A Tree Sentinel.
One of the many dogs at The Golden Order's heels. He watched tarnished, some warriors of respectable strength, sorcerers with magic at their beck and call, and lowly nobodies with nothing more than a loincloth to their name, fall to the armored knight and steed. Few scratched the sizable shield the knight wielded. None managed to harm the knight.
On a hill overlooking the grassy plain lined with strung up victims, Kalé had caught sight of a lone tarnished, shirtless with a sword at his hip drawing dangerously close to the knight, ignorant of the danger. He'd intended on calling out to him. It wouldn't be good for business if one of the few people in this land willing to trade with his people ended up dead.
That intent died the moment the patrolling knight caught sight of the man.
There wouldn't be any business to be had if he ended up dead too.
He turned to slink away before the knight took notice of him after dealing with its newest victims. Except no screams came. Only the thuds, crashes, and winds of a prolonged fight.
Kalé, despite knowing better than to expect anything other than the norm in this land that only ever seemed to degrade with each passing day, found him drawn back to hill overlooking the plain.
Just in time to see the man shove a broken blade into the knight's neck, then another weapon into the eye, both collapsing to the ground. It was the tarnished who stood back up, clutching a bloodied side and out of breath, but still alive.
To think that it was not some armored warrior or studied sorcerer that put that Tree Sentinel down but a simple man that looked no stronger than any of the previous tarnished that faced that knight.
Appearances could be deceiving.
"Oi, friend!" Kalé called out. The man's head turned to him and he waved him over.
Drawing the attention of someone like that didn't come without risk. These days there were more madmen than those of sound mind roaming the Lands Between but he had a good feeling about that man down there. How many people would've tried to talk to someone showing such blatant hostility?
One of those madmen perhaps but the sort that business could be done with.
XOXO
Another stone structure, just as dilapidated as the one he'd chosen as meditation spot. Onyx trudged his way past its crumbling walls, steps in sync with his deliberates breaths.
Breathing, as he'd come to learn in one of his many lives, was a skill that could be honed like any other. With the right breathing method one could draw out more of their body's latent strength, enhance their stamina far beyond what they could normally manage, or in his case, attend to minor wounds.
This body's lacking strength and experience weren't doing him any favors, far too weak to make use of a vast majority of those techniques but he could manage a severely bastardized form of one of the recovery methods. His blood loss had slowed to a stop but the moment his concentration was thrown off it would return.
He might've stopped the countdown, but he was still on the clock with this wound.
"Greetings." In the corner of the fallen structure, the man that'd called out to him, dressed in a red hat and cape with white fur along their edges, sat at a small campfire. A donkey like creature sat behind him, both surrounded by sacks, pots, wood, and other luggage. A nomad of same kind? "I am Kalé. Purveyor of fine goods."
A merchant then? Convenient.
"You wouldn't happen to have any medical supplies on hand, would you?" Onyx asked, dragging himself over to the fire. He only took a seat beside it with a grunt after the man gestured for him to.
"I do." Kalé said while reaching for a nearby sack.
"The knight's armor and whatever else he had packed on that horse. You can have both in exchange." Onyx said. He'd already taken a look himself and didn't find much of anything beyond basic provisions but there wasn't even much of that. He couldn't tell why but that knight had been out in the plains for awhile.
"I see you're no stranger to bartering." Kalé said a clean piece of cloth pulled from the sack and unfurled on the ground beside him. A handful of herbs and a rolls of more cloth meant to acts as bandages were placed on the cloth. "But I'm afraid that wouldn't be a fair exchange."
His brow shot up. Did this merchant want that golden halberd too? He couldn't imagine the man thought he could shake him down for anything more. Someone walking around in nothing but shoddily made pants didn't scream wealth and resourcefulness.
A small steel telescope and a small pouch were placed on the cloth as well. "Tools to help with your survival in these trying times. It doesn't quite even things out but it tips the scales a little." Kalé said, the cloth pushed around the campfire. Onyx grabbed the edge, pulling it over to him. A look in the pouch revealed a number of things. String, some wires, a small blade meant for more delicate work rather than combat, among other tools. If one knew how to make use of all of them they could create a number of useful things with its contents and the abundance of natural resources scattered across the greenery here.
"That's generous." Onyx noted, surprised. After being attacked by all those demi-humans and that knight's deadly hostility this was a nice change of pace.
"A luxury these days I admit, but we outsiders should help each other where we can, no?" Kalé said with a slight tilt of the head as he reached over to wooden instrument, carefully placing his fingers along its strings. "My people and you tarnished are kindred souls in a way."
"And what gives you the idea that I'm one of these tarnished?" Onyx questioned while reaching for the medical supplies.
"You only recently arrived here haven't you? In time you'll learn to tell those who still live in these lands apart from one another." Kalé offered something of a weary smile. "Point is, few take to either of our people kindly, especially these days. I believe there is an understanding to be found in that."
Maybe this tarnished business is why that knight attacked me. Onyx deduced, beginning to wrap his wound after cleaning it as best he could. Stitching and more delicate work on it could be done later so long as he kept the bleeding under control.
