Lavanya Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ He seemed to find her request for a promissory note to be tedious. Lavanya, who was from a country with little corruption, and who'd had little interaction with politicians at all, could not understand why this would be so. As the man was a priest, politician and desert scum besides, she was unlikely to be sympathetic to whatever problems his hiring her might create for him. "How you justify your actions are your own concern." She told him after he mentioned when they wanted to leave. "I will return at the graying two days hence." It did not occur to her that the graying was a Pohoni concept of time, one Lark might not share. "You will provide the agreed upon compensation, in full, in the form of a promissory note or letter or exchange, or I will consider our employment contract terminated." Lavanya, on principle, never carried sums larger than 5 full gold marks. She came to a sort of attention, back straighter than normal, heels together. Her hand moved to rest on the hilt of her broad sword as she gave a small, stiff backed bow, her heading going only a few inches lower than normal. "Good day to you." She turned sharply and headed toward the door, having touched neither his gold nor his wine. Two days was a long time to wait for a job to begin, but she could find ample to do. If nothing else, she could devote time and effort to calming her temper and preparing to spend time with a man like Lark. Or she could choose to prepare for a journey that was sure to end in death. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of life.
Talahari Den Kinodoko The Lone Watcher "Never think you are alone. The trees have ears, the birds have eyes, and I have both to heed and record your words." Talahari wandered aimlessly between buildings, slipping into a bar here, or a marketstand there, looking for any trace of where the boy may have left a trail. Her mercenary garb had been changed to that of a servant of a high-ranking official, and her skin was dyed a light tan. A dark bruise swelled beneath one eye for good effect, as she skittered fearfully away from anyone who dared approach. Eventually, when she was beginning to tire and was frustrated beyond reason, she decided to take a break. I will not find anything if I keep rushing around like this . . . now where would the son of a nobleman go? Leaning against a wall, moonlight illuminating her face, she sighed. They're never very predictable . . . but Hui is the son of a nobleman -high ranking. Only high ranking offficials can do certain things and are seen in certain places . . . so if he is young and a nobleman he would be either at his estate or another place. Talahari nodded slightly to herself, deciding then that she would go find this boy's home and start asking questions there. Turning and slipping away like a ghost, she padded over the cobblestone road in her soft-soled slippers, keeping to the deepest shadows to avoid drawing attention to herself. After several inquiries of the few guards who remained at their posts around the more wealthy's warehouses, Talahari not only learned where Hui lived, but that there had been a fire recently. "Foolish man, hiring a witch. You can't trust them ya know -tricky, volatile women." the guard grumbled, waving towards the blackened walls of a warehouse several houses down, "Well, it's his problem, not mine." Talahari nodded timidly -still playing the part of a servant delivering a message- and headed in the direction of the mansion that the guard had told her stood on the other end of the city. The moon had begun to set when she arrived at the Shariah estate, the dark indgo sky beginning to be tinted with a faint pinkish glow in the east. Eying the gates, she considered the risks of being caught as an intruder. No, better to wait. My clients always know that they need patience when I work. It's the only way they can get what they want. she thought, heading back down the road towards an inn. She needed a change of clothing -a change of identity- before anyone started asking questions.
Maron Barosh ~The Marauding Berserker~ "Let the Queens of the Sun gaze down in sorrow as I drown their lands in blood!" “You are right. I cannot turn time backwards, nor hold it in a perfect, eternal moment. But a dragon can.” “Hmmph, you speak of Elatrix as if she is a tempered, peaceful being.” Maron snorted. The notion of the great mother herself as anything but a hideous, bloodthirsty and malevolent beast was absurd. Tales of her generous powers had reached the plains, but dragons were just that. Dragons. And then Maron began to laugh. At first it was a low rumble, a breathy chuckle. But before long the booming joy blasted through the bars, aimed at Hui’s face. Maron even tried to point at the noble to mock him, but the chains reeled in. “Power? Devious and great? Pah! See how your fragile skull and scroll fare against the might of Elatrix, dwarf.” The laughter stopped abruptly, but it’s eerie echo bounced down the halls. The cold glare accompanied a spit, landing dryly on the cheek of the noble. “I will accompany you, little one, but remember this. You needed me. Me. The brute.” He stepped away from the door, allowing his words to sink in. “And though my honour may not mean much to you, I will fulfill my call until dead or done. But try your devious tricks on me... and I will take pleasure in splitting you in half.”
