Long past their woodland days [Open]

[elessar]

WHO: Aragorn & YOU
WHAT: Fighting bandits, harvesting, combat & horse riding lessons, the festival
WHERE: The farmlands of the Stars Territory, Kyst & Other
WHEN: 13th through the 23nd
WARNINGS: Fantasy violence, perhaps suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol



❦Brigands & Bandits - Stars Territory

[ There are reports of bandits roaming the countryside as of late, many of which hail from the Moon territory. News of their crimes reached Aragorn's ears once he returned from his mission to Alvheim. Aragorn volunteered to protect the borders of the countryside without much fuss. He's a ranger at heart, a man of the wilds. If there's anyone who could track and find these bandits, it would be him.

So when he spots a group of bandits roaming through the woods, Aragorn dashes out of the bushes with his sword drawn ready to ambush the raiders. He quickly strikes at them but misses thanks to the uneven footing here. The woods are notoriously treacherous. There's all manner of twigs and branches ready to snare, the same for all the prickly shrubbery needling at his clothes.

The ground is slippery thanks to the rainfall overnight making it rather muddy. Orange and gold leaves pepper the muddy ground, but now there are hints of red among them. Splotches of blood dots the forest ground as the ranger keeps up with his attacks. Bandits are typically quick to flee at the first sign of danger, but these are no ordinary bandits.

These are desperate men who know no fear.]

There's nowhere to run!

[He shouts after skewering one of the bandits through with his sword. The man left him little choice when he charged forward with daggers at hand. The others fled the moment their friend is slain. They race down the slippery hill and into the cluster of trees below. After flicking off the blood from his sword, Aragorn gives chase.]

❦The Thrill of the Hunt - Moon & Stars

[The moment his feet touched the leaf-covered ground, Aragorn felt his entire body become anew. While he's deaf to the soothing call of the woods, Aragorn feels more at home here within the wilds than at some crowded little town. The ranger moves swiftly in-between the trees with an arrow at the bowstring and the bow pointed downwards. Within minutes, Aragorn spots a fluffy brown rabbit beside a small shrub. The creature is fully grown but relatively small for its age. Aragorn brings up his bow and fires. His arrow makes its mark with a slight thump. Wordlessly, Aragorn creeps over to the corpse and quickly plucks the arrow out of the rabbit's throat.

Hunting is one of Aragorn's favorite pass times. He's been hunting ever since he was just a child alongside Elladan and Elrohir, Lord Elrond's sons. While he's no elf, Aragorn certainly inherited their skill with a bow. He binds the rabbit's hind legs together with a rope but pauses when he hears something noisily stomping through the bushes.

It's a boar! A black boar with bushy thick fur and long ivory tusks. The creature doesn't see him. It storms past the bushes with a noisy grunt before eventually stopping near a large overturned log. Aragorn quickly gathers the rabbit within his satchel before following after the hog.

Killing a boar for tonight's feast will be difficult but worth all the trouble.]

❦Harvesting - Stars Territory

The hay is stacked unevenly.

[Words of criticism but they're not said out of cruelty.

Aragorn stares at the other volunteer with an unreadable gaze and the makings of a scowl upon his face. He volunteered his services in aiding the farmers here with their chores, but his companion seems hellbent in making the task more arduous than necessary. After spending most of the day tending to the animals, the last bit that needs to be done lies with the harvest itself. Most of the crops have been gathered already, but trying to find a proper way to store them is the problem. It's been years since Aragorn participated in such mundane work, but thankfully he doesn't tire easily.

The ranger arches his brow as he regards the other with a look of surprise.]

I'm merely stating the truth.

[He proclaims in his defense as the edges of his lips tilt upward in amusement.]

There's no need to take offense.

[Judging the laughter trying his best to conceal, Aragorn find some enjoyment in their misery.]

❦Rœchbin - Kyst (The Stables)

[Much to Aragorn's chagrin, he gets asked many questions from fellow outlanders about how to ride a horse. This quite an oddity, especially since Aragorn hails from a world where horses are the only form of transportation available. He knew how to ride a horse since childhood, so the idea that there are grown men and women who don't baffle him. In hopes of rectifying this problem, Aragorn decided to conduct a lesson here within the spacious stables in Kyst.

