This story has been made significantly better by the tireless efforts and editing of IMcRout.
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Marcos Panthi had a problem, not a serious or immediate crisis, but a definite situation in need of some kind of reconsideration.
He was a knight in foreign lands well to the west of his home territory.
He was dark haired with short curls and deep dark pools of eyes, many people never noticed there were no whites to them at all. His weathered skin gave him the appearance of being from the southern area of the Menthino. Tall and muscular he had a gangly look about him, but moved with the fluid grace of a long time ranger.
He didn't appear to be a knight, his armor was beyond 'minimal' consisting of single hand sized plates sewn into soft, near skintight Safi leather that covered his upper and lower arms and legs, as well as half cut pieces for the top of his hands and feet. The leather was dyed black covering his entire body below the eyes and matched with only slightly stiffer leather boots split at the toe.
Over this was a sleeveless hooded black robe whose openings on the sides extended to the bottom just above the knees. Most people outside of Menthino would think him an assassin by his garb, but assassins cover themselves with normal clothes to blend in. The clothes and armor were actually the all black of the Menthino light Infantry. Most knights and officers in the light infantry usually at the very least wore Calvary armor for protection but Marcos was unique and understood better than most the spirit of light Infantry.
If Marcos had had foresight, he would have opted for a light grey robe instead of black. If he went any further north into the mountainous highlands even now in the heat of summer there would be enough snow to make hiding very difficult.
Nevertheless, it wasn't time to worry about that, at the moment he was tracking prey or to be precise a band of 'Amazons' who he was paid to kill or drive off. He didn't know how many, but about half a dozen is what the tracks and his senses told him. He had been forced to move in the early morning hours to track the elusive band, since they moved in the very dead of night.
Now with the sun just about to come up he was brought up short. Just over the ridge he was nearly atop was the bands campsite that as yet he hadn't seen before. A finger jutted off the ridgeline for a short quarter mile stretch. It was almost unnaturally flat and completely snow free. It was large enough for hundreds to fit upon and was covered in various sized rocks with bald patches showing obvious frequent use.
At the moment a single barbarian woman was there idly sitting with a fire dug into the ground letting her smoke rise, obviously she was confident. However, that was also the problem, the rest of the group was gone, and Marcos could only be fairly sure they weren't already behind him.
Marcos had been following this group for about two days from a requested favor by the independent city-state of Osmuun. The city sat near the western border of Menthino in the south and its only claim to fame was a decent working river dock deep and safe enough for ocean trade. He caught up to them three days north of the city in dense woods where hamlets and villages quietly farmed the summer harvest. The band had left these populated areas for the northeastern mountainous corridor yesterday. If they continued, Marcos would be tracking over a glacier and steep-walled valleys in these highlands until they came out of the mountains to the river valley of the fertile Ort, the wide fast boundary river between Astrokos and Menthino.
If this woman was any indication then this band must be confident, and unaware of him, to be hunting for food before entering these dangerous wilds.