Maghatch CrookmouthMy greatest confidante in this world is a chicken. Shoot me now. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Maghatch chuckled as the minstrel began singing again of the wish-granting dragon. "Your rhymes are very entertaining", Maghatch said, grinning happily. "They remind me of nursery rhymes. Do you know the one about the Cat and the Fiddle? I think that one was a metaphor for the declining morals of the human race as a whole. Or maybe you've heard of the one with the Golden Goose?" Greta clucked grumpily. "Oh, sorry", Mags said quickly. To Cassius, she stage whispered, "She gets a little jealous, teehee!" The dark mage winked playfully at Cassius and took a moment to soothe her embittered pet. "Now, as for signing up for this little quest", Maghatch said, absently smoothing her shiny dark hair, "I think I'll wait here with you. I'm not in any particular rush and I'd like to meet your noble friend. Then after I'll go pack some provisions--a hair brush, some chicken feed, some bricks of tea stuff..." Mags got lost in her thoughts for a moment and only snapped out of it when Greta clucked irritably. "So, I guess I'll sit here." With the ease of a seasoned dancer, Mags took a seat next to the minstrel and proceded to play some sort of game with a pack of Tarot cards in her lap. From time to time she would flip a card, giggle at something, and keep going. Maghatch was used to waiting for nobles having worked for so many, she had worked out ways to keep herself entertained.
Saif-Al-Rahmen Hui Shariah Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Maron laughed at him. The nobleman might have been more likely to let the joking pass unremarked had the laughter not been closely followed by a comment about Hui's height, and a spit. Hui wiped off his face, grimacing. This was what he got for consorting with barbarians. At least the giant agreed to accompany him, something Hui had began to doubt was ever going to happen. Now he had a warrior to protect him and Cassius, and whatever other adventurers the minstrel picked up. Hui was about to launch into a rather scathing renunciation of Maron when the guard and his captain came around the corner. "Ah, excellent. Release this man." Hui said before the captain could speak. "Sir, this...I -" "The order is quite clear. He is pardoned for all crimes. Release him." It was always useful, Hui had found, to have the Lord Magistrate owe one a favor. "Yes, sir." The captain said reluctantly. As he moved to unlock Maron's cage, Hui tossed the Plainsmen a single silver coin. "It may interest you to know that your honor is why I need you." It was engraved with the Shariah family emblem; not only would it allow Maron to find Hui's townhouse, which had the symbol above its gates and periodically around the wall, but it would also guarantee access to that house for Maron. "Gather your things and meet me there tomorrow." Hui said as the captain and guard walked into the cell, still moving cautiously, to unlock the shackles. Hui didn't wait around, however, he just walked off down the hallway. He had a carriage waiting out back, and one more late night errand to run. * * * Early the next morning Hui left his house again, without waiting for Maron to show up. The Plainsmen would either be waiting at the townhouse when Hui returned, or he would go off with his freedom. Hui would just have to gamble on the former. Around noon, after several hours of work, Hui headed toward the main square of the city. Cassius was supposed to be there attempting to recruit more prospective adventurers. While Hui believed a small group had a better chance than a large one, he did like the idea of having a few more people, preferably skilled people, than himself and his minstrel friend. He told his driver to drop him off at the edge of the square, as he wanted to walk a bit. He was just stepping out of the carriage when Cassius's words floated over. "A quest, a quest to the dragon's lair. / A man, a dwarf, and a woman fair..." Hui grimaced. He was not a dwarf! He was only a few inches shorter than average, that wasn't a big deal! Why did everyone take such pleasure in pointing it out, again and again? When the noble got closer to his friend, his frown faded slightly. Payback only worked if Cassius didn't see the effect of his friendly ribbing. "Cassius, who is this?" Hui called as he stepped up. A rather stunning woman was standing next to the minstrel, and Hui did not recognize her. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.First quote by Salvadori Dali. Second quote by Margaret Mead
Cassius Strahan ~The Traveling Minstrel~ "Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent." "Cassius, who is this?" Hui called as he stepped up. Cassius looked up from his strumming. "Ah, Hui. This is none other than the great witch Maghatch Crookmouth. And her, uh...chicken." He added with a smile. "Maghatch this is Hui. The noble I spoke to you about." After Cassius finished making the introductions he asked, "So did you manage to recruit that big fella? I see you still have all your limbs so that must be a good sign."