Once he's finished brushing Huinéva's long black mane, he sets forth to the center of the stables with his dear black horse by the reins. She's a pretty thing, an old mare with soulful brown eyes that nearly look as black as the rest of her. He brought Huinéva for two gold coins when the horse master still called her by her stable name. She is a worthy investment despite her years, both even footed and even-tempered. The horse trots amiably behind Aragorn as he brings her towards the others.]

There's nothing to be afraid of. [He says as he gently pats the horse's snout.] You can pet Huinéva without fear of being bitten.

Most horses are rather docile.

[This bound to be a timely lesson, but a worthwhile one. Anyone seeking how to ride a horse will find no better teacher.]

❦Apple-Picking - Moon & Stars

[There's nothing quite like the laughter of children. Aragorn finds himself instantly savoring the sound as he assists them in apple-picking. He didn't trust the little ones to handle the task themselves, especially since it includes climbing onto a rather tall ladder. So, he volunteered to help them and gather as many apples as possible for the feast later.

Of course, the children are too busy gobbling up the fruits of his labor rather than assisting him. It's somewhat comical, honestly. Aragorn cannot help but look a tad exasperated, but the smile he wears undermines the frustration he feels.]

The apples aren't meant to be a snack.

[He chastises with a grin.]

We'll have none for later.

❦Wildcard

(if none of the prompts work for you, feel free to drop me a line at ardamire, or come up with your own.)

Comments

Harvesting

[freeatlast]

[Amusement is all well and good, but it's been one heaven of a day helping to prepare the small settlement for the oncoming cold and Crowley is, even at the best of times, a bit cross. Right now? He'd actually made an effort to stack the bales by hand this time, instead of just miracling it all into place, and he's not entirely thrilled that his hard work is being criticized.

With a frown, a furrow of his brows, and a a quick snap of his fingers the hay rearranges itself into what's hopefully a neater pile. He's not certain what even qualifies 'neat' when it comes to this, he's just winging it. This is so far out of his area of expertise that it's not even on the map.]

Better?

[His tone might be a bit annoyed, but for the most part he's harmless.]

[elessar]

[The snap of his fingers and the sorcery that follows causes Aragorn pause. He blinks his eyes a few times in subtle confusion before turning towards the bespectacled man with a frown. Ever since arriving in Fellden, Aragorn has met all sorts of wizards, creatures, and monsters alike. However, this is the first time he met anyone quite like this fellow here.]

...Impressive. [He mutters after taking a closer look at the towering stacks of hay.] Still crooked but I suppose this will have to do.

[The stoicism of the elves has rubbed off on him over the years. He's practically looking down his nose at this magical feat out of sardonic humor. It's all fun and dandy until someone pisses off a demon.]

Are you any good at harvesting corn?

[freeatlast]

[Crowley’s shoulders might square just the tiniest bit at the unintended praise, but any ego-stroking that could be gleaned from the man’s words is summarily dashed as he continues on. Instead, the smug, self-satisfaction that had been building immediately takes a turn back to annoyance and for a brief moment Crowley weighs the consequences of just miracling the blessed hay into an unorganized pile. Deciding that the temporary victory isn’t worth the effort of cleaning it up, he instead settles for a sardonic roll of his eyes that’s thankfully hidden behind his glasses.]

If it’s so crooked, I’m sure you can do better, hm?

[He’d thought it’d been perfect, it was supposed to be perfect. Perhaps it would behoove him to learn a little bit of humility. But he’s being questioned, and really there’s no good answer that he can think of. Unfortunately, that means that he’s just blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.]

Never did it before. Can’t be too hard, they’re all doing it just fine out there.

[Words he will likely have to eat in the near future.]

Apple-Picking

[notimefordreams]

[Par usual Sarah has been at the same task she seems to end up in no matter which farm she goes to - watching kids. When she's not actively harvesting herself she seems to end up with some kid or another or at the very least keeps an eye on them when she comes across them.

Today is no different and she's ended up out here in this small bit of farming space where the fruit trees stand both to help harvest and to help the kids out.

She huffs out a light breath at the comment.]

I don't know, there's an awful lot of apples.

[elessar]

These apples are meant for the feast later.

