[center][h2] [color=f7941d]Rostam[/color] [/h2][/center]
[h3][center]The Eastern Field [/center][/h3]
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Rostam, his Master close in tow, approached the Eastern field where the meeting was to take place and quickly made himself at home. He had been happy to attend, an almost complete reversal of the frustration he would have experienced before the fulfillment of his wish. Now, with no desperate driving goal, he felt himself glad for the chance to test the hospitality of this so called Church, and their appointed men. He only wished that he had brought along finer clothes for the occasion. As it was, he had debated deeply with himself over whether or not to ride into the meeting. It was after all, the closest he could come to an affectation at this point. 

He had decided against it in the end however, a Rider's most prized weapon would not be suitable to a strict peace talk. 

So it was that, horseless and shed of armor, Rostam took his place on the meeting field dressed in simple but elegant clothing over which he wore his tiger striped dragon skin. This was the one thing he never took off. 

Stalking slowly into the meeting clearing he paused, scanning the place and the long tables filled with food. Ruler himself seemed to be cooking something, much to his surprise, though he had broken off in favor of speaking with a newcomer, a man who was clearly a Servant as well.

Unclear as he was on precise rules of edicate here, Rostam abstained from the food for the time being instead inspecting some of the few people who had shown up. 

His eyes came to rest on a grey haired man with a gloomy air. By the standards of the others around him he was a tall and well balanced hero, and Rostam could guess from a simple glance that he was a mighty champion. The size of the weapon slung across his back alone was impressive, and he found himself giving the Servant ornate armor an approving look. It was heavy and ornate, at once suggesting both wealth and strength to be able to carry and maintain it.  

Slowly, as to not cause alarm, he made his way over the man, stopping only to see that his Master was still alright before approaching within a few paces of him, to look down on his strangely white hair. 

[color=f7941d]"You seem to be a warrior of no small means, or nerve, to come to a peaceful meeting so bedecked. For myself, no clothes of this era fit me at all, but I still have put away my armor. I am Rostam, put away your sword and eat with me. It is improper for two great heroes to feast alone, especially in a foreign land. [/color]

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