Running of the Horses
To the south of RhyDin, on the island The GrevShar people call Shatra, it was the time of year for The Running. The Running, an annual event has been held without fail for over fifteen hundred years and one from each of the families are expected and indebted to participate.
There were hundreds of GrevShar families known to exist after the Hukszaen, a great war among the people that sent them to all area of RhyDin's glob ? and further beyond that. By the lore keeper, Taveress, there were precisely seven seventeen clans that had splintered from the Great Family that day so long ago.
And it looked like most of them were already on Shatra when TeRa Vash arrived. She was the Legacy-Bearer of The Vash people. Only by birth and only since she was the only child that her mother and father had born into the world was it that she came to be the bearer.
She stepped off of her sola-sail skimmer that she had sailed in on from the extreme, north-eastern reaches of RhyDin. The ship was not a large one, but it was hers. Its lithe craftsmanship was slender and long with room enough to two grown people comfortably beneath its deck. A tall, pike of a mast was little more than a needle against the sea and horizon.
The sails that took the heat and light of the sun and not the wind alone to power it were down and fasted to its cross crosspoles securely.
TeRa had said many times that she thought that The Running was a waste of time and that is was an event full of traditions and ways of a bygone era. But secretly, she enjoyed it. It wasn't for the bickering and blades being drawn with the thread of bloodshed. It certainly wasn't to meet babies and wives and husbands brought to introduce these next generations to everyone.
She stood on the stone pier and tied the solar sail skimmer to a thick, iron loop at its end. TeRa was dressed more like a GavShar male than one of the women. She wore a leather vest over a shirt with long sleeves that billowed and several, thin, layered collars of cloth about the neck.
The ties on both the shirt and vest were undone to a few inches below her neckline. Leather britches were tucked into knee high boots and a belt of thick banded and scrolled work was buckled about her waist. She carried on it a sheathed dagger, coil of leather, coil of rope, a simply but sturdily made flail-stick of leather and wood, and a pouch for coins, herbs, and other small things.
To the south of RhyDin, on the island The GrevShar people call Shatra, it was the time of year for The Running. The Running, an annual event has been held without fail for over fifteen hundred years and one from each of the families are expected and indebted to participate.
There were hundreds of GrevShar families known to exist after the Hukszaen, a great war among the people that sent them to all area of RhyDin's glob ? and further beyond that. By the lore keeper, Taveress, there were precisely seven seventeen clans that had splintered from the Great Family that day so long ago.
And it looked like most of them were already on Shatra when TeRa Vash arrived. She was the Legacy-Bearer of The Vash people. Only by birth and only since she was the only child that her mother and father had born into the world was it that she came to be the bearer.
She stepped off of her sola-sail skimmer that she had sailed in on from the extreme, north-eastern reaches of RhyDin. The ship was not a large one, but it was hers. Its lithe craftsmanship was slender and long with room enough to two grown people comfortably beneath its deck. A tall, pike of a mast was little more than a needle against the sea and horizon.
The sails that took the heat and light of the sun and not the wind alone to power it were down and fasted to its cross crosspoles securely.
TeRa had said many times that she thought that The Running was a waste of time and that is was an event full of traditions and ways of a bygone era. But secretly, she enjoyed it. It wasn't for the bickering and blades being drawn with the thread of bloodshed. It certainly wasn't to meet babies and wives and husbands brought to introduce these next generations to everyone.
She stood on the stone pier and tied the solar sail skimmer to a thick, iron loop at its end. TeRa was dressed more like a GavShar male than one of the women. She wore a leather vest over a shirt with long sleeves that billowed and several, thin, layered collars of cloth about the neck.
The ties on both the shirt and vest were undone to a few inches below her neckline. Leather britches were tucked into knee high boots and a belt of thick banded and scrolled work was buckled about her waist. She carried on it a sheathed dagger, coil of leather, coil of rope, a simply but sturdily made flail-stick of leather and wood, and a pouch for coins, herbs, and other small things.