[The ranger protests while fighting back the urge to smile. While he's grateful for Sarah's aid in watching the little ones, she's almost as impish as they are. Aragorn lets out an exasperated sigh once the littlest one of their merry troupe, a child about five or six with curly blond hair and cute little freckles, bites into a red juicy apple he just tossed down into the basket. He gives the child a mighty scowl, but he can't stay angry for long.]

Worse than hobbits.

[It's said with an almost wistful sigh. He misses Frodo and the others.]

[notimefordreams]

All of these apples but that one it looks like. Are hobbits notorious apple thieves too?

[Yes, there's amusement in her tone. He's right on the nose about her being as bad as the kids in some respects, the part of her that Moppet gave back just a little too much of a child at times maybe. Or it's likely she's just glad to hear something besides talks of war and how much or little the Emperor or Priestess ought to be trusted.

She turns to the rest of the kids gathered. They're a motley crew of ones around the blond haired boys age, at most seven and at the least around five.]

Maybe if you all help pick some of the ones on the ground, we can get to that feast a whole lot faster.

[She pauses there and adds in a lightly amused tone of voice:]

Or at least dinner.

bandits!

[sweariff]

[Another day, another bandit raid. Bigby stands by his prior evaluation that these guys are a pain in the ass. No matter how badly they're beaten, they don't stop — they just slink back to whatever hole they call a hideout, recoup their losses, and come back the next day. He's gotta give them credit for their tenacity, but honestly, taking more than two seconds to think about it, is that what it really is? Is it stubbornness or survival? Is it stupidity or just simple, plain refusal to lay down and die?

He has his concerns about the sun-branded ones, but the ones he's currently tailing through the woods don't seem like that at all — just more hungry defectors with a bone to pick with the Court, or the Temple, or both, it's a little hard to tell with some of them. Bigby knows what it's like to starve, to go so long without food you'd be willing to gnaw your own leg off just to make the pangs stop. That kind of survival instinct makes you fierce, so he's not surprised to see them fight back when the man — the ranger? — beats him to the punch and leaps out of the treeline with a fucking sword and starts going to town on them. Well, he can't just stand and watch, now can he?

Bigby doesn't have a weapon more or less effective than his fists, and he leaps into the fray with them soon enough. The sound of breaking, cracking bones and skulls slamming head-first into trees is a pretty good compliment to clashing steel, all things considered. Getting flung so hard into a tree that you nearly pinball off the branches is no worse than going back home empty-handed; either way, they're going to be limping back with an empty belly. And getting impaled with the aforementioned fucking sword is, all in all, on the same level as starving to death.

Eventually, they start running as they were inevitably bound to, and Bigby takes that as his cue to back down. That's pretty much a surrender in as few words as possible, and he'll take it.

Not sword-guy, though. He's after the group like a bolt of lightning with his bloodstained sword, and Bigby doesn't even have a chance to breathe before he's forced to run after him, yelling.]

Hey—!

[Believe it or not, he's yelling at Aragorn, not cheering him on.]

[elessar]

[Fighting is second nature for Aragorn, much like killing. It's an unfortunate truth that he doesn't like to admit. After fighting his way through hundreds and hundreds of orcs during what would've been Rohan's final stand, Aragorn feels numb to it. As much as he yearns for the day he could lay down his sword, he seems eternally entwined with battle. That's why he gives chase so quickly after slaying one of the bandits. Fighting is second nature for Aragorn, and that is frightening.

He pauses suddenly when he hears someone trampling after him. The ranger quickly turns around to see an unfamiliar man chasing after him. In just this short amount of time, Aragorn managed to chase the bandits deep within the woods. He's surprisingly swift upon his feet for a mortal, but the man following after him seems even swifter.

Aragorn comes to a slow halt on top of a large gray stone. While he still has his sword drawn, he doesn't attack. Why? It's because the other is unarmed.]

Why are you following me?

[sweariff]

[The man runs as fast as he fights, and although Bigby is able to keep up with him, he doesn't make it easy. Bigby can smell the adrenaline coming off him in waves, potent and salty-sweet with sweat and dirt and something that rolls and spikes, and doesn't abate the further they run into the woods. Bloodlust has its own scent too, just like fear. Even without the benefit of his nose, he could recognize it a mile away. The two of them are old friends by this point.

