House Ambry/Nightsilver/Vreht Krylerk/Demacia
"You need a horse." The Lycan simply stated, as he examined the amount of dirt, mud and grime spattering the Drow Ranger's armor. Not to mention, her severely exhausted features.
Traxex groaned like a child being taken away to sleep. She had waited for days for someone to finally point out the damned obvious thing. While Banehallow is part-wolf and almost immune to exhaustion and Mirana had Sagan to (reluctantly) carry her around, Traxex only had her own legs to rely on for movement.
"When you joined us, we actually started progressing even slower on the terrain," Banehallow continued, oblivious or uncaring about the annoyed glare Traxex was giving him. "Maybe we can pass by a stable and use the princess' needlessly large amount of funds to procure you some means of transport."
"It never hurts to be prepared, Banehallow." Mirana called out from her inside her tent. The Lycan found himself surprised; she was usually already sound asleep at this hour. "Who knows, we just might make use of my needlessly large amount of funds on our way to Lyonhall."
The Lycan spared a look at Sagan's tired form, lying down next to the campfire. In response, Sagan whined at him, imitating a wolf.
"Aha, I think your poor mount over here disagrees with you." Banehallow called back to Mirana, over at her side of the camp. "Carrying a chest full of gold is a lot harder than it looks."
"Fine, just be quiet!" The princess' slightly muffled voice shouted back again. "The Princess of the Moon needs her royal sleep!"
The Lycan rolled his glowing yellow eyes and settled himself back to his makeshift seat of a wooden log.
Traxex folded her arms and pouted. "I don't plan on relying on horses to carry me around any time soon. I can handle myself."
Banehallow turned his attention to Traxex again. "Then you might get disheartened by the fact that we need to cross a couple hundred more miles worth of rough terrain," He matter-of-factly informed the Drow Ranger. "Are you prepared to trek across the unforgiving countryside with nothing but your own two feet?"
The Drow Ranger flinched. The Lycan was a lot less civil years ago, if she remembered correctly. "I... no." She finally answered. "Perhaps I do need a mount. But still, I won't go near a horse if I could help it."
The Lycan cocked a curious brow as he studied Traxex again. Even by tiny amounts, he can still sense her apprehension upon being looked at by her former worst enemy, but Banehallow can also detect a different kind of fear from her - one that's most likely caused by some traumatic experience in her past, caused by horses. Perhaps it's because of the Chaos Knight? He absently pondered.
"Hmm..." Banehallow folded his arms and diverted his gaze to the campfire instead. "This is a long-shot, but I think you might have a bit of a disliking for horses." He stated, as deadpan as he could muster.
"Two obvious things in one day," Traxex dryly quipped. "Very perceptive of you, Lycan."
Banehallow grinned, exposing his teeth that looked a little too pointed and sharp to be normal. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that. On a more relevant note, have you talked to anyone about your dislike for horses?"
"You keep saying that term," Traxex kept sassing the Lycan. "No, I haven't. I'm not exactly one to associate with people."
The Slomite dropped his smile. He looked above the treeline and saw no signs that the sun will be rising up any time soon. He turned to the Drow Ranger again. "Horses are the most common and most convenient form of transportation in Cyrillia, Traxex. You can't just hate the animals for no reason. Tell me, why exactly do you detest them?"
The ranger gave the Lycan a look of incredulity and doubt. "You do know that I couldn't just tell a Dire lackey about my life just because I was asked to. Besides, from the bizarre and highly improbable things you've seen in service to your Ancient, my past should be quite dull compared to your experiences."
The Lycan folded his arms and gave Traxex a hard, serious look. "The Dire controlled me a long time ago, as you should know. At least I have the decency to leave it before it took me over completely," He let his arms fall to his side once more. "But this conversation isn't about me, no. We were talking about you."
The Drow Ranger didn't relent. "I told you, it's not that interesting to hear."
"It's not like we have anything better to do right now, eh?" Banehallow said, gesturing at his darkened environment. "Come on, let's hear it. I promise I'll listen."
Banehallow seemed sincere, Traxex thought. He already propped himself on his seat straighter and was looking at her intently. In the end, she acquiesced.
"...Okay. I'll start from the beginning; and you better listen. I'm only going to say this once."
"All ears, am I." The Lycan responded.
The Drow Ranger let out a long, winded sigh. She took one of her arrows from her quiver without thinking and began fiddling with it.
