RP:Guyon meets Strend
Guyon's Lodgings
Situated between the colorful plant life of the Oasis to the north and the decadence of the Palace to the south, the building in front of you is tawdry in comparison. Nondescript sand-colored bricks make up the foundations and walls of the building; a simple, but large wooden door gives you access into the building itself. As you step in you see it is simply one large, spacious room. The far left corner holds a rather large bed covered in dark brown fabric- soft to the touch if you should reach for it. Small windows dot the walls of the room to allow some light and the occasional breeze in. The walls themselves are bare save for a few small weapons and pieces of battered armor; it appears the centaur has no interest in decoration, or perhaps, no knack for it. However, dominating the eastern wall is a massive sand-colored crossbow as well as a large quiver of arrows. Reaching nearly four feet in height, the weapon is obviously only usable to its owner or possibly another large race; though you doubt it would be wise to attempt stealing it, as the owner surely would hunt you down for its return. Off center to the room is a decent sized table with wooden chairs gracing its edges- some small plates and various mismatched cutlery items are also seen on the table. On the floor lie rugs of various furs- most likely bears or wolves that were killed in the more forested areas to the north of the desert- as well as some small sacks that presumably hold food items or even small trinkets. It seems the room serves only as a retreat from the harsh desert elements rather than a comfortable and frequently used house.
Strend approaches the large house, the elf feeling small in comparison, was looking for water, food, and escape from the conditiions of the outside. He quickly begins to beat on the door,"Hey! You inside there! Let me in!" he repeats this about four times, bashing upon the door through it all, the elf himself seemingly impatient. He quickly gets tired of waiting and decides to kick the large wooden door in. As he raises his leg up to kick, the elf falls over, flat on his arse. Apparently, his wounded leg still wasn't ready to carry his entire weight. The ranger decided to just give up, and sit there hoping someone may come outside to help the man out.
Guyon was preparing to leave on a small scouting mission when the usual silence was shattered by the harsh pounding. Mumbling to himself, the centaur sets down his rucksack and walks over to the door, his hooves clicking over the bricks. Reaching out his right hand, Guyon grasps the makeshift door handle- really just a piece of rope strung through a hole in the door- and yanks it back. Normally the centaur was genial, to say the least, but he didn't like his peace interrupted so.. abruptly. "Who's th're?" is all he manages to say before he catches sight of the elf flat on his doorstep. Taking a quick step outside, Guyon extends his left hand down to the elf, planning on pulling him to his feet. "I'm sorry, 're yeh ok? Come in."
Strend startled at the horse man, the elf is taken back for a second, staring at the creature. When he finally regains his senses he reaches up, rather unsure and grasps the mans hand, pulling on it to regain his footing,"Yep, thanks!" The elf continues to stare at the man curiously,"I haven't seen one like you before. What are you?" His head constantly shifting back and forth from shoulder to shoulder, as if it might give him some different perspective upon the creature.
Guyon laughs heartily, he was finally getting used to the question. "I," he says with a smile, "am a cent'ur, 'nd yeh, meh friend, are in a desert." Taking a step to the side, the centaur holds open the door to his home, signaling with a nod, for the elf to enter. Walking in behind him and shutting the door, Guyon turns to take stock of his unexpected visitor. Crossing his arms over his chest, the Desert Ranger continues, “’Ow, may I ask, did yeh find yerself all teh way ou’ ‘ere? No one comes ‘ere by choice; unless o’ course, they live down ‘ere.” Not waiting for a reply, Guyon walks over to a small shelf that he was eventually going to install; beside it was a sack of food and the centaur pulls out a piece of smoked ham. Taking a few steps back towards the elf, Guyon pauses at the table, picking up a flask of ale. Holding out both commodities to the elf, he smiles. “Meh name is Guyon.”
Strend slowly enters the massive house, it seemed rather bare and undecorated. He takes in the sights, and stops when he sees the gigantic bow, that was over half the size of the elf himself."Is that yours?" Pointing towards the bow, before his attention finally snaps backtowards the centaur as he hears him ask questions."Oh me?" Pointing towards himself the elf continues,"I just like to explore, and learn the lands. Not much more to it." He then watches as the man hands him the ham, and shakes his head to decline it,"No thanks, I already have some food, you have already done enough getting me out of the weather." He then bows to introduce himself as well,"My name is Strend, The currently recovering gimp." He smiles largely, as he pronounces the newest of his titles.
Guyon turns his human torso to face the bow mounted on his wall- a small chuckle escapes his lips as the centaur nods, “Yeah, tha’s mine. Care teh try’t out?” Guyon nods slowly, amused at the elf’s adventurousness; there were few fool-hardy enough to travel the desert for profit, and even fewer who went for the sheer adventure of it. Guyon liked this elf. The ranger’s gaze flicks to Strend’s leg, his brows knitting themselves into a contorted concentration. “Gimp eh?” Eyes flick back to Strend’s face, then back down to the leg. “I can ‘eal tha’ if yeh want.”
