearls." He would taunt, his back turning to her.

---

Petra Darthinian

 

[Petra Darthinian]

Her cold and wet hair clung to her naked back and raised goosebumps all over her body.

Hurry hurry hurry. She chanted to herself. Rushing to don her fresh set of clothes. Dropping the soiled ones to the ground as she undressed.

"Drastus will likely marry a Pirian and Kavaros needs a fresh start, which is why I am sending him to represent us in Astenvale."

That got her attention. She popped her head over the back of her horse to raise an eyebrow at Valdr.

"Pirian?! Isn't that a Dreadlord house? Arranged, or...? Her unasked question clear. "And Astenvale? To represent you to whom exactly?" For she knew that often the noble families of humans married for political gain, and the offspring of those Lords and Dukes pushed together into a contractual marriage. For an elf, it was a foreign practice to her people. Sex and other relationships were casual and varied in any kind of diversity, welcomed even. But as an elf, there was usually only one life partner. Chosen and bonded through the will and blessing of a ritual done by the Keeper. Petra herself had carried on a dalliance for several decades with a fellow songweaver named Jhaamgred Lhaluan. Had spent most of that time in Fal-Addas exploring with him and other elves they had met and chose to partner with. Even though he had been by her side when Seraphine died, she knew that they were not meant to be life partners. So the thought of people so young being used to gain political power made her angry with the injustice of stolen youth.

As for the matter of Valdr's, apparently insufferable, other younger brother coming to Astenvale, she was curious as to his need for a fresh start.

She finished dressing and begain restrapping on her leather armor, the sound of her horse munching on grass next to her adding to the peace of the bubbling creek when Valdr called out and teased her for doing something she thought was thoughtful for him.

Pfffft. With a mock glare she quietly sang under her breath to a pebble on the bank and rallied a modicum of force into it. Enough to prove a playful point and nothing more. Her song lifted it and sent it shooting straight to the back of the Warden's head as he turned away from her,

SMACK

On impact, Petra immediately released her song and began whistling away as if she had been minding her own elven business the entire time.

Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar

 

[Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar]

Pirian?! Isn't that a Dreadlord house? Arranged, or...? And Astenvale? To represent you to whom exactly?

"It is, one of the Major Houses. We've been allies with them since we formed." He laughed the moment she said 'arranged'. "No. Perhaps some of my other siblings will be, but Drastus and Kristen are in love. If I enter negotiations with her father, it's to ensure that he doesn't know the heartbreak of her being married off to someone else." He would say as he scrubbed his torso. "Unfortunately, my House is seen as a pariah, we lack the xenophobia of many houses. As for Kavaros, he and a few others gifted with magick will go to the Knights of Anathaeum to cement my alliance with them."

He had taunted her and lo and behold a pebble sailed through the air and collided with his shoulderblade. He would crouch and his hand would sift along the creekbed where he picked up a river stone and flicked it back at her, her whistling and turning away keeping it just beyond her line of sight.

Twap.

The rock smacked the horses broadside and it would flinch, its head swaying to smack against her side.

---

Petra Darthinian

 

[Petra Darthinian]

"Well I wish them every happiness of love then. Should we all be so lucky." There was a wistful note to her voice before it colored with surprise, "And the Knights of Anathaeum? Have they mustered enough prowess to finally be legible for alliances then?" She knew as much as the next passing person about the Knights. Not enough to know their in-depth politics, let alone the inner workings of their ranks and that reflection on alliances with surrounding noble houses.

She continued to whistle away while she braided bits of hair, preparing to adorn them with gold metal clasps and rings, as was her usual. She hadn't had an opportunity after her soak in the hot springs that ended with a startle of a lifetime. Already that seemed like days ago.

She was mulling over which bauble to put at the end of her current braid, when her elf ears caught the soft whizz through the air of a projectile, quirking her head up on instinct to see its origin. But she was too late to stop the pebble from hitting her horse, and her gelding's spooked reaction when he swung her head and smacked her in the shoulder. Her injured shoulder.

The impact causing her to hiss through her teeth in pain. The wound a reminder that she was not invulnerable and would need to be more careful if she was going to make it to Eredale in one piece.

Turning back to the Warden to issue him an overdue tongue lashing on the manners of a chivalrous knight, when the thumping of mighty wings stopped her. Instead, she looked to the skies and watched as Norvyk swooped up and over a copse of trees in her sightline and adjusted his course until he was almost over top of them. The sun dancing along his deep green scales.