Friendly as this man appeared that wasn't enough reason to fully oust himself as a foreigner in this place. A bit tact was needed in his position.
"How about books and the like? You sell any of that?"
"Hmmm, I doubt its recreational reading you're in search of." Kalé began a slight strum on the wooden guitar like instrument, nor quite forming a coherent tune. "If its information you're after, I certainly do deal in that but if you're after scrolls and the like, even in these times, the sorcerers of Raya Lucaria tightly guard such information. There is little I can provide on that front."
Sorcery huh? That was but one of the many names magic tended to be labeled. Whatever it entailed in this world it sounded like he wouldn't be some one of kind being that others would label a freak or some kind of holy figure once he started making use of his magic if there was an entire academy around. He was rather curious what process and ritual these sorcerers made use of, however.
"That's a shame." Onyx said before release a long breath, pain flaring across his chest. This body really was lacking if maintaining a stunted breathing technique like that for such a short amount of time was enough to stress the lungs to such a degree. Either way, the tightly wound bandage prevented the blood flow from starting back up.
"I assume furs, meat, and bones will make for decent bartering material?"
"Yes."
"Alright, then." Onyx stood up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. "I'll be back for this information of yours soon."
Kalé hummed, nodding. As Onyx turned to leave, however, the merchant's strumming stopped. "One last thing, friend. A free piece of information, if you would. Avoid following the trail leading to the northeast. Knights of Godrick patrol those roads. I believe that are actively pursuing your kind."
Tarnished he meant? Onyx nodded and fully took his leave from the dilapidated structure. He'd been lucky enough to find himself a source of information. The reliability of it was questionable but even lies that may or not be fed to him could better reveal how things worked in this world.
He dropped a hand to his side, wincing as he pressed against his bandaged side.
He'd track down dinner, but a mass hunting spree would have to wait for now.
Man, he'd forgotten what it was like to be in a body unstrengthen by mana.
XOXO
A dented metal pot, one of few useful things within the demi-humans' stash, hung from frayed rope, the flames of a small campfire licking its rusted bottom. The dark liquid within bubbled around diced meat, wild carrots, herbs, and cut up mushrooms. It didn't exactly look appetizing but his growling stomach was barely concerned with that, roaring for the freshly prepared meal.
Onyx dipped a wooden tankard, another thing taken from the demi-humans, into the liquid, filling to the brim before blowing away some of the steam and bringing it to his lips. The soup itself was too bitter, the meat gamey, and the other stuff too bland to do any heavy lifting for the taste.
All in all? Pure shit.
All the same, the steaming soup left him feeling warm and would undoubtedly leave him filled before he finished the pot. Tasty or not, this body would need all the meals it could get to get the most out of training.
At least until there was mana flowing through it.
"What are you doing over there, Boc?" Onyx questioned, another tankard dipped into the liquid. He held the dripping thing out for Boc who sat a small distance away from the campfire. "You don't want any?"
"I…I can have some?"
"Of course. You're the one who picked out the herbs and other stuff. Its only fair that we share it."
Boc, jittery and unsure, stared at him as though he were some kind of alien. To be fair, that's wasn't an inaccurate term for him, but his people must've treated him pretty badly if being told to join a meal brought about such a reaction. That or Boc was still struggling to wrap his head around the fact the same human who cut down his people was showing kindness of all things to him.
The way Boc made it sound, the friendliest thing humans did to his kind was give them places to sleep. And that was only after enslaving them and said places were probably worse than the stables animals were kept in.
Ah, racial tensions. Whether it be something as insignificant as skin color or completely different races, where ever there were people, they would pick out someone to drop the boot of oppression on without fail. Sometimes it didn't have much to do with race, class differences, among other things being a driving force. One of the sadder constants between worlds.
Boc slowly joined him at the campfire grabbing own of the steaming. "T-Thank you, master Onyx." He said through what sounded like a sniffle.
Onyx shook his head. "Just Onyx. "
Boc nodded, still sniffling as he started eating the soup. He wasn't going to cry over such a simple thing was he?
Luckily, that didn't come to pass, their meal enjoyed in relative silence. Dipping his tankard into the half-empty pot again, Onyx stopped, attention snapping to his right.
A snout. Dark eyes. A mane split by curled horns.
Boc squeaked, tankard spilled as he scurried away. Onyx stayed in place, raising a brow as a dark horse, forming from misty blue smoke, trotted up to the campfire, neighing as it shook its head.
"Greetings." Onyx said. "I guess there's enough to go around for another." The horse release another neigh and lowered its head, one of its horns pointed towards the wrapped cloth beside him. He reached into it, producing an unused carrot that the animal wasted no time in biting down on.
He hadn't expected one of his stalkers to make such an abrupt appearance. The other refused to show themselves but he was sure they were right next to the odd steed, their presence brushing the edges of his senses when he focused.
Onyx lowered his tankard to the damp ground and stroked the horse's face.
As he was now he'd struggled to tell at a distance but now that he was face to face with one of the curious beings that was tailing him wherever he went, there could be no doubt.
They, or at the very least this horse, held no ill will towards him.