Talahari Den Kinodoko The Lone Watcher "Never think you are alone. The trees have ears, birds have eyes, and I have both to heed and record your words." Talahari came out of an inn, pulling the last piece of her latest disguise into place. Ebony hair flowed down to the small of her back, and pale make-up along with an eyebrow clipping had done a lot to make her unrecognizable from her original appearance. A tight-fitting hard leather bodice was clasped to her torso, and metal and glass clinked just faintly as she moved -the belts strapped to her leggings holding an array of bottles, glass orbs, and obsidian throwing knives. If she was careful enough with her strikes, her opponents wouldn't even bleed but still receive the type of poison on the blade's tip. The dose would be very light though -so she had had to make her poisons in their purest form for the knives in order to make them effective. Tucking a cloak and hood over the ensemble, Talahari adjusted her gloves and made her way through the crowded street towards the Shariah mansion. Her current disguise would be risky to use during the day, but if she could manage to get into one of the gardens around the front of the place she could easily hide among the leaves of a tree or bush. She just had to get over the wall... As soon as her goal was in sight, she turned and walked sideways along the pale stone walls, seeking a place that no one would be around to see her climb over. Her movements were smooth and precise, and her dark eyes flicked behind and around her to make sure she wasn't being tailed every few seconds. It wouldn't do to have another spy keeping an eye on her if her current charge didn't trust her enough to get the job done. Tch, silver may be heavy for my regular payments, but i could easily gain some gold if i play my cards right. she thought, a thin smile quirking her lips.
Maghatch CrookmouthMy greatest confidante in this world is a chicken. Shoot me now. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Maghatch put away her Tarot cards when the noble, Hui, arrived. She stood gracefully and bobbed her head to acknowledge his noble-born status. She slyly looked him up and down, getting a measure of him. He was a short fellow, but he also had a keen look in his eyes. Maghatch found him fairly attractive, as well. "I am Maghatch Crookmouth, at your service", she said smoothly. "I have heard of the quest you wish to embark on. I am intrigued." Greta clucked. "As is my chicken", the dark mage added. "I don't know how you planned to make it that far into a dragon's lair without the help of a great mage such as myself, but providence--it seems--has sent me. As it were, I could use a magical wish or two." Maghatch waved a pale hand flippantly, even though on the inside she was burning to get a wish from the dragon. "I will tag along, just tell me when we're leaving and I'll be there in a whirlwind." Maghatch held out her hand to the noble to shake it. Her nails were painted matte black with tiny white skulls in the middle. "To the ends of the earth", she joked, grinning. For a second, her dark violet eyes seemed to shine with inner light, but then they were back to normal.
Maron Barosh ~The Marauding Berserker~ "Let the Queens of the Sun gaze down in sorrow as I drown their lands in blood!" The mountain that was Maron marched proudly down the clay streets of Logoth, fully embracing his newly acquired freedom. The barbarian stood out like a dragon in a farmyard, towering over frightened patrons; his dull, dirt covered armour to their shiny, bright cloth and jewelry. The public gave him a wide berth for obvious reasons, not to mention the putrid smell of a pig sty. And the hulking steel forged axe resting delicately on his shoulder. Izabella was her name, and for those that knew their weapons, she was a sight to behold. The steel glistened silver in the Sun’s gaze, and on the metal there was a detailed engraving of two dragons entwined in war. The thick wooden shaft was crafted immaculately, carved into a beautiful woman, almost life size, with emeralds in place of her eyes. That was what the peons really feared, but their children adored it. Many would run close to take a peek, and the giant would simply smile, before their mothers and fathers snatched them back. Maron had been lost for a while along Logoth’s winding roads. Each street looked the same, with rows of thatched housing blocking his view. But then he saw it. At the end of one particular road stood a varnished pine wood gate, latched upon a sleek marble arch, with the Shariah family emblem engraved. Maron gave one thundering knock and almost immediately a lavishly dressed man appeared. His mood had been one of annoyance, before seeing the behemoth rising above him. “Err... I...” He spluttered, already flinching and fearing the end. Maron laid the coin in his hand without a word, and proceeded through the door.