Having spotted his Rider, Norvyk pulled up above them and descended towards the opposite side of the creek, pine needles and forest detritus flying everywhere with the dragon's landing. Once he was settled on the opposite shore, Petra noticed the white wooly, and bloodstained, coat of a mountain goat in the dragon's claws.

"Rider." Came Norvyk's stoic rumble from across the creek. Dressed and starving, Petra walked out from behind her horse, smiling warming at hert dragon before looking at Valdr, her hand casually gesturing towards the goat. "It would seem, dinner is served."

Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar

 

[Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar]

"The Knights of Anathaeum have been more than worthy of alliances for centuries, given their track record and keeping the Vale safe. Being from Eredale, you should know this better than most." He mused with some serious side-eye. From the moment he met Helena northeast of Fal-Addas, to now, he had traveled far and wide only to hear many of the tales of the Knights of Anathaeum. So to hear from one that had lived within a Giants stone-throw of Anathaeum that she had been wholly unawares of their standing.. was remarkable.

Thankfully, that punishment would come in the form of her courser swatting her injured arm, proof that the Eldyr Tree punished in humorous and mysterious ways. After all, such interactions built character, and Petra could do with a bit more of the building.

As he finished lathering his body, he would hear the beat of dragon wings, only to dip below the waters surface to wash away the suds. When he re-emerged, he could hear her voice call out to him.

It would seem, dinner is served.

It would, indeed. "We'll skin it and get it prepared for cooking." He would call back to her, his gait bringing him back from the center of the creek, that chest high water quickly diminishing in depth.

Petra Darthinian

 

[Petra Darthinian]

****

Petra was sitting across the fire from Valdr. The only sounds between them were the fire as it crackled and spit embers up into the rising smoke, the sizzling of ram meat that cloyed the air with a mouthwatering aroma, and the crunching of flesh and bone behind her as Norvyk tore into his remaining carcass under the shelter of trees. It was a companionable silence, a result of a day spent fighting and traveling. With the promise of a hot dinner lulling them into contentment.

Absently, the elf used a charred stick to push into the embers under their crudely made meat spit. The fat dripping onto the logs below and sizzling against the wood. She was going to start cutting into the leg shank and pass some over to Valdr, but there was something bothering her that had her hesitating. It was something that nagged at the edges of her like her dragon with a bone. Whittling her down into something sharp and brittle. She found herself glancing through the flames at the warden, gauging whether talking about it was even worth the effort.

A grumbling growl came from behind her. An impatient voice slithered into her head a moment after, "If you would please stop ruining my evening with your constant overthinking. Your turbulent emotions are spoiling my food. Address your issue head-on, as a Rider should. So I can go on with my life."

She raised an irritated eyebrow. Her tongue growing sharp at her dragon's tone. "I need to say something to you, Valdr. About what you said earlier." She glanced up from the coals, her grip tightening on the stick as she gazed at him with intensity. "Just because I am from Eredale, does not mean I deign to spend my time learning the intricate political details and going ons between every Order, noble house, or country that slings its power around this continent for their own agenda; whether for good or evil. Or whatever your definition of that may be. But they all fade with time. They are all destined to repeat themselves time and again. It is the snake that swallows its own tail. And I will be here to bear witness to their mortal blunders again and again, long after your bones have turned to dust in the earth." The vitriol dried from her tongue with the last of her words. The Warden's remarks, as playful as they may have been intended earlier, had smarted the intimate part of her regrets. Despite the fact that her family lived in Eredale. She had spent very little time there. Many of it spent lost in darkness. Parties. Distractions. Her own ambitions. Anything to forget.

She went back to digging into the coals with her stick, relief already lessening the tension in her shoulders. She had never been good at keeping her thoughts to herself. Especially when she felt she had been wronged. To be misunderstood was a deep pain for her, and she went out of her way to be genuine and forthright with any of her thoughts and misgivings.

Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar

 

[Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar]

Hours had passed the day into the night. It had become silent and Valdr's thoughts had drifted to both Route and Esme as he relaxed on the ground. They had taken turns tending to the meal and the silence hadn't been awkward.

From the smell, the goat seemed close to finished, at least it appeared golden enough that Petra had begun to tend it. Norvyk then rumbled something to Petra about what 'riders should do', despite it just being something anyone should do.