Strend chuckles at the repetitive nature of the comment,"No thanks, I am enjoying letting it heal the hard way. It gives me great titles, plus I don't think my rather 'foolish' nature would ever learn, if I knew all my 'encounters' could easily be fixed." Smiling at the words, the elf himself knew he needed to learn someday. He then gazes back towards the bow,"I would love to, cept.." Looking down towards his recently recovered arm the elf sighs,"I do not believe my arm is quite ready to pull something so massive... That is, if I could in the first place." Then looking back outside he becomes more curious,"What makes you stay out here Guyon? Out here in this desolate, desert."
Guyon chuckles quietly, “Aye, learnin’ teh be wary –is- imp’rtant. ‘Nd I guess the titles ‘re worth it.” Turning to the table, Guyon pulls a chair out slightly, motioning that Strend is free to sit if he wished. Lifting his back left leg, the centaur taps the tip of his hoof on the floor- a repetitive motion caused by an old injury- and casts his eyes around his home, his ears listening to the sounds of the desert around him. Shutting his eyes for a moment, Guyon inhales deeply, the smell of the sand invigorating to the centaur. Opening his eyes once more, the centaur turns his attention back to Strend. “I ‘ave always lived in teh Desert, though I’m nawt from ‘ere or’ginally. I couldn’t imagine living anywh’re else.” Smiling to himself, Guyon continues- distracted by his genuine love for the desert lands. “I draw teh power tha’ I ‘ave from the sands ‘nd teh sun; without ‘em, I wouldn’t be too ‘appy.”
Strend walks over, and takes a seat in the chair pulled out for him. Listening to the centaur as he speaks,"Oh, well I must express my graditude. Otherwise I might still be out there in the harsh sand." He chuckles at the comment, as he jokes with the centaur.
Guyon nods quietly for a moment, agreement plain on the centaur’s face. “Aye, teh desert is a ‘arsh mistress, without a doubt. I ‘ave teh confess tha’ I’m nawt usually ‘ere though, I am usually out ‘unting or in teh Northern regions; but meh home is always open teh travelers like yerself.” The centaur bends his front legs, lowering the forward portion of his equine body to the floor before bending his back legs- leveling out his posture. As odd as it was for the centaur to be lying down, it allowed him to reach near eye-level to the elf. “I ferget ‘ow small yeh elves ‘re. I feel like a giant comp’red teh yeh.” Laughing for a moment, Guyon flicks away an imaginary fly with his tail before continuing. “As I said, I’m nawt always ‘ere, but if yeh find yerself down ‘ere ‘gain, feel free teh come ‘ere.”
Strend nods towards the centaur,"I think I might, it is a rather nice place." He gazes around the room again, looking to see more of the different things in the place, but finding few.Then as to change his topic of interest he asks,"So what do you hunt? It would have to be rather massive I assume, to feed the likes of you."
Guyon laughs loudly, his jovial nature shining through in the burst of laughter. Nice was not the way he imagined his home; it was more of a utility than anything. Guyon turns his gaze onto Strend, his cactus-green eyes shining in the desert moonlight. "I usually only 'unt fer trade. Skins 'nd furs for food 'nd other nec'ss'ties; 'owever, when I am down 'ere, I don't eat often. There's plenty o' scorpions 'nd snakes down 'ere to sustain me. Since I've lived in the desert all meh life, I'm used teh going long stretches o' time wit'out a lot o' food." Turning towards a tongue-in-cheek mode, the centaur prods the elf "'Nd you must eat bar'ly anythin'! Yer tiny, so I can't im'gine tha' yeh need much food."
Strend chuckles as the centaur prods him,"Aye, I do not eat to much. Here there and the other place. Normally, however when I do eat, it is to be formal, and with friends." Smiling slightly the elf adds,"Course, I have been known to drink just a bit much from time to time."
Guyon smiles warmly; the centaur preferred the company of elves- they were far more genial than most of the other races in the lands, centaurs included. “Aye, if only eating w’ren’t such a n’cessity, I dun think tha’ I’d e’er eat.” Another laugh escapes Guyon’s body, shaking his flanks slightly. The smile on the centaur’s face widens, nearly hiding his eyes from view, “I’m ‘fraid there tha’ I’ll ‘ave teh disappoint yeh; I dun like drinking much. Ne’er ‘ad much use fer it.” The smile has all but consumed the centaur’s facial expression, though it was not a rare occurrence. “My ‘erd was always confused by meh dist’ste fer drinking, but they got used teh it.” At the mention of his herd, Guyon’s eyes darken slightly, memories flitting back to consciousness.
