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Ivor’s gaze shifted between the woman and her horse, neither trusted his sudden presence, which was fair given his outstanding gait, but he wasn’t here to make enemies. As the woman tried to calm her steed, Ivor began to remove his kills from his body. Each corpse slowly draped down onto the deer and as Ivor slowly lowered himself into a crouch on all fours, his eyes never left the steed. Each move he made was deliberate, careful, he spoke to the creature in his native tongue, a noise comparable to rocks and stones being slurried through a river. His voice, still gruff, was now fluent; it sounded harsh, rough, direct, but its tone was affirmative and somehow calm like a low rumble. Some could consider what he was doing witchcraft, but this was the [b]man[/b], Ivor, trying to reach out to the beast, to look past his blighted form.

[color=9a45dc][i]“Calm, Agnar. I come to you in peace my brother,”[/i][/color] Ivor bowed respectively, like a servant would to a king, acknowledging this creature’s strength and majesty. [color=9a45dc][i]“You are tired, your master is tired, we are here to help and make you whole again.”[/i][/color] Ivor inched ever closer, the steed stamping its hoof in protest, but lessening with each word spoken. Once close enough, he closed the gap and gently stroked the horse’s mane. Where there were panicked noises, was now replaced with the heavy breathing of a stallion realizing it was out of steam, and allowed this giant to touch him. [color=9a45dc]“Good Agnar, good calm,”[/color] Ivor spoke as he shifted back to the common tongue, [color=9a45dc]“Jabool!”[/color] He exclaimed as he nodded to the guard before turning his attention back to the rider, taking a knee in front of her.

He listened as best he could to her words, he’d only been here for a few months and barely knew the common tongue beforehand. While he’d certainly made leaps and bounds in progress and basic grammar, if it wasn’t obvious before, the common tongue was not his first language. He placed a hand on his chest, [color=9a45dc]“My name, Ivor, this is Dawn Haven, our home,”[/color] he said, extending it out to the settlement. [color=9a45dc]“You are Lunaran? Yes? I take you to other Lunarans, but first you see, Syraeia.”[/color] He paused for any of her protests before continuing deliberately, [color=9a45dc]“You. Need. Rest. Rider…”[/color] Standing to full height he walked to his makeshift sled, picking up his kills to drape around his neck again. [color=9a45dc]“I do not…err what is word..[b]presume[/b], yes? That you want to be carried, but you are can not stand, so…”[/color] picking up the stag from the sled, he hauled up the body like a sack of potatoes, [color=9a45dc]“A lady… needs a chariot, yes?”[/color] Or so he thought, at least that’s what the story books he was reading said anyway. He gestured for her to get on, at least this way he could bring her to the inn where Syraeia was sure to have something warm and filling.

[sub][@PrinceAlexus][/sub]