The chase takes Bigby deeper into the woods, and by the time he catches up with the ranger, his knees want to buckle and his lungs are complaining for every ounce of air he can suck in. Goddamnit. He's not meant to run in the woods on two legs like this. It just makes shit needlessly difficult. He stops to catch his breath, knowing that he's got the guy's attention now, figuring if he was going to keep up the pursuit he wouldn't have stopped.]

Because—

[Deep, deep breath. Exhaling, Bigby draws himself back up, hands dropping from his knees as he straightens.]

... Because they surrendered. They're not coming back, not after that. [Bigby's voice, while free from judgment, nonetheless has a heavy impression of finality to it.] It's over.

Bandits

[song_of_ice]

[Adrenaline kept him from identifying Aragorn at first. All he saw were men racing, some with daggers and another with a bow. Neither were much protection against a sword. Ghost charged ahead of him, knocking one of the bandits down as he bit into his arm, forcing him to drop his bow. Between Jon and Ghost, they wouldn't be able to catch them all, but maybe slow them down at least.

Jon spun on his heel, able to move carefully as he struck on of the bandits in the belly, slicing into him. It was like being back on the fields outside Winterfell. The blood, mud and shit were second nature for him now. He knew how to move and fight in almost any terrain at this point.

Blood coated Longclaw, making the red of the Valyrian steel stand out more plainly. Aragorn appeared in his sight light. He jerked his head to the left, gesturing where the others were running.]

There's two left!

[elessar]

[Despite all of his protests about harming these bandits, Aragorn accidentally drew first blood. The man left him little choice when he lunged at the ranger with a sword at hand. Aragorn quickly incepted him and slew him with just one stroke. This sent the rest of these bandits fleeing in terror towards the woods. Aragorn plotted on bringing at least one of them alive, but the bloodlust is almost too great. It would probably be for the best to put them down, a merciful death, rather than to let them escape.

He was hot on the trail of one of the bandits when something large and white dashes forth from the bushes. Aragorn skids to a halt once the enormous dire wolf starts mauling the archer's arms, his eyes wide with surprise.]

Ilmarë?

[Aragorn mutters before Jon's call snaps him in action. He quickly searches for the youth and finds him with the blade of his greatsword covered in blood. The telltale stench of death is upon them both, a reminder of his failure to bring these brigands in alive.]

Don't fall behind!

[He shouts before taking off deeper into the woods. The path here is muddy and slippery, but neither serves as much hindrance for a ranger used to the wilds. Aragorn follows the two bandits with the absurd speed of a wild cat. Maybe if he could find their lair, Jon and he could round them all up and bring them into custody. That sounds like a plausible idea but once the bandits abruptly stop running and turn to face him, Aragorn knew it wouldn't be possible.

They attack him like rabid beasts, each brigand trying their best to skewer him with their swords. Aragorn parried their incoming strikes with great ease despite being forced into a more defensive stance against the brigands. He eventually grabs a hold of the elven dagger at his hip and starts fighting them with both blades drawn. Not many know that Aragorn is ambidextrous, it's a well-hidden secret only his companions know. With a dagger at his left and his sword at the right, Aragorn fights them in hopes of giving Jon and Ghost enough time to catch up.]

riding lessons

[enkelis]

( She's been told that riding out to the farms is the fastest way to get there, that walking is time consuming and would leave her better off staying at the Court to help in the kitchens instead. But Clary is determined; she wants to help, and needs to learn a better way to actually get herself around the land without relying only on her feet, the mirrors, and her portals once she can create them.

But good god this is terrifying.

And hey! You know! She has done scarier things!! Like fight demons, and go up against scary warlocks, and survived her fair share of altercations with vampires. Her hard line might be horses, though.

The stable attendant working with her has been very patient thus far, but even he's beginning to look harried by Clary's hesitation. It's why he directs her to where someone else is going to begin teaching an even lower-level lesson on getting familiar with horses, rather than just trying to get Clary onto one.

So when a familiar face comes out with a mare that looks like it might be able to out-patience Clary's fear, she actually finds herself a little more relaxed. )

Well, seeing a familiar face sure doesn't hurt.

[elessar]

Well, if it isn't the "Part-Time Exit Seeker".