"Well, I was just a twelve-year-old girl then. I can't say I can still remember much of the details... but I do remember the time when my family was still alive; it was just myself, father, mother, and my brother." Traxex narrated for Banehallow. "I think... we were trying to flee from something... a civil war, maybe."
Banehallow remembered his own time, back when his own family still lived. He remembered that a civil war also ended the lives of almost all under his house.
"Anyways, my father called any relatives of my family still alive, and made a plan to travel north, to safer lands." The ranger continued. "Thus, my family tried to save all they could and placed them in wagons, forming a large caravan. I remember that our own wagon was placed at the very front, because father was leading the caravan."
"What is this path you were travelling?" Banehallow slowly inquired. "I've a feeling it isn't a safe one."
Traxex shook her hooded head. "Not at the very least, no. Father was aware of the danger posed by the local wildlife and the close proximity of our path to a rather large community of drowfolk, but it was the shortest and quickest way to safety, and he was willing to risk it." She began to pluck out individual feathers from her arrow's fletching - somewhat forcefully, as the Lycan observed.
"For two weeks we travelled fast and quiet; our rests are short and sporadic. Father feared that someone unwelcome must be following our trail, so we tried to move as swift as our wagons could go." The ranger began to hold the arrow by the shaft with both of her gloved hands, as if she was testing the projectile's strength.
"But in the end, it wasn't enough to save the caravan." Banehallow cringed as Traxex snapped the arrow in two, making a sharp snapping noise as she did so. "Bandits laid a trap along the path; they blocked our only way out of the ambush by felling large trees over it. Father took his trusty musket and handed my brother a pistol. I remember him telling my mother to take me and hide in one of the wagons - wait for the fighting to stop. Then, he and brother left."
Banehallow wasn't quite sure that there is a happy ending to the Drow Ranger's story. "Your family... do you remember their names?"
Traxex shook her head again, more rigid and forceful this time around. "N-no. Their names were lost to me long ago..."
Even with limited contact with other people for most of his adult life, the Lycan at least knew when to fold his cards. Traxex's lips are already quivering a bit, and she seemed gloomier than usual. "I can see that this is a very personal thing, this story you're telling me. I understand if you want to stop; there are some things I'd never discuss with mere acquaintances as well."
It was then that Banehallow realized that he was supposed to be on guard duty exactly as of now. He made to stand and leave, but Traxex halted him with an outstretched hand.
"Wait! Don't leave!" In apparent panic, the Drow Ranger called out. She deflated almost immediately thereafter, slowly retracting her arm. "What I mean is, I've never told anyone about this. I already told you part of it - I couldn't stop now..."
Once again, the Lycan couldn't help but feel a little worried about himself when he felt some measure of sympathy for his former prey. It really does seem that his time with the Radiant changed him somehow, and the thought of it didn't feel right with him.
"...Then tell me the rest of it." Banehallow settled back into his log and made himself as comfortable as he could again. He was hopeful that nothing should wander into the camp without him standing guard.
The Drow Ranger took a bit of her time before continuing. Banehallow could practically taste the awkwardness of their situation.
"Right, well... that's the last time I ever saw my father and my brother alive." She said, a bit of forced strength in her voice. "From the awful sounds mother and I heard coming from outside the wagon, it's not hard to assume that the bandits slaughtered everyone they came across, including half of my family. We had no delusions of safety as we hid; we already knew from the beginning that the bandits will break into our wagon and do whatever their twisted minds can come up with." The ranger sighed forlornly.
"But I never could predict that mother was not planning on letting our attackers have their way with us." Traxex continued. "She told me that the wagon we hid in was housing hundreds of dynamite sticks, and she could use it to her advantage."
"Not a very good way to go, but with the situation at hand," Banehallow grimaced as he thought of what could happen to a young girl and her mother in the hands of a vicious bandit group. "...preferable."
The Drow Ranger nodded slightly, "Yes, but she believed I still have a chance at life. Mother told me to escape using a small wooden hatch on the wagon's floor. From there, I'd crawl my way to the horses, take one and discretely try my hand at fleeing our attackers."
Banehallow figured that the following part should be the answer to his question. He steadied himself to hear the end of what was actually quite an interesting tale by Traxex, despite her insistences.
