Post by Natasia Rashai on Jan 17, 2020 5:41:28 GMT
From Sidona the wind had taken her to Maradon, the ancient capital of Saldaea. Natasia Rashai had no destination in mind when she'd left in the night, though it was less a rational decision and more obsession. The walls of her home suffocated her, her people kept her at arm's length, and her family didn't seem to know if it wanted her to never leave or not exist at all. She'd chafed for years and had finally just...left. She'd saddled Kaarash, said farewell to the elderly Nikiol, taken what belongings she'd could and just departed. Her father would no doubt have been furious, but Kesan Rashai would assume it was merely another one of his wayward daughter's wanderings with her returning in a day, or three, or twelve. Natasia's plans, such as they were, were a great deal more elaborate.
She'd spent a few days in Maradon, stocking up on supplies and generally keeping a low profile. She'd not put in an appearance at court (another fact which, if he ever found out, would surely frustrate her father), instead opting to spend her nights at the Broken Lance Inn. That had turned out...surprisingly raucous, and Natasia had ended up spending most of her evenings in her room. Once her supplies were in order she'd set off east. A whim had taken her on the road past Denhuir into the Black Hills, though the further she traveled the less of a whim it seemed. She'd studied her map as she'd traveled, and knew where this road led: past the shadow of Dragonmount to the city of Tar Valon.
That was many, many leagues away yet, but once Natasia knew herself well enough to know it was no coincidence. There was only one reason to travel to Tar Valon, one person there she might possibly want to see.
It had been three days since Denhuir, and though the road was occasionally traveled Natasia had seen no sign of fellow travelers for the past two. She shared the road only with Kaarash, riding or walking beside the darkly colored stallion as the mood took her in a silence that was by turns pleasant and unnerving.
She was walking, now, one hand up against Kaarash and the other on her quarterstaff. The polished wood served equally well as a walking stick, with a pair of small leather scabbards and accompanying knives tied to the shaft. The noonday sun beat down on them, and Natasia had left the long leather coat she wore open, the tails trailing after her almost like a cloak. The further from the Borderlands she moved, she mused, the warmer it became. Spring, even here in the Black Hills, was a very different beast than back home. The road ahead was empty, and behind; the terrain nearby it was mostly flat, though that quickly gave way to rolling hills to the south. Scrub dominated the landscape, fading into trees that blanketed the hills.
More disconcerting to the young rider, however, was Kaarash's mood. The horse had been on edge for some time, his ears flattened back against his head and muscles tight with barely restrained energy. She'd trained him since he was a colt, and a mood like this would be obvious even to untrained observers.
Something was out there, in the rolling Black Hills that sat not far off the road. Natasia tightened her grip on the staff and kept herself alert. She wasn't certain she wished to uncover it, whatever it was.
She'd spent a few days in Maradon, stocking up on supplies and generally keeping a low profile. She'd not put in an appearance at court (another fact which, if he ever found out, would surely frustrate her father), instead opting to spend her nights at the Broken Lance Inn. That had turned out...surprisingly raucous, and Natasia had ended up spending most of her evenings in her room. Once her supplies were in order she'd set off east. A whim had taken her on the road past Denhuir into the Black Hills, though the further she traveled the less of a whim it seemed. She'd studied her map as she'd traveled, and knew where this road led: past the shadow of Dragonmount to the city of Tar Valon.
That was many, many leagues away yet, but once Natasia knew herself well enough to know it was no coincidence. There was only one reason to travel to Tar Valon, one person there she might possibly want to see.
It had been three days since Denhuir, and though the road was occasionally traveled Natasia had seen no sign of fellow travelers for the past two. She shared the road only with Kaarash, riding or walking beside the darkly colored stallion as the mood took her in a silence that was by turns pleasant and unnerving.
She was walking, now, one hand up against Kaarash and the other on her quarterstaff. The polished wood served equally well as a walking stick, with a pair of small leather scabbards and accompanying knives tied to the shaft. The noonday sun beat down on them, and Natasia had left the long leather coat she wore open, the tails trailing after her almost like a cloak. The further from the Borderlands she moved, she mused, the warmer it became. Spring, even here in the Black Hills, was a very different beast than back home. The road ahead was empty, and behind; the terrain nearby it was mostly flat, though that quickly gave way to rolling hills to the south. Scrub dominated the landscape, fading into trees that blanketed the hills.
More disconcerting to the young rider, however, was Kaarash's mood. The horse had been on edge for some time, his ears flattened back against his head and muscles tight with barely restrained energy. She'd trained him since he was a colt, and a mood like this would be obvious even to untrained observers.
Something was out there, in the rolling Black Hills that sat not far off the road. Natasia tightened her grip on the staff and kept herself alert. She wasn't certain she wished to uncover it, whatever it was.