[Aragorn cannot help but grin as he greets Clary. He can tell the poor woman is quite nervous but her fears are completely unfounded. Huinéva is a good horse. She's patient, kind and most of all, obedient. The black mare peeks over at Clary from the corner of her eyes. It neighs quietly at the woman, clearly trying to coax her over. Maybe Huinéva senses her unease, or maybe the horse simply thinks Clary has an apple to spare. Either way, Aragorn is eager to get this lesson started.]

There's nothing to fear, Clary. [His grin widens some as he walks Huinéva closer to her.] Huinéva won't nibble on you.

[Though, the black mare has a habit of trying to nibble on Aragorn's hair to get his attention.]

Pet her. She's quite curious about you.

Stables!!

[webdesigned]

( he's not exactly looking to learn how to ride. Peter is trying to be helpful, and it seems the most help he can be right about now is carrying things places. he was told to drag a barrel of apples into the stable, he presumes for the horses since there's some holes and soft spots in them, but he has no earthly clue. he doesn't even know if horses like apples or if that's just something that happens in cartoons. he's just doing what he was told, and he was planning on disappearing as soon as it was accomplished...

except one of the horses is out of their stalls and he was not expecting it and he freezes up like it's a wild bear loose in the stable instead of a very complacent, mild mannered horse. in Peter's defense, he's a city boy; the most he's seen of horses are the truly depressing ones trotting around central park at Christmas. he's never really been this close to one, especially one free to ... did horses run up at you for being nervous and awkward in their presence? because if they did, he's in trouble. even being quite tall, Peter does not feel tall enough when faced with a horse. )

O-oh. Okay, ( he agrees with the stranger, and forces himself to put his hands down from where they're hiked midair like the horse was in the middle of arresting him instead of just standing there mildly staring at him. ) Pet it? Are you sure? How do I know it wants to be pet?

[elessar]

[The youth's nervousness is almost palatable. It's quite obvious that this boy never rode a horse before, but why does he look so afraid? It makes Aragorn wonder if these outlanders even have horses within their world. Judging from his brief conversation with Syriya, it seems that some places don't. Still, it's rather bizarre in Aragorn's opinion.]

Relax. [He says with subtle urgency in his tone.] Huinéva not going to harm you.

[The black mare peers over at the boy when Aragorn brings her closer. She sniffs at him a little before neighing loudly at him as a mock welcome. Of course, Huinéva has no idea that her greeting might scare the poor boy. She's just excited to be meeting another person. A little too excited.]

hunt.

[unabatedly]

[ Aragorn isn't the only one hunting today.

Neria's had much the same idea, going after some smaller animals to bring for the feast, mostly pheasants and rabbits, though she's had her sights on a deer or two. In her wolven form, she's been following one steadily for the past several minutes when she hears a shift in the wood, something heavy and large trotting past in the undergrowth. Her eyes turn towards the sound and she sees the boar lumbering along, oblivious to her presence in the shadows of the forest. She begins to follow it at a slow pace, careful, low to the ground.

But downwind, she can also smell someone familiar. Someone from the Court. She flattens herself on her belly on the grassy floor of the forest, inching along until she can get a better look at who has joined her, and eventually, she catches sight of Aragorn, almost completely hidden in the undergrowth.

She waits where she is, watching the boar, and makes no sudden movements. This is his quarry, not hers. ]

[elessar]

[As the boar starts to nibble on the grass, Aragorn makes his move. He settles within the shrubs opposite of the creature. He keeps to the shadows as it grazes, his eyes keen for any sudden movement. Cautiously and slowly, Aragorn brings up his bow. The last thing he wants to do is spook the poor creature. It would be a waste to squander such bounty, especially since a decent sized boar like this would feed many. His breathing is hushed, quiet and even. The arrow is aimed at the boar's neck, promising a fatal kill.

He leans on his haunches and waits for just the right time before suddenly, he lets go. The bow shoots forth from the bush faster than the boar can blink. An agonized squeal shatters the peace of this tranquil woods. The boar is struck and blood sprays. It takes a few steps backward before suddenly collapsing to the ground. Once it's immobile, Aragorn quickly makes his way towards it. It's a clean kill. The arrow pierced the boar's throat with accurate precision.

Just when he kneels to reclaim his arrow, Aragorn catches a glimpse of something within the bushes. He pauses as he stares at the underbrush, his eyes wide with alarm. Despite being rather perspective of his surroundings, Aragorn didn't notice another pair of eyes until now.]

