"And what of that one?!", the drunken teamster lets out a guffaw as he points to a hooded figure in a sun faded silver cloak, black armor poking out from underneath. "The warrior? *shrugs* found him on the road not too far from Nes'ek, a trail of dead bandits behind him.", said the Bedine caravan leader before taking a large swig from the shared earthen ware bottle before wiping his bearded face and continuing, "by the time I found him though seemed the sun got the better of him, was nearly crawling he was, carrion birds already circling." "Huh... should have left them there. It's bad luck to steal away the vulture's share... especially when its one so stupid as to -walk- these wilds" the teamster snapped the reins then grabbed the bottle out of his friend's hands for another chug. "Perhaps... but he took on an entire tribe of bandits, and with what we are running these days I could not let the opportunity pass." "So what then, he just jumped up from the sands and joined you?" "Ha... no when I tried to help him up he damned near broke my hand with his grip, but he whispered one word..." "Eh?" "Hasrabet he managed to spit out... his hood falling back as he stood, only to reveal a helmet underneath." "Sounds fishy." "Hmmph... birds of a feather then my friend. With what we carry we must make friends where we can. Plus he only asked that he take the night patrols and he'd pay -me- upon arrival." "Ha!" "A good deal indeed." "We shall see..." the horses neighed at another snap of the reins.
The hooded figure looked up a moment, his sharp hearing picking up parts of the conversation, before returning to his own thoughts under the desert moon. Walking in step with the caravan he protects he finds it quiet, most now sleeping or reveling in such a late hour. Taking the moment of peace, he reaches into his pack, taking out a small patch with an embroidered insignia upon it. For several paces he stares at it, its beautiful silver and black filigree wrapping around itself in the most elegant fashion. He stops for a brief moment and exhales, letting the wind blow the cloth from his grasp. Pulling his hood tight again, he resumes his march.