I need to say something to you, Valdr. About what you said earlier.

Valdr would roll his eyes before he sat up. He knew this was going to be good, if it had bothered her all this time. So he sat up, gave her some attention and did his best to not either laugh or groan at her words. Because the more she spoke, the more he realized she was little more than a child.

"Ah yes, because knowing anything about any of the politics in your direct vicinity would be anything short of a bad idea. Astenvale, the Bannorn, Pinkrose, those are all places very close to Eredale. So close that such politics directly impact your home. Its not like I said you should understand the inner workings of Vraexamore or Route. Or even as far northwest as Denlan or Treston. Oh wow, do they fade in time? Because last I checked with anyone in the region, the Bannorn has been around longer than any single Elf, same with House Pinkrose. So that thought process, shows how childish you still view the world, and its further proof that in your hundred and more years of life, you've never found a true cause to stand behind. The only thing you've said that's right, is that you will be here long after my bones turn to dust, but at your current rate, you will lack all the wisdom that comes with that age." His tone remained level the entire time and there wasn't a single hint of rage in his voice, nor his eyes.

He watched as she seemed to relax some, like a heavy burden had been lifted. "Now I'm glad that those words seemed to make you feel better about passing remarks, but you need to understand something Petra.. The Vale is small, and there are some very ambitious rulers within it. You can either remain blind to the politics and miss all the signs when some of those big heads decide they want to move, you can run away to avoid it all, or you can get plugged in and make sure that when they do move, they can't move far. Peace within the Vale shouldn't rest on the shoulders of the Knights and I know that there are many hatreds around your home, so maybe you should try to be apart of the change to help maintain that peace. Put being a dragon rider to better use than pushing forth your own dreams. You now have greater power, use it to shape things in a better way, and don't let that power corrupt." God's, he hated preaching. But it was clear to him now that she only lived for herself. That her troubles in Eredale were her own doing.

 

[Petra Darthinian]

When the last of his words faded with the rising smoke, she sat forward, curling her arms around her knees and rested her face against her forearms, talons cracking the wood of the stick she still held. She was unable to meet Valdr's eye as she stared deep into the flames, his words stabbing at her pride relentlessly. He had hit too close to home and as a result Petra was wrestling with her first reaction to protect herself in retaliatory anger. But she knew that infuriated resentment would do little to curb the hurt she felt from his words. So she chose to swallow the rage and sit with her emotions instead.

She finally noticed the lack of sound from behind her, so she turned her head to look over her shoulder at her dragon.

Norvyk was staring at her intently from his arched neck, wings tucked neatly against his back, his meal forgotten for the moment. Petra could hear his tail swishing in the pine needles the longer they stared at each other. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, and her own emotions were too turbulent to sift through to reach through their bond and gauge what he was feeling either. But a low crooning noise began from his throat and an echoing hum began from her chest without her initiating it.

The dragon's rumbling voice broke the silence a moment later, a soft note in it that she had never heard before.
"Peace, Little Lark. The words may be harsh. But they are true. And so there is wisdom to be found in the words of a warden who has lived a different life than you. To be a Rider is to shape the world as we see fit. Although I am sure the warden's definition of better is different than my own." He gave a small sneeze through his nose as he bared his teeth, she could only equate the expression as the dragon's version of articulating his dry humor.

Petra buried the reluctant smile into the crook of her arm when she turned back to look at Valdr. She stared at him for a long moment, expressionless yet thoughtful, before unfolding and leaning forward to take her dagger to the leg shank. Using her claws to hold the meat she was cutting. The hum died in her chest and she could hear Norvyk continue to tear into flesh behind her. Quietly, she passed over a cutting of the cooked meat, a peace offering, even if she wasn't willing to discuss what Valdr had said to her.

Instead, she asked in a measured tone, "Earlier, when you were speaking to my horse. It almost sounded elvish? Es-Eas... Easim?" Her brow furrowing when she tried to remember his exact pronuciation.

"Easime, seldo, tye as nur." Norvyk offerred between mouthfuls.

"Yes! That. What language was that?" Her own innate curiosity washing away most of her anger, at least for now. Later, when she had a moment to herself, she would mull over the Lord's words with a more pragmatic eye,


Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar

 

[Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar]

She remained quiet after he spoke, he watched as she folded and bent, the very image of a child being reprimanded by a parent. Given her earlier behavior, he was prepared for her to yell, to scream, to respond with rage.