Talahari Den Kinodoko The Lone Watcher "Never think you are alone. The trees have ears, birds have eyes, and I have both to heed and record your words." Talahari's eyes narrowed as she spotted a servant's entrance along one end of the wall, and her mouth quirked with amusement, You'd think a nobleman would be more secure with his estate. Pulling her hood more fully over her head, Talahari ducked away behind a tree as a servant came out and ran down the street on an errand, but had left the gate ajar. Likely they would be back in a few minutes, so now was her chance. Talahari slipped inside, crossed a small stretch of lawn and into the side door of what had to be the kitchens. The smells of rich food and wine made her mouth water for a moment, but she focused on her objective. Getting information on Hui. Opening several cabinets before closing them softly again, Talahari searched until she had gathered together a house-servant's uniform, and slipped into that before entering the main house. Tucking a few bottles into one pocket, the woman passed unnoticed by the others as they went about their work. Now to find the boy's rooms . . . She nearly jumped out of her skin when a man stepped into her path just as she was about to turn a corner, and his sad, glazed eyes barely even acknowledged her before the man had passed. "E-excuse me, but could you tell me where master Hui's rooms are?" she inquired another servant as she adjusted a vase of flowers in the hall, "I'm new here and I don't quite have everything mapped out in my head yet, and he ordered me to clean it." "Ah -well its a few doors down and to the right." the maid replied helpfully, pointing in the general direction she had told Talahari to go, "You can't miss it." "Thank you." Talahari turned and jogged down the hall as if she was in a hurry, but slowed and moved with more caution as she came to the door. Well, there's no time like the present. she thought, turning the knob and opening the door.
Crispin Kabryalson "The goal of all life is death" -Sigmund Freud ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Tick. Tick. Tick. The drumming came in pulses, swelling up then softening momentarily, only to swell again. Every tick sounded through his skull, each one sounding different, almost as if forming words, sentences. Crispin's cold eyes opened, revealing to him the irritated face of the innkeeper, hovering dangerously near his own. "Sir, you've been sitting here for HOURS. Unless you're going to buy something, you're going to have to leave!" Crispin pointed towards the now-dry soup bowl in front of him and closed his eyes again. "You bought that THIS MORNING, sir. So, unless you're going to buy something NEW, get the h-" Tick. Tick. Tick. This is tiresome. Abruptly, Crispin stood, sending both chair and innkeeper crashing to the floor. Pressing a coin against the innkeeper's cheek, Crispin spoke. "Another bowl of chicken broth." He suddenly brought his face to the floored innkeeper's, the darkness in his eyes threatening to consume his very being. "Satisfied?" Without waiting for an answer, Crispin picked up his chair and retook his seat, sealing his eyelids once more. Tock.
Lavanya Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ There were places in Sanatis where mercenaries congregated. Outside the gates one could see tents and small enclosures, the companies set up camp and waited for skirmishes between nation states or the Plainsmen tribes. In the market place, of course, there were the hiring tents; those were the first place any employer went looking. Elsewhere in the city, closer to the gates but out of sight, were a few taverns and inns that almost catered to the rough clientele. There were other taverns that Lavanya, and the single mercenaries who had slightly higher standards, preferred to patronize. After her meeting with Balefore Lark, Lavanya went to one such tavern. The stable boy there had cared for Meandar on and off for over six months; there was no tinge of worry as she handed the horse over. As she walked through the doors, Lavanya scanned the dim interior. There were several mercenaries she mentioned; however, she was only looking for one. Fate was with her, it seemed, as he was occupying a table on his own. Without consideration to his possible desire for privacy, something she was normally very careful to respect, Lavanya went over and joined him. At first, she said nothing. The innkeeper was heading back this way, and she saw no reason to start a conversation that should not be overheard. As she waited, she studied the other mercenary. They had crossed paths, professional, several times over the years. Despite his normal enigmatic nature, during that time Lavanya had managed to learn one interesting fact about Crispin Kabryalson; a fact which made him vital to her new mission. After the innkeeper had come, and gone, and come again, this time with Lavanya's order of cider, a child's drink in Sanatis, but all she was allowed, the female mercenary spoke. "Do you know the path to pass through Dom Eminith, and come out on the other side alive?" She spoke her native dialect, which was different enough from the common tongue to be difficult to decipher. It was also one she strongly suspected he understood; how could he not, considering where he came from? +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of life.
