Outlander
"Fantastic! I will take you to my father immediately." She gives a letter of pardon to the warden and you are released. As the two of you walk to the main castle, your liberator introduces herself.
"My name is Merida."
"My name is Nathan."
"Nathan, huh? I think I like Outlander better. It makes you sound less like a peasant."
You are briefly offended, but then she laughs and you are lost in the melodious roll of her humor. The two of you share stories and laughter until you encounter her father who sizes you up with a harsh analytical glare.
The Horsemaster, leader of all Hoofdown is big. Not just tall, but wide as well; filling his leather armor with more muscle than a blacksmith. His face seems to be carved of stone, a gray brown beard, an angular nose, and eyes that are as black and cold as obsidian.
"This the new rider?" he asks abruptly.
"Aye, Horsemaster," Merida replies, the mirth gone from he voice.
"What do you carry, boy?"
"I'm sorry-?"
"Weapon's, son! What do you know how to fight with?"
Meekly, you pull out the spell book from your vest pocket. Immediately, the Horsemaster looks away in disgust.
"I ask for warriors and you bring me a Charmweaver!"
"He is an outlander and he is loyal to you for freeing him from prison. He may not be a lancer like all your generals are, but he is smart and capable. He'll learn."
Still frustrated, but conceding, he replies: "Fine. Give him to Cyoa. She's the only one I can spare to train the whelp."
Merida then leads you away; this was apparently a dismissal. When outside, you ask, "When will I begin training?"
"First things first, Outlander. I'm taking you to your horse."
"I get a horse?"
"You're in Hoofdown. Everyone gets a horse."
She leads you to a stable with a sparse population of steeds. The mare she grabs the bridle of is gaunt and mangy. Her coat is uneven and matted and her hooves look like they haven't seen a fresh shoe their entire life.
"This is Cyoa," Merida says. "Let the training begin."
"My name is Merida."
"My name is Nathan."
"Nathan, huh? I think I like Outlander better. It makes you sound less like a peasant."
You are briefly offended, but then she laughs and you are lost in the melodious roll of her humor. The two of you share stories and laughter until you encounter her father who sizes you up with a harsh analytical glare.
The Horsemaster, leader of all Hoofdown is big. Not just tall, but wide as well; filling his leather armor with more muscle than a blacksmith. His face seems to be carved of stone, a gray brown beard, an angular nose, and eyes that are as black and cold as obsidian.
"This the new rider?" he asks abruptly.
"Aye, Horsemaster," Merida replies, the mirth gone from he voice.
"What do you carry, boy?"
"I'm sorry-?"
"Weapon's, son! What do you know how to fight with?"
Meekly, you pull out the spell book from your vest pocket. Immediately, the Horsemaster looks away in disgust.
"I ask for warriors and you bring me a Charmweaver!"
"He is an outlander and he is loyal to you for freeing him from prison. He may not be a lancer like all your generals are, but he is smart and capable. He'll learn."
Still frustrated, but conceding, he replies: "Fine. Give him to Cyoa. She's the only one I can spare to train the whelp."
Merida then leads you away; this was apparently a dismissal. When outside, you ask, "When will I begin training?"
"First things first, Outlander. I'm taking you to your horse."
"I get a horse?"
"You're in Hoofdown. Everyone gets a horse."
She leads you to a stable with a sparse population of steeds. The mare she grabs the bridle of is gaunt and mangy. Her coat is uneven and matted and her hooves look like they haven't seen a fresh shoe their entire life.
"This is Cyoa," Merida says. "Let the training begin."