Bandits!

[sassywelshcatgirl]

[Trails of blood aren't subtle things, and that alone is enough to bring Nia running down their tracks in a hurry. Who knows who might be hurt at the end of it, after all, and -- well, for all that she's all sharp-tongued snark and seeming irritation with the world, she's also the sort of person who runs to see if someone's hurt, even if they seem to be headed away from help. Don't tell anyone, okay?]

['Course she finds out a little more when she hears that shout, and it also offers her a better clue than spots of blood to as to where to go. She picks up the pace, sweeping through all those sticky bushes and brambles without much of a care -- till she hits the slope, and finds herself sliding down it before she can so much as slow down.]

[Whoops. Well -- she's slid down the Urayan waterslide before, so she knows what to do. Lean back, duck low, and ride. And hey!]

Hey Strider, you okay down there?!

[Also don't stand in front of her, man, please.]

[elessar]

I'm well!

[Not exactly since Aragorn almost fell into a ditch, but nothing keeps him down for long. The path here is slippery, so Nia better take care. He might not be able to slow down since he's in quick pursuit of the bandits. While he earnestly wants to defend the farmlands, Aragorn is more interested in catching these men alive for the sake of interrogating them.

These Outworlders have to know something about the Emperor and this war. Why else would they defect and take up a life of crime? Surely one of these men know something---]

...Nia, watch out!

[The very moment he calls to her, an arrow whizzes past his head and towards the girl. It seems one of the men is armed with a crossbow. This isn't the first time Aragorn seen one, but they're a rarity in Middle-Earth.]

part wildcard, part bandits??

[exclave]

[ There's a stretch of farmland just a couple miles southwest of the woods currently playing host to several of them—Star-claimed conscripts who'd volunteered to assist those communities at higher risk of bandit incursions. Arcade has no special love of roughing it, isn't talented at it by any particular metric; but he goes where he's needed, and the people here are farmers and artisans, not battle-hardened warriors. Regular folks, just trying to eke out a living.

And the bandits, well. He understands too little about the intricacies of their society to be 100% unsympathetic to their cause, and hunger is hunger no matter where you come from.

In the interest of keeping watch and not wanting to impose on the owners of the land they're squatting on, he and a few of the others have just about finished setting up camp on the far end of one of the bean fields there when he spies their de facto commander approaching from the distance, semi-backlit by the setting of the sun.

Without any preamble he rises to meet Aragorn, visibly scanning his form for signs of injury, blood that isn't somebody else's. ]

I presume by the look of you that you've taken care of our raider problem, at least for the time being.

[ And the smell of you, he thinks, but he doesn't say anything because it's kind of to be expected and also, really, he's smelled a lot worse. ]

You're the last one back. Are you hurt?

this works!

[elessar]

That I have. [He answers with a slight frown.] Though, I would've preferred their surrender.

[Aragorn expected that the men would rather die than be taken back alive, but it's disturbing nonetheless. They're fellow Outworlders just like them. Men who once fought valiantly for both factions in their heydays but found nothing but disgrace instead of glory. It's sobering truth, one that honestly bothers Aragorn greatly. He doesn't know what to think about this war, but Aragorn knows he cannot linger here for long.

All of Arda is still in jeopardy along with everything he cherishes. If the hour of his return is late, Gondor will fall and so will the rest of Middle-Earth. This is his greatest fear and ultimately the reason why he agreed to the wolf's terms.]

Just a few scratches.

[Aragorn waves his hand dismissively as he glances down at the splotches of blood upon his tattered sleeves. His old rust-colored tunic has seen better days. The bandits managed to hick him a few times but he's not seriously wounded. Just enough to remind himself to take better care next time.]

bandits! (cw: violence, sparta style)

[epidioko]

[ Aragorn is not the only one hunting for bandits. Kassandra closes in on them from the Moon region's side as Aragorn drives them off the Stars territory. She has an advantage nobody else does; eyes up in the sky in the form of Ikaros, her eagle, and the preternatural ability to see through Ikaros's eyes when needed-- though she's still in the process of regaining this ability. Regardless, she's able to track the bandits whom seem to be trying to take refuge in the outskirts of Gods Wood, to cut through the forest and possibly trek back to the side of the Moon Temple.