Saif-Al-Rahmen Hui Shariah Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Unsatisfied with Cassius's flippant introduction, Hui derided to provide one of his own. "I am Saif-Al-Rahmen Hui Shariah, heir to the March Shai'ia." As usual, it came out sounded a bit arrogant, but it was the only way he knew how to speak. If there was one thing Hui was truly proud of, it was his birthright. A Marquis Shariah had held dominion over Shai'ia for centuries; and during most of that time, the Marquis had served as an important adviser to the king, and then the Emperor. Hui meant to restore his family to that place of power. Hui watched the mage as she introduced herself. Maghatch Crookmouth; the name sounded vaguely familiar. His expression remained respectfully attentive, but non committal, as she spoke. So, she wanted to join their expedition, did she? How very interesting. Perhaps he should have considered approaching a few magic users with his idea, rather than relying on nobles and scholars for support. "You understand that there is no compensation involved? When we find Elatrix, whatever she does or does not grant you is her concern. I make no promises of a reward." The last thing Hui wanted was someone demanding payment from him, or accusing him of lying if the dragon did not, as the legend claimed, grant boons. This said, Hui turned to his friend. "If you must know, why don't you go back to my estate with me? We can find out together." He looked over at Maghatch in after thought. "You are invited as well, of course. If you do not wish to come, you may meet us outside the Shariah family town house first thing in the morning, so that we may be on our way." He pulled out another silver passage coin, and flicked it too her. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.First quote by Salvadori Dali. Second quote by Margaret Mead
Crispin Kabryalson "The goal of all life is death" -Sigmund Freud ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "Do you know the path to pass through Dom Eminith, and come out on the other side alive?" Crispin looked up from the soup which he'd been intently probing with his spoon and raised an eyebrow at the unwelcomed guest. Deep inside he was surprised to hear a tongue he hadn't heard in more than a decade, but his face showed no emotion. "Dom Eminith is traversed only by fools and maniacs, Pohoni." Crispin refocused his attention on his soup, which he now stirred carefully. After thoroughly preparing the soup for consumption, he put his spoon down. "Why do you seek such knowledge?"
Lavanya Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Neither was forthcoming about their past, and yet both knew some about the other. Crispin's reply proved that. Then again, it was not hard to deduce that Lavanya was a Pohoni; she practically screamed it with her accent alone; add in her mannerisms and it was indisputable. "A foolish desert rat has hired me to take him to the dragon." There was only ever one dragon that people talked about these days, especially those from the north. "He offered enough to free me from this," She waved disdainfully around the tavern. Just as her home land was not exactly a secret, Lavanya made no attempt to conceal her hatred of the life she led. Her honor was often at odds with the life of a mercenary, but it was the only life that she could lead. Unless, that is, she had enough money to buy a home. "If am I heading toward certain death," And there was little doubt in her mind that was how the trip would end, "I want to at least survive to meet it." Death in Sindori, Lavanya could face. Death on the journey, before reaching their destination, was nothing short of failure. There was no honor in failure. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of life.
Crispin Kabryalson "The goal of all life is death" -Sigmund Freud ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Crispin sat forward. Doing jobs for money was a stupid, disgusting thing but seeking money to escape the need was another thing. Crispin remembered her: one of the few mercenaries he'd ever worked with that had the faintest sense of honor. A quest to regain honor. Perhaps one finally worth supporting. "The dragon? Quite the fool indeed." He chuckled and drained his soup, though he regretted the action a few moments later as the hot liquid scorched its way down his throat. "A fool and a maniac going on a journey through Dom Eminith." Crispin leaned towards the mercenary, scrutinizing her. He'd never seen her as far as he could remember, but there was certainly something about her that seemed... familiar. "So where does that leave you?"
Maghatch CrookmouthMy greatest confidante in this world is a chicken. Shoot me now. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ When Hui invited Maghatch to his estate she wasn't sure, and then he flicked a coin at her. Instead of catching the coin, she waved her hand and a dozen buzzing black dots appeared in mid-air around the coin. The black dots congealed and formed into a black bird with pure-white wings, the silver coin clasped in it's tiny clawed feet. As the bird hovered in front of her, Maghatch pulled out a velvet pouch from her sleeve and opened it. As if on cue, the bird swooped and dropped the coin inside and Maghatch tucked the bag away. Once that was done, Mags snapped her fingers and the bird burst into bee-like black dots again and the dots dissolved into thin air. The whole thing happened in a matter of five seconds or less. "I will be there tomorrow, I just have to make sure my things are in order before I leave", Maghatch said, while she was mulling over what belongings to take on the trip. She had a nice black-fur winter cape she should bring in case it got chilly and a small chest of coins that were her life savings, in case they had to bribe a guard or something. "Besides, I'm sure you fellows would like to discuss about me in private, whether I'll make a good addition to the team or not. And that's fine, I understand how people need to talk things out." Maghatch smiled wryly at the noble and the minstrel--she had a knack for nonchalantly saying things aloud that other people wouldn't dare to. She was turning to leave with her purple chicken basket in the crook of one arm, when she stopped and called over her shoulder. "Oh, and as for payment--it is no matter. Once I get my dragon wish, all will be settled..." Then she whisked away pulling up her great hood, her black cape dragging behind like a pool of darkness.