"I left the wagon through the hatch before the bandits arrived. In my terror, I didn't bother trying to be quiet as I made my way to the horses; I cried as I ran clumsily. Even now, I chide myself for being so loud, so damned noisy. The bandits were on to me within seconds, but I still managed to reach the horses, thank the stars. I hurried in fear as I ushered the animal to start galloping as fast as it could, and with luck, I managed to reach a distance from that dreadful place that should warrant me safety and freedom from the bandits. In the distance, I could hear an ear-splitting noise from the caravan's direction... I realized that mother has departed the world."
The Lycan scratched his chin in confusion. "Wait, hold on. You managed to escape the highwaymen scum?"
He instantly regretted his decision to interrupt. Traxex looked positively furious as she glared at him. "I did not escape." She grumpily stated, before resuming her story with the same tone-of-voice earlier. "I thought so too that I'd have evaded the scum. I was soon proven to be mistaken, when my horse suddenly stopped galloping. From the distance behind me, I could hear high-pitched whistling; they were whistling for my horse!"
Banehallow raised an eyebrow in curiosity. That horse must be very well trained to be acknowledging a horse whistle, but apparently, not very well trained enough to recognize that a stranger has been the one whistling for it.
"My situation took a turn for the worse when the stupid animal I trusted to lead me to safety had decided to turn around and start marching for the opposite direction." Traxex definitely sounded bitter. "I tried to stop it; I tried pulling its reins, pushing on its head, striking it... everything a terrified child could do. As you might've guessed, it wasn't enough; the bandits caught up to me before my panicked mind could even think of abandoning my treacherous mount and making a run for it."
Banehallow did not like where the tale was heading. Not one bit.
"If I thought that the bandits couldn't get any more terrible, I was quickly proven to be mistaken again. Still on my horse, they ushered me back to the caravan, where they forced me to see what cruel and depraved things they've done to my relatives... my family. Then they tore me from the horse and threw me to the muddy ground. One of them walked up to me, sword in hand. He raised his weapon to strike me down, but thank the stars, he wasn't able to land his blow."
"Drowfolk?" Banehallow guessed. He braced himself for a weathering glare.
The Drow Ranger slowly nodded in affirmative, and the Lycan let out a breath he was holding back. "Yes. A hail of arrows skewered my would-be killer dead. I panicked again and scurried off to hide under an overturned wagon near me. I can only hear the bandits' cries and screams as hundreds of arrows came from seemingly all directions. The screaming died out relatively quickly, replaced by sounds of small creatures scampering about. It wasn't long before the drow found my hiding place under that ruined wagon."
"So, that was when you came to be taken under the drowish people's care?" The Lycan asked. "It was the drow who taught you the skills and abilities that gave you a reputation the masterful archer you are now?"
For the first time in the evening, Traxex smiled. It was small and insignificant-looking, but it meant something. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Lycan, but yes. That's correct; I owe my life and the very few things I own to the drowfolk, my adopted family."
Then the smile faded. She was back to her usual self. "Lycan... that is why I have a 'dislike for horses'. But I do admit that my fate would've been very uncertain if I had escaped successfully; I never would've met the drow, and the northern lands can be unforgiving to a child with nothing but a mount."
"Well, since we're on a bit of a tight schedule, this issue of yours might become a problem." Banehallow noted. "Remember, I need you and Mirana fit for combat at all times, and you obviously can't be fighting well if you're exhausted from constant marching."
"I know, I know." Traxex covered her mouth with her hands and sighed. "I'll try to think of something I can do to help."
"You probably wish you bought spare Boots of Travel from a keeper right now, ah?" The Lycan jested. He slowly stood from his seat. "Try not to stay up too late, drow. I need you rested and strong; Lyonhall won't be getting nearer if we stay put."
With that said, the Lycan picked up his rifle from the ground, slung it over his shoulder and started to walk towards the darkened woods, to finally start with his duty of guarding the camp for nightly intruders. Banehallow just needed to find a tall tree overlooking the camp and he's already done half the job.
"Von Ambry," The Drow Ranger began, just as he was about to leave. "...thank you for listening."
Banehallow halted his steps and half turned. "You're welcome, and..." The Lycan paused for a moment, then he uncertainly added, "-and good night."
The Slomite noble slowly took steps back as he turned to the woods. He made a complete turn after some more steps, and found himself spotting a tall, shadowy figure wielding some sort of jagged lance slowly shambling his way in the trees with an odd, stilted gait, like he was wounded or confused.