They can try.

Kassandra's no ranger and even less an Elf, but stealth is something she's trained in. Sometimes the skill to slip past your enemies without being seen or heard bears more fruit than a reckless assault-- even Kassandra knows that, as much as she appreciates a good fight. Nimbly for such a tall woman, she climbs the towering trees, the reds and browns of her armor melding with the fall colors of the leafy canopy. Then, she waits.

The fleeing (from what, Kassandra wonders) bandits do not make much attempt to be silent. The first one rushes beneath her tree, which proves to be his undoing. Leaping down with the Spear of Leonidas in her hand, Kassandra lands on top of the bandit and drives the sharp spearhead through his neck, killing him instantly. She kneels on top of the dead man in the thick underbrush, idly wiping the blood from the blade on his tunic and stowing it even as she already stalks the second bandit approaching. Moving in a crouch in the bushes, she approaches unseen even as the man runs wildly toward her; unaware that he's running right to his death.

The bandit has time to cry out in surprise and fright when Kassandra springs up from the brush, clasping the smaller man in a deadly embrace; arms packed with muscle and covered with bronze vambraces wrap around the bandit's head and neck and twist sharply, the quickness of the motion a mercy in itself-- with a crack, the bandit's neck snaps and he goes slack in her grasp. Kassandra lets the body drop to the ground.

One left, it would seem, but the last bandit seems better equipped with a proper longsword. Drawing both the Spear and her curved dagger, one blade for each hand, Kassandra crouches back in the brush-- unaware this is no bandit she's stalking. But impatience soon gets the better of her, and maybe she's spoiling for a bit of a fight, too; springing from the undergrowth, Kassandra charges at Aragorn with a jump, swinging her blades in a wide overhead arc down at him. ]

Rœchbin

[bestdressed]

Most.

[ Dorian smiles as he says it, stepping forward to lay a hand on the horse's neck. The touch seems familiar to him, and it's apparent that he isn't afraid of her.

As a fellow Court of Stars Otherworlder, he might be a vaguely familiar face, just as Aragorn is to him. But Dorian has the advantage here, courtesy of Finel; he knows exactly who he's talking to. ]

I've spent quite a lot of time riding. [ He admits, looking at Aragorn rather than Huinéva, though his hand strokes idly from neck to flank. ] Where I come from, it was the only way to get anywhere with haste. But I can't say I'm skilled beyond what was necessary for traveling. It's something I could stand to be better at.

[elessar]

[A hint of intrigue settles within Aragorn's gaze once the man greets him. He's seen this man around the castle a few times but they never spoke. At first, Aragorn confused him to be a Fellden native until seeing him in the audience. There seems to be quite a few Outlanders who blend in well with the natives here. A strange commonality that many of them share, including himself.]

I see. [He raises his brow slightly as he holds the man's gaze.] Huinéva is a good horse. She's obedient and patient.

[More obedient than most people but that's beside the point.]

If you can spare the time, I can help you become better acquainted. Riding isn't too difficult as long as you understand the horse and its moods.

rœchbin

[stormborned]

[ At the stables in Kyst, Daenerys finds her request for a silver mare generously granted. It isn't so much that she's a gift, like her silver given to her by Khal Drogo on their wedding day, but it just so happens that there is a mare matching the exact description she gives the stable hands.

Dany approaches her with soft coos and clicks of her tongue, the way the Dothraki had taught her to do to soothe a mount before a ride, and lets the mare grow used to her presence before stroking her nose and then her neck softly. It's then that she turns and sees him conducting his lesson in the center of the stable, patiently instructing a group of onlookers in regard to horsemanship.

Aragorn is one of the Emperor's chosen ones, a hero of the Court of Stars, she knows now — but that doesn't make him any less appealing or lessen her desire to see him, and Dany smirks to herself and remains silent until his short lesson has ended and his students have dispersed. When he's alone, she leads her mare by the reins toward him until she's in the line of his sight, smiling at him amiably. ]

Most are rather docile, it's true — but it doesn't hurt to let them get to know you on their own terms, first. [ She's less queenly today, in her Dothraki leathers and riding ensemble, her hair neatly braided away from her face. ] They do have their own personalities, after all. How fares Huinéva's, this day?