Lavanya Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Lavanya gave a small shrug. Where did that leave her? It was rather obvious, was it not? She had to prepare for obstacles she knew nothing about, fight for survival when she knew that no one survived such a trip. "I need a guide." She explained, although the idea of needing anyone or anything was unsettling. "Someone who knows the mountains. Who knows the path through Dom Eminith." Qinqu merchants sought the path through the mountains every few years. They tended to vanish. But Lavanya knew that there were people, people who had passed through that valley, who knew the secret path. "Do you know the path or not?" If he had not come through Dom Eminith, as she suspected at times, then there was no hope. She would take the desert fool across the plains, through Qinqu, and into the Vale of the Dead. And they, like all before them, would disappear into the ruins. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of life.
Balefore Lark He finished scratching out the last few lines then let the parchment dry a moment before folding it up and sealing it with hot wax and a plain round seal. His preparations were coming to fruition. He just needed to set the stage for the rest of the pantomime. It was a complex plan after all, but the payoff would be worth the risk. One way or another, he would have peace for his land. And retribution... But that was still a ways off, and there were things to be attended to. He'd arranged for horses and supplied to be readied and brought to the north gate at first light the next day. He'd prepared to bribe so that the gate guards would ignore their departure, and made sure that for the next three days he would appear to be staying at the Embassy Inn, and then on the fourth day, leave and begin his journey directly back to the Undying Desert. That is, that would be what everyone was told. Then there was this letter he had just written, he turned it over in his hand, admiring the quality of the parchment. This was the clinch pin on which the whole plan rested. He just had to ensure that it made it back to the Grand Council in no less than five days time. As he looked at the letter one last time, he smiled. Remorse was for the weak.
Talahari Den Kinodoko The Lone Watcher "Never think you are alone. The trees have ears, the birds have eyes, and I have both to heed and record your words." As soon as she shut the door behind her, Talahari eyed the room carefully for a hiding spot. It had most of the usual things -a bed, dresser, curtains, furnishing... any number of things she could easilly use to hide and listen undiscovered. Likely the noble's son would not look to find anything suspicious behind a curtain. Simple enough, she thought, pulling off the servant's garb and tightening the straps on her leggings before picking a spot near the edge of the curtains along one wall. A slim, leaf-shaped blade hung loosely between two fingers should she be found out and need to distract her enemies, and she pressed her back against the wall behind the curtain with barely a rustle of the dense fabric. Now, all she had to do was wait, and as a spy, that was the first thing she had been trained to do.
Crispin Kabryalson "The goal of all life is death" -Sigmund Freud ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Lavanya admitting that she needs help. Times have surely changed, haven't they? Crispin chuckled as he leaned backwards, smugly considering the task. He hated Dom Eminith. He hated those cursed mountains with its beautiful white snow and tender saplings which, against all odds, persisted through the biting cold. He hated the sweet air which poured through the nose with each breath, the gentle crunch of snow beneath the feet. The great majesty of the world from that secluded peak. Gods he hated it all. Yet the Pohoni was someone Crispin had respect for, as little as it was. Besides, he needed a job anyways. May as well help a noble cause. "Like I said, Dom Eminith is traversed only by fools and maniacs, and I've been a maniac before." He raised his tankard and drained the remaining water. "When do you begin?"
Lavanya Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Lavanya let out a mental sigh, and a visible nod, when he confirmed her guess that he had traveled through Dom Eminith at least once in the past. She was generally not very good at reading people's history; she was always more interested in the present. While she could often tell combat training at a glance, everything else she learned about a person came more slowly. She glanced around the inn, to check if anyone was paying undue attention to them, and then leaned in as well. "We are to leave at dawn, two days hence. I am meeting up with my employer outside the Emissary Inn at the graying." The graying hour was one known best by those who lived in mountains or hilly regions. It was the time just before dawn, when there was light in the sky, but the sun was not yet visible. With no mountain peaks or hillsides to hide the sun, the graying was less well known in the plains and desert regions. "If you are there, I can convince him to hire you as well." She had delayed taking payment from him for this, among other reasons. If he wanted her, and if she got to choose the path, then she was going to bring along a guide, and he was going to pay for it. It was, she thought, a simple and reasonable condition. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of life.
Crispin Kabryalson "The goal of all life is death" -Sigmund Freud ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Crispin sighed inside. This Pohoni truly lacks subtlety. What does she hope to achieve by screaming of her origin? He picked up the bowl and spun it on its side, allowing its uneven sways to dominate his attention. "I will be there before the dark begins to fade. Your employer'd best not be late." He reached forwards as he spoke, letting his hand hover over the spinning bowl. As he did so, the bowl began to slow, gradually, but perceptible to the trained eye. Yet, just when it was becoming noticeable, Crispin slammed his hand down, forcing the bowl to rest with a loud 'clack!'. "You'd best be going. I'm sure you have much to attend to." His eyes closing once more, he sat back in his chair and slowed his breathing to normal. Tick.