He knew his words were cold, but they were the truth. A truth he had learned many years ago and a truth he tried to instill into his siblings. He was both brother and mentor, teacher and guide. And so, he knew these words would sting as they were a variant of words he spoke before. He just hoped she held the wisdom to grow from them.

Peace, Little Lark. The words may be harsh. But they are true. And so there is wisdom to be found in the words of a warden who has lived a different life than you. To be a Rider is to shape the world as we see fit. Although I am sure the warden's definition of better is different than my own.

Norvyk would speak up, and Valdr would glance to the dragon, offering him an appreciative nod. "But of course, what is the world of mortals, but one that can so rarely inhibit the dragons? Better differs between each people, but within the Vale, i would trust it would be an actual peace, cemented with acceptance between all tribes. Even peace amongst the dragons, as volatile and proud as your lot may be." For when great Dragons warred, so did their followers. Valdr was grateful that he would be long dead before Norvyk was old enough to stake such a claim to land.

As Valdr spoke, Petra would carve some of the meat from the leg, moving over to offer it to the Warden. He would accept it with a thankful nod. And when she spoke next, it was a subject change.

"Elvish. At least a dialect of it. It's spoken by a few Elves of Vel Ehn, the ones that came with him from the East. Beyond the Isles of Sheketh."

Petra Darthinian

 

[Petra Darthinian]

"I do not care for peace so much as I care for whatever will allow me to be left alone. If that should mean that I must rule my own territory to do so. So be it." A sharp indignant snort from his nostrils. "Although, for now I am content with chasing the ambitions of my Rider. For the faster she gains strength and knowledge. The faster we are able to harness the skies by right of might." His scales scraped together softly as he readjusted himself and rolled his goat's carcass to reach the other portion of his meal. Seemingly content with his proclamations.

Petra rolled her eyes where Valdr could see. A conspiratorial smirk sent his way after he grabbed the offered meat from her. She began to cut-off her own share of dinner. When he answered her question, she paused, a memory of a conversation she had had with her sister in passing coming to mind. Seraphine had mentioned her grandparents. And the tumultuous relationship their father had with his own father. How his side of the family had came from the East. But she wasn't sure how many generations back it was.

She mulled over the Warden's response as she ate. Happy for the companionable silence. Reaching forward to cut off another piece, she hesitantly asked, "Hmm... I wonder.. does the family name Farregryn mean anything to you then?"

She was curious as to how deep the Warden's knowledge of Houses went. Whether they be human, elf, dwarf, or otherwise.

Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar

 

[Rangvaldr Tal'deneshaar]

Pride was a sickness for every species, it would appear. And the words spoken by Norvyk were just proof of his youth. "Then you're a fool, dragon." His tone wasn't harsh. "You are mightier than many mortals in this territory, surely the one talking to you now, but it will be some time before you can compete for territory, let alone carve out your own. On this trip alone, we have crossed through the lands of four dragons, and we skirt the lines of a fifth. So peace is what you should be shooting for so you can survive to see yourself having your own territory." His gaze shifted to Petra, as Norvyks rider, it would be up to her to get him to maintain the peace. "Peace. Just south of here is the blighted wood around the Eldyr Tree, the proof of what war and calamity can bring. The peoples of the Vale will never heal until the land has." Aniria had been warring for centuries, so much so that most of their history had been lost to time. That seemed to be the truth of many lands.

There would fall a short silence between the trio, though Petra would manage to share a smirk with him as they ate. He considered his own words, weighed his own determination. Route was young, fledgling, and surrounded by enemies. Some of which had already been allies with the likes of Blightlands and the Grimmark. A war was needed for peace in the North, yet a war in the South, could very well fracture the Vale.

Hmm... I wonder.. does the family name Farregryn mean anything to you then?

At Petra's voice his gaze shifted to her and he shook his head. "Nothing. Doesn't sound like a Clan I've ever heard of, at least I know the Elves of the Vale operate mainly as Clans. To my knowledge, Garav is the only Elven House in the Vale. If its a western House from Fal-Addas, then I definitely haven't heard of it. Aniria spends its days warring with your kind, though I'm sure you know that if you spent some time there."

Petra Darthinian