Post by Ser Mehran S'Disraeli on Jun 30, 2008 10:27:22 GMT -5
Mehran sat in her covered wagon among her silks and fine cloths, brooding over her current situation. The arguments had ceased for however brief a time, and her headache had intensified. And to top off the entire thing, she was headed for a land far from her home. She'd been called off to battle, and while she would not likely swing a sword herself, there was much information to be traded at such a large gathering.
Usually, such a happening would incite excitement in her--Spidering was her trade, after all, after assassinating. And with well-known names such as Graymael, Dominus, and Squck there, there was bound to be some sort of good knowledge floating around. She loved nothing more than to sell information for wares, and better, she was good at it. Her immense wealth located in Suncera City was clear evidence of that.
She thought about her remaining people. Senon was to be guarding the rear wagon, ready to give the call if they were being followed. No doubt he was moping and whining the entire trip. Mehran felt sorry for the driver of that wagon. Pyra, now having been wished free, was wandering the fields. She'd been flighty lately, but Mehran had chalked it up to discovering new freedoms. Taka would be out and about the lands, searching for the keys to her past, located with a man named Puppet. What kind of name that was, Mehran didn't know. Puppets, to the Mistress, were to be toyed with, used, and thrown out once the strings snapped. Perhaps that was the statement he chose to make about himself; Mehran didn't know, didn't understand, and didn't care. Ugg would be at the Court of Miracles, holding fast to the theme: the dead don't talk, so anyone who discovered the encampment wouldn't be around to reveal what they'd found. Mehran shuddered; the ogre had a mean streak a mile long, and any deaths completed by his hand were messy, at best. She'd long wondered what hole in the ground Senon had found the beast in, but had never asked. Even the Mistress of Murderers knew better than to poke the bear.
The mental checklist of followers complete, she set her thoughts to the road ahead. On a path directly parallel to her own, the Myrkridian Infantry forged ahead, keeping both parties safe. Privately, she laughed; it was as though the Khan was being escorted by the Royal Guard. In reality, it was nothing of the sort. They didn't know she was there, and she only used them as decoys to keep any hounds off her path. A marriage of convenience, really.
Her ran her fingers through her magically darkened hair. As much as she didn't want to see it, the locks that were once copper-red, were now cherry-crimson, and black streaks began tracing their ways down to the tips. She kept it out of her mind. She had many talents and skills, but her best, by far, was the ability to ignore even the most blatant and obvious facts. And she did so now, if for nothing more than it frightened her to think about. At the barest, it was a physical manifestation of an intangible problem that she loathed and detested. And it scared her to think that she could change that much.
She decided to put it from her mind and concentrate on traveling. Jumping out of the back of the ambling wagon, she ran a checkthrough of the other through. She had brought enough to survive a lifetime, it seemed, but needingly so. Not since she had become the Khan had she ever felt the need to travel lightly, unless she was on a recruitment mission. She gave merely a cursory glance to the rear wagon, and sure enough, Senon was on it, threatening the driver to move faster. The old man laughed, of course. The dark haired young man snarled and disappeared into the wagon, and Mehran shook her head, wondering when he would fully bond to her and the unit. With all her losses as of late, it seemed only a matter of time before he left too. The thought temporarily saddened her, but she also rejected it. That thought, especially, began the arguments, and the last thing she wanted was to wake the demon.
She ran and jumped back into the back of her own wagon. They would be arriving shortly, she believed, and then the true fun would begin. She'd survived most of a day without an argument with the voice, and she felt that to keep it that way, she had better read a scroll. She did so.
((This is now open for everyone to respond to! Please feel free.))
Usually, such a happening would incite excitement in her--Spidering was her trade, after all, after assassinating. And with well-known names such as Graymael, Dominus, and Squck there, there was bound to be some sort of good knowledge floating around. She loved nothing more than to sell information for wares, and better, she was good at it. Her immense wealth located in Suncera City was clear evidence of that.
She thought about her remaining people. Senon was to be guarding the rear wagon, ready to give the call if they were being followed. No doubt he was moping and whining the entire trip. Mehran felt sorry for the driver of that wagon. Pyra, now having been wished free, was wandering the fields. She'd been flighty lately, but Mehran had chalked it up to discovering new freedoms. Taka would be out and about the lands, searching for the keys to her past, located with a man named Puppet. What kind of name that was, Mehran didn't know. Puppets, to the Mistress, were to be toyed with, used, and thrown out once the strings snapped. Perhaps that was the statement he chose to make about himself; Mehran didn't know, didn't understand, and didn't care. Ugg would be at the Court of Miracles, holding fast to the theme: the dead don't talk, so anyone who discovered the encampment wouldn't be around to reveal what they'd found. Mehran shuddered; the ogre had a mean streak a mile long, and any deaths completed by his hand were messy, at best. She'd long wondered what hole in the ground Senon had found the beast in, but had never asked. Even the Mistress of Murderers knew better than to poke the bear.
The mental checklist of followers complete, she set her thoughts to the road ahead. On a path directly parallel to her own, the Myrkridian Infantry forged ahead, keeping both parties safe. Privately, she laughed; it was as though the Khan was being escorted by the Royal Guard. In reality, it was nothing of the sort. They didn't know she was there, and she only used them as decoys to keep any hounds off her path. A marriage of convenience, really.
Her ran her fingers through her magically darkened hair. As much as she didn't want to see it, the locks that were once copper-red, were now cherry-crimson, and black streaks began tracing their ways down to the tips. She kept it out of her mind. She had many talents and skills, but her best, by far, was the ability to ignore even the most blatant and obvious facts. And she did so now, if for nothing more than it frightened her to think about. At the barest, it was a physical manifestation of an intangible problem that she loathed and detested. And it scared her to think that she could change that much.
She decided to put it from her mind and concentrate on traveling. Jumping out of the back of the ambling wagon, she ran a checkthrough of the other through. She had brought enough to survive a lifetime, it seemed, but needingly so. Not since she had become the Khan had she ever felt the need to travel lightly, unless she was on a recruitment mission. She gave merely a cursory glance to the rear wagon, and sure enough, Senon was on it, threatening the driver to move faster. The old man laughed, of course. The dark haired young man snarled and disappeared into the wagon, and Mehran shook her head, wondering when he would fully bond to her and the unit. With all her losses as of late, it seemed only a matter of time before he left too. The thought temporarily saddened her, but she also rejected it. That thought, especially, began the arguments, and the last thing she wanted was to wake the demon.
She ran and jumped back into the back of her own wagon. They would be arriving shortly, she believed, and then the true fun would begin. She'd survived most of a day without an argument with the voice, and she felt that to keep it that way, she had better read a scroll. She did so.
((This is now open for everyone to respond to! Please feel free.))