Talahari and Mason"Witness the Battle of Bear and crane, and know that two can be so unalike, but can be more alike than any other can realize." Talahari leaned a tad forward, listening intently. Good, very good. At least he won't complain that I didn't get enough information this time... Unbeknownst to her, her hand had trailed against the edge of a side table -not enough to cause movement otherwise- but it upset a crystal globe without a stand that had already been balanced precariously on the edge, and she saw it out of the corner of her eye just as it slipped over the edge. Crap! She pressed flat against the wall as the stone shattered on the floor, deafeningly loud to her trained ears. Moments passed and silence held, much to Talahari’s relief. She relaxed herself and waited for the noble to climb into her web. Only the sound of her shallow breaths could be heard, and the low hum of what appeared to be drums. The pitter patter was rhythmic, one two, one two. Was it drums? She couldn’t tell. Guesses were filling her head, but the tempo began to quicken. One two, one two. Talahari’s eyes squinted with focus, thoughts flashing in her mind. Drums? Marching? One two, One two. The pace quickened, and it was louder now. Each beat shook through the room, and she pulled herself away from the curtains just enough to sneak a peek at the door. One two, one two. It burst into a thousand tiny fragments, wood splinters fizzing in all directions. Through the spray a huge brooding shape came into view, and when the debris had settled, she saw him. The hulking brute, tattooed, armoured and enraged, his wild eyes scanning the room. Her breath caught in her throat, which had gone painfully dry. He hadn't told her that there would be body-guards! Anger flared, but it was quickly stamped out as the brute took another step, shaking the floor. Or was that her knees? Whatever -she had to get out of here! She was about to move when she realized that she was behind a curtain, and that there was no way for her to get away unoticed unless the hulking figure turned away, but he was facing her direction. Some great hiding place this had turned out to be! Then her eyes slid off of the man and onto the weapon, and her blood turned to ice. Easilly outweighing her -maybe even some small horses she had seen- the axe hung in the barbarian's fist. She had a very high respect for any kind of weapon and whoever could wield it with skill, but in this scenario it couldn't be any more terrifying. Heart hammering in her throat, Talahari took a thin, black throwing knife between her fingers and continued to draw more until she had five of the leaf-shaped blades. Each had been tipped with a subtle poison for paralysis, but she knew that with that much bulk, the barbarian would not be effected by it. Too much blood to dilute it. Her whole body screaming at her to flee, Talahari forced her muscles to loosen up and relax so that she wouldn't be restricted when she moved. Then, before she could think about the consequences, she darted out from behind the curtain and flipped her wrist to send the five needle-like blades at the brute's torso. Silent, dark, she moved like a black phantom in her tight-fitting tunic and leggings, the strands of ebony hair on her wig fanning out like a cape and making her ghostly-pale skin which had been painted look even more ghastly. Her goal was to stun the brute just enough to make him heasitate, then bolt through the door. The blades dug deep in Maron’s chest, causing a grimace and a stumble. His eyes lost focus as a blur of black and white whisked across the bed and dashed towards the door. The wall held his stagger, and slowly he rebalanced himself. She was going to do it! Talahari could see the light of the day through the door, willing her to escape. She could see the courtyard, the ash trees, the birds and all. That’s where she wanted to get to. That’s where she had to get to. But as she wished her way to the door, time started to slow. The giant, now alert, had swept low with his mighty axe, it’s sharp edged talons flying straight towards her knees. It tore through the air, hungering for flesh, ready to split Talahari in two. In a last gasp effort she slid, onto her knees across the marble. Still in line with the monstrous blade, she flexed her body back to its limit and watched Izabella slice above her, a finger length away. In that moment Talahari saw her reflection in the steel, as she glided towards freedom. The axe passed and she was already up, skipping through the grass. Maron had not been so skillful. The axe hurtled into the door frame, and more debris blasted everywhere. It thrust deep into the veins of the wall, and the front of the room collapsed inwardly, caving him under. The noise was thunderous. Servants and guests had already made their way out to witness the commotion, with more running in time to see wood and bricks scattered awry. Talahari herself had halted to see the collapse, and she couldn’t help but smile wickedly. He won’t be getting up anytime soon, she thought. And she’d have been right if it were any other man. But Maron wasn’t a man, he was a monster. From the depths of the rubble erupted an enraged beast; captive and dormant for too long; baying for blood. Her. It was her. Standing like a twig with dazzling white leaves, just waiting to be snapped. And then he charged. Talahari couldn't breathe, couldn't think. An worst of all, she couldn't move. Paralyzed, she