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Stratya Durmand
Time: 25th, Evening
Location: Pinebrook Camping
Attire: Very Light Armor Set
Zweihander Greatsword + Simple Leather Sheath
Swordbreaker
Family Dirk + Crest
Interactions: Ariella @Tpartywithzombi, Callum @Helo, Riona [@JJDoe]
Mentions: Kira @Potter
The thing that got her most was the scar. You don’t come back from that one. No one that lost their head ever recovered, it was a sure death. She supposed there were other ways to get a scar like that, but all the way around? Everything told her that the man there should be dead. Who’s body even was that? Had she even found his body in the first place? She had to believe the hound, but had someone else tried very deliberately to deceive any investigative pursuits, and make her think it had been his body? That seemed like a lot of effort, though.
Ariella was, indeed, interested in swordsmanship lessons. That was well. Self-defense was a good thing for a young lady to know. She would have broached the subject further, but the young lady had her attention caught by the youngest prince and excused herself. She watched her go to join the royal and Riona, before deciding she would follow as she slipped her foraging dagger back into her bag and slung her greatsword over her shoulder, a relaxed position not intended for drawing. She saw the expressions they were wearing. Yes, she wasn’t the only one.
As though they were thinking the same, Callum found her and motioned her to join them. She approached with a smile, with only a hint of weariness. If that was Darryn’s head, if his head had, for some reason, been selected for a new body and necromancy, what did that mean? Why go to the trouble? Could they see or hear them through his senses? Was he loyal, and would report back? With a possible known agent so close, she had to be careful.
And that woman. That woman that didn’t fit. Clearly not an average commoner, her clothes were too.. fine. Was she a foreign noble? Perhaps, but something about her seemed too.. roguish? She couldn’t risk saying anything such, but when she thought about the Alidasht nobles she’d met, that woman still didn’t quite sit right. Ah well. Maybe she’d figure it out later.
“Prince Callum,” Stratya smiled as she approached the group of three. She drew back the tartan cloth over her breadbasket, “a baked good tae steady yerr though’s? Rriona? Seems work ‘as followed us from t’ morgue, ey.” That’s where his head should have been. She spoke in a soft voice, “did y’ no’ice ‘is scarr?”
It wasn’t necessarily a question she needed answered. More boistrously, ”on an evenin’ like this, you shoul’ ‘ave a lit’le drrink, I think. Brrough’ two bot’les o’ me brrother’s mead, I did. There’s all t’is rroasted mea’ and camp nibblin’s tae go wit’ it, too! ‘ere’s some cookin’ even’, too, aye? I ‘avn’t cooked f’r owt ‘sides me in a while. Bakin’, aye, but ‘at’s diff’rrent.”
”Oh, Lady Arriella,” Stratya dug into her bag and produced the dagger, which she offered, “farr t’ firrs’ parr’ o’ y’ trrainin’, carry t’is and get accustomed tae i’s weigh’, and i’ bein’ a’ yerr side. We’ll got forraging la’er, tae ‘elp ye ge’ used tae usin’ i’. I’ll grrab my lieutena’ forr y’ tae prractice with boffles tomahrruh. Y’ may drraw tae inspect the blade only, and rr’memberr tha’ if you touch t’ steel, y’ll ‘ave tae clean it, or i' 'ill rrust in time.”