Surprised, the Lycan swiftly took his rifle by the handle and levelled it at the figure in the distance. He can't help but feel a slight bit of apprehension for not having caught this stranger's scent as he approached the camp; it's as if he just materialized into existence just as Banehallow was making his way for the woods.
"Traxex! Take your bow and wake Mirana!' He shouted to the Drow Ranger behind him. "We've got company!"
The figure, apparently in a daze and severely disoriented, stood straighter and more alert upon hearing Banehallow shout. Slowly, he started to quicken his pace as he made his way for the Lycan.
"Stop right there! Don't come any closer and state your business!" Banehallow called out to the figure as he flicked his rifle's safety lock off. When the figure neglected to halt his march, the Lycan was forced to fire off a warning shot, which reduced a young tree next to the figure into a shower of splinters. "I said stop!"
His warnings were for naught. The figure advanced without slowing, seemingly unafraid of being fired upon. As he got closer, the figure's form started to give the idea that he was wearing heavy armor, with curved spikes adorning each shoulderpad.
As Banehallow readjusted his aim, Mirana and Traxex have made their presence known just behind him, their weapons at the ready.
"Right, what in Mene's name is going on?" The princess, still in her sleeping garments and mounted on a half-asleep Sagan, grumpily asked Banehallow.
"We've got us an uninvited guest." The Lycan muttered. "I'd keep an arrow ready, if I were you. He doesn't look like he came here to make friends in that armor."
Just when the Lycan thought that he'd have to put a bullet on one of the fearless stranger's legs the next time he fired, the figure suddenly crumpled to the ground, as if his boots had tripped on something.
"Arrgh!" The figure cried out in pain as his armored form hit the ground with a clunk. He was apparently panting in exhaustion as he called out, "Help! Help me!"
Mirana looked down at Traxex from her mount. "Did our would-be attacker just call to us for help?" She asked in incredulity and disbelief.
The Drow Ranger frowned. "It seems like it."
"Well, should we help?" Banehallow briefly regarded his two companions with an aside glance as he asked them for their input. "I can tell that he's in pain." He still kept his rifle trained on the downed figure. "A bit disoriented, too."
"I think we should, but I don't like the prospect of helping out complete strangers in a forest in the middle of nowhere. For all we know, he might just want us to get closer to use that lance of his." Mirana was wary of the stranger's intentions. "Tread lightly."
Banehallow took a moment to himself, deciding on his action. With a shrug and a sigh, he looked to Mirana. "Alright. Princess, you're with me. Traxex will stay in cover and watch our backs; our guest might not be alone."
"I knew I should've changed clothes..." Mirana muttered to herself with disdain as ushered Sagan to follow the Lycan as he snaked forward, rifle in hand.
The Lycan halted his advance halfway through. He held up a hand and motioned for the princess to let him deal with the intruder alone. Warily, Mirana and Sagan backed off, taking their positions at the rear.
As slow and careful as possible, Banehallow walked up to the figure. Now that he stood at a very close proximity to him, the Lycan can tell that the armor the figure was wearing was apparently trimmed heavily with a reflective and very precious metal ー gold. He raised an eyebrow at this; no mere scoundrel would be rich enough to line his armor with something so rare and precious as gold.
"You alright there?" The Lycan prodded the armored man's shoulderpad with the muzzle of his rifle.
The man very slowly propped himself to a sitting position, using his lance to help himself up. "I... I t-think my leg's broken..."
Banehallow paid his attention to the man's armored leg, and he flinched at the sight. It looks to be twisted in an odd angle, and was bleeding quite a bit. "By God, what happened to that?"
The man shook his head as he took ragged, labored breaths. "Don't know, I think I might've f-fallen off of something t-tall."
The Lycan shouldered his weapon, convinced that there was never any threats. "Nothing tall out here to climb but the trees. Did you fell off one while climbing it?"
He shook his head again. "I c-can't tell. I don't remember anything."
After taking a moment to himself, Banehallow decided that they might just need to take care of this strange, injured stranger. He bent down and took hold of the man's shoulder. "Right, you'll die if you don't get that leg treated for infection." The Slomite helped the man to stand, as careful as he could.
"Can you at least tell me who you are?" Banehallow inquired while he walked back to Mirana and Traxex, with the stranger's armored arm over his shoulder. "Where did you come from?"
The man could do nothing but shake his head.
"I don't know." He mumbled, after a long pause.
Yes, the guy is an amnesiac Prince Jarvan. Now, on to Abaddon.