Strend shrugs with disregard towards the drinking comment,"Eh, I have been cutting back. Gets me into to much trouble, course, angering slavers and dragons normally doesn't lead to good things. Don't get me wrong, I still do it, just not as much." As the elf hears talk of the mans herd his intrest grows, the elf himself being rather inquistive in nature."Where are you from Guyon?"
Guyon laughs quietly, the tones hushed in the growing night. The centaur had a reverence for the balance of the desert, and it seemed the night demanded lower, more reverential tones. Guyon chews his bottom lip for a moment, his eyes cast down and to the left. “I ‘m fro’ a place called Faulan; my ‘erd lived in the desert there.” The centaur’s smile had faded into a neutral expression bordering on sadness. “I grew up like e’ery other kid in the ‘erd; raced, ‘ad archery comp’titions… but I used teh run ‘way a lot too. I was restless.” Looking back up at Strend, Guyon takes a shallow breath and continues. “One day I stopped runnin’ ‘nd d’cided teh focus on my skills wit’ a bow…” Guyon gestures towards the eastern wall, “I won tha’ in a contest actually.”
Strend looks towards the bow again,"Oh, one day we may have to have our own contest." Smiling he looks back towards the centaur,"It sounds like a pleasent child hood, in fact, I wish I could remember my own." He sighs at the rather lack of memories he had.
Guyon shakes his head slowly, the sadness blatant now. “T’was a good childhood. If only it lasted. After I won tha’ contest, the war chief Sanzli took me under ‘is wing. We left for years ‘nd trained deep in teh desert. When we fin’lly emerged, e’erything was wrong. Teh ‘erd was r’vaged by a disease, ‘nd those tha’ weren’t dead were…. mad, insane. They w’rent who we ‘ad left th’se years ‘efore.” The centaur chokes on his words; they were the first time that he had told anyone of what had happened, but Guyon wasn’t prepared to spill the whole story; the atrocity still plagued him and voicing it would only turn the memories to a reality. Guyon shakes his head in an attempt to dispel the sudden shift in mood, his consciousness picking up on the mention of amnesia that Strend apparently suffered from. “Yeh can’t r’member yer childhood? Tha’s a shame. Do yeh a’ least know ‘ow yeh got teh these lands?”
Strend looked up at the centaur, his expression that of sorrow. He placed his hand on the centaurs shoulder as if to add comfort to the man."I am sorry about what happened to your tribe. It is rather sad indeed, and definatly not something I would wish on anyone." He held his head down as a sign of respect for a few moments, before turning his attention back up to the man."I don't rememeber anything, my age, my childhood, nothing. I just woke up, found this bow attached to my back, and a few daggers. Nothing of note really. As for how I got here, I think maybe I was born here... But I am unsure still." He sighs again, his head truly missing the past he had, but could not remember.
Guyon can’t help but smile at the gesture of sympathy; the centaur’s pride was usually too great to appreciate the empathy of others, but at this point, Guyon surprised himself by not flinching from the gesture. Canting his head to the side, the centaur’s mind is racing: he had heard of amnesia, but had never dealt with it directly. Immediately his thoughts turned to a healing, but a normal physical healing would not achieve the desired effects; perhaps it would take a psionic healer? Shaking his head, Guyon refocuses his eyes on Strend, a small smile breaking through to the surface once more. “Jus’ make sure yeh hold on teh what yeh had when yeh came to, yeah? Yeh may find tha’ they’re more imp’rtant than yeh think.”
Strend nods in appreciation towards the man,"Aye, I think you may be right. Course, all I woke up to was this bow." The elf holds up a slender, bow. Nothing seems special about it, just seemed like your normal, typical, recurve bow. (Oocly Later on I will play with it ^.^ As he gets his memory back, he will remember some magic being infused or such.) "And some clothes, they were rags and tattered however, as such I threw them. I now have me some nicer clothes, but normally just stick to my armor. For two reasons, one it is good training, even with a wounded leg, and for two, you never know when a random creature may attack you." He chuckled, thinking how many times creatures had failed to kill him, due to his armor alone.
Guyon laughs, the image of the elf in mere tatters and a bow is quite comical to the centaur. The sound of the night birds at the oasis alert Guyon to the hour. Twisting his head back from the window to Strend, the centaur sighs, pushing himself up back on all four feet again. Smiling, the centaur says "Tis gett'ng late 'nd teh desert is dang'rous at night. Yer more than welcome teh stay 'ere fer the night. I 'ave a bed if yeh'd like teh use it, or I can make yeh a pallet on the floor." Guyon gestures to the far left corner of the room, the bed doused in a silver moonlight.
Strend shakes his head towards the most generous host."I can take the floor, I have not a problem with it. As I have just been sleeping in a random empty house recently on the floor, I am rather use to it." He gives a rather reasuring smile, before pulling a blanket from his pack and laying upon the floor, draping the blanket over himself.