|Caught with his Pants Down|
|Summary:||While scouting east of the Roost for bandit evidence, Justin comes across a naked Wesly communing with the Seven.|
|Related Logs:||Concerns Old and New, also Bandits in Terrick lands, Planning a Hunt, Part 1, Planning a Hunt, Part 2, Planning a Hunt, Part 3, Planning a Hunt, Part 4|
|Worn Road - Terrick's Roost (somewhere in the woodlands off the road)|
|May 1st, 289|
Worn Road, Terrick's Roost (somewhere in the woods)
Tue May 01, 289 (Page: 286) — Tue May 01 18:52:21 2012
Let's say it's afternoon, the warm summer sun slanting down through the trees and while the road is not far from this point, the land is gently hilly as it curves down to where a creek wends its way through. Trees of various kinds stand tall, green leaves flickering in the breeze. There is a man here, alone with a grey horse that is saddled but not mounted. The man is dressed in rough greens and browns, leather jerkin with long bow in hand and a quiver of arrows angled over his back. Justin is seated on the bank of the mostly dry creekbed, pale grey eyes watchful as he listens to the sounds of the forest around him and waits for his traveling companion who has not yet returned to meet back up with him.
The sound of the forest seems to include the voice of a teenager. It's not coming from very far away. In a clearing just beyond the creek, stands Wesly. His clothing, the clothing of a squire in Terrick colors, is folded neatly in a pile near a horse and a few satchels. Wesly is completely naked, and given the tan covering his entire body, it's not an unfamiliar state. He's rather muscular for his young age, and a large, ornate candle is sitting in the center of a circle of rocks, lit. Wesly is standing over the candle, talking. "He said he would take me if no one else wood. I suppose… I suppose that's the kind of answer I should be expecting. I'm not exactly an understood person," and he chuckles.
<FS3> Justin rolls Stealth: Good Success.
The sound of the voice brings the grey gelding's head up. It mustn't be very close else Justin should have noticed, and he may not be able to even hear it but something has drawn his horse's attention, ears pricked. Justin moves to stand, watching his horse closely and listening. His long bow in hand, it is already strung and he starts to move carefully along the creek in the direction his horse has taken an interest, but he leaves the grey tied to the tree. Justin moves slowly, cautiously and as quietly as he looks for the source of the noise. As he draws nearer, he can hear the voice, pausing to listen before he can actually see Wesly. Then he creeps forward a bit closer yet before hunkering down to watch, bow in hand but without an arrow as yet.
Wesly continues to have his conversation. With no one, it seems. He walks around the candle, to a large oak tree, and leans against it. He picks a bit of dirt from under his fingernails, "Ser Merrick must be rolling in his afterlife. He'd find this funny, you know," and he glances at the tree, as if that's who he's talking to. "He didn't believe it." He sighs, "Bet he does now." And he begins to walk back to the candle.
Justin keeps his place, hardly older than Wesly though his face is perhaps more serious and making him look a few years older than he actually is yet. Patient, he observes the other but as he is out here for a reason, he is also in no haste to show himself. A slow turn of his head to listen back in the direction he left his horse, but all remains quiet that way. Justin's gaze comes back to Wesly, studies his horse, then draws an arrow from his quiver to lay it over his bow and nock it. He slowly stands from the concealing brush and steps out, saying nothing and keeping the bow held low with the arrow angled towards the ground, "What are you doing?" His baritone asks.
Wesly spins around, his eyes a bit wide with surprise. "I'm…" He licks his lips, tilts his head a bit, and then just scowls, "Who are you? What are you doing here?" As if he owns the forest. He doesn't seem at all bothered that he's standing there naked.
The armed stranger isn't bothered the least that Wesly's naked and has no weapons to hand either. Justin only stands there, wary of eye and holding the bow ready to use it, though not currently threatening. "I'd suggest you answer my question." He looks like a man who'd put an arrow through you if you gave him reason to do so. Justin takes a few easy side steps to bring himself around somewhat more between Wesly and his piled things if the other isn't too close to them already.
Wesly chews his lip a moment, and then offer, "Fine. I'm communing with my gods." He folds his arms over his chest, defiantly.
Well, that seems an honest enough answer and was what he would have guessed. Standing quiet, Justin studies the other and then reaches out with the lower tip of his bow to partly unfold Wesly's piled things to glance over them, "House Terrick colors. Who are you?" There could be a twist of his mouth, once more holding his bow at ease but the arrow still ready, "Do you always pray without your clothes on?" A sword also hangs from his left hip, the hilt and pommel plain and wrapped with thin brown leather.
Wesly looks at his things, then back at Justin. "Wesly. Wesly Parala. I was squire to Ser Talon Merrick. He died on the Iron Islands." He unfolds his arms, "The earth between my toes helps me to commune." He watches Justin closely, "So… Who are you?"
The names are perhaps not familiar to him for he thins his mouth into something of a frown. "My condolences for your loss." Justin makes no offer to let Wesly /have/ his clothes back as yet. "Who I am is not important just now. You do know a man traveling alone out here is an easy mark, don't you? A man who willingly disarms himself begs ill favour to befall him. Why should I believe such a foolish story?" Justin's eyes narrow, the fingers of his right hand shifting upon the nocked arrow upon the bow string.
Wesly shrugs, "Believe it because I'm standing before you defenseless and naked. Trust me. I could make up a WAY better story than the truth, if I wanted to lie."
Justin does not look impressed, his eyes half lidded. Probably this one is touched in the head - that's the expression his face might carry faintly. "Then I suggest you remedy that, Squire." As for himself, the archer glances over his shoulder, then steps back cautiously, once, twice, three steps, backing off to meld back into the brush and trees. Justin keeps a sharp eye on this one, wary of noises that might be other folk about as he moves to depart. Wesly can make an attempt to come after him but if not, in a matter of moments Justin has turned and starts to jog off with an easy, ground eating pace through the trees - back to his own horse and be away before he might be pursued himself. Likely though, Wesly will want his clothes on, first.
Wesly sighs, his shoulders slumping just a little. He glances at the tree, "It's not funny." He rolls his eyes, and then begins to get dressed.