stared numbly at Mason until the last second when her body seemed to make up its own mind to flee. Pain flared as she flipped back, feeling the axe's blade slice along her torso and scraping against her ribs. Rolling to one side as a boot crushed the ground where she had just stood, Talahari scrambled to get away, crimson spattering the grass. She sensed him rumble to a halt, turn as she collapsed against a wall, black dots swimming in her vision. Sweat beaded on her brow and she shuddered like a caged animal as bloodloss took its effect. The wound was long and shallow, but was bleeding at an alarming pace. Need . . . bloodclot . . . she thought grogilly, fumbling with her scatchel to pull out a small sack barely the size of a coinpurse. Opening it, she thumbed out some sand-colored power into her palm and pressed her hand again against the wound. The curious numbing sensation spreading through her told her immediately that she had picked the wrong one. Looking down in horror, her vision darkening even further, Talahari realized that she had used a sleeping powder instead of the bloodclot poweder she had wanted. No! no no no no no! the word repeated itself over and over in her head, and her heart pounded in her ears, only making the effects speed up. She looked up to see that the barbarian had begun to prepare himself for another charge, and beneath the makeup her face turned grey. Quivering, she denied the fact that she might die and slumped against the wall, her eyes glazing over. All for thirty silver. Pathetic Tala, she scolded herself.
Saif-Al-Rahmen Hui Shariah Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ After the witch left, Hui turned to Cassius and indicated his friend should follow. At the edge of the square, the carriage was waiting to take them back to the Shariah family capital city estate. On the way, Hui explained the arrangements he'd made for the trip, or at least the first leg of it. In order to travel unobtrusively, the young noble had decided to forget the usual entourage. There would be just the four of them, with two pack horses. While there would be a few short stops in some of the major cities, to gather intel and supplies, the trip should be a straight forward trek to the Ra'Shala pass and into the Sindori Valley. Well, perhaps not straight. There was a small mountain range in the way. Just as they were arriving at the town house, Hui looked and Cassius and leaned forward slightly. "I want you to keep an eye on the witch, Cas. I don't know her, and you know I do not like to trust strangers." He barely trusted his friends, something he wasn't going to tell Cassius. All they needed was some way to control Maron, some check on his strength. When one presented itself, Hui meant to take advantage of it. The carriage pulled to a stop, and Hui disembarked before Cassius could reply. He was just turning back to speak to his friend more when a loud crashing sound came from inside the house. As a noble, and the only living heir to a once powerful house, Hui should have left the area until it was safe. However, as a young man about to embark on a personal adventure for wealth and power, he was not thinking straight. Clutching his sword, mostly an ornament that he could use in spars and official duels, Hui rushed toward the sound. What he found made him stop in his tracks. "Stop!" He ordered as Maron raised his ax to kill an unconscious woman on the ground of the back courtyard. "You will not kill anyone here." Hui's voice was tight with anger; he seen much of the damage on his way here. Such brutality might be useful in the wilderness, but in a house like the Shariah estate, it was nothing less than mindless carnage. "Common thieves are tried and hung, Maron Barosh, not killed out of hand." Hui stepped forward and looked down at the woman. "Perhaps not so common, after all." He mused. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.First quote by Salvadori Dali. Second quote by Margaret Mead [hr][/hr][hr][/hr][hr][/hr] Lavanya Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Crispin's game with the wooden bowl did not amuse Lavanya. She found theatrics of that sort to be disgraceful; so when he suggested she leave, she did not object. With a curt nod, she rose and turned to go, scanning the inn's main room as she moved through the crowds toward the stairs. She had a room upstairs, and by now the stable boy would have brought up her baggage, two small saddle bag containing a small number of essentials. In her room, she pared down to a simple short robe, and grabbed her double swords. She worked her way through a complicated practice dance, each motion steady and slow. The concentration was a type of meditation for her, a way to focus her mind and body in the moment, on a single motion at, and thought, at a time. The whole time, she thought and rethought her decision to work for a desert politician, a man she would have likely fought against and killed not more than a few years ago. A man she may have fought against in the past; there was really no way to tell, unless they wanted to compare their combat history. As she finished, a small sheen of sweat covering her body, Lavanya stared at the wall. At the graying, two days hence, she was going to set out to return to a place she had sworn never to set foot in again. Honor, she mused, remained a difficult concept to remain true to. +*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of life.
