Ьȴʊє Ͻ a r a v a n 🚙 🚙 🚙 (new thread!)

Favorite Character Poll Round 10!

Lucien Balthazar Mchale - Vicious hunter of humans and dragons.	27.3%	[ 3 ]
Vasul Calim Shahrad - Crown Prince of Shahrazad and righteous eagle among a flock of vultures.	9.1%	[ 1 ]
Lorelei 'Ellie' Katerini - Knight Errant and Defender of Justice who will kick your butt!	18.2%	[ 2 ]
Inyri Ven - Sharp-minded beauty and budding lady of wares.	18.2%	[ 2 ]
Eriol Epheis - Mysterious man with an eye for the prize.	27.3%	[ 3 ]
Total Votes:			[ 11 ]

This poll closed on November 27, 2014.
No longer accepting new votes.

[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

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Chapter 5


Like the sands, things are meant to shift and change. Time continually rolls over, folding in on itself and collapsing everything we hold dear. In return, we receive something entirely new. Such is the case with our travelers as they continue on route to Belorner. Their prior caravan leader, who they loved dearly, is nowhere to be found. Only the Princess knows where he is kept at the moment, and it’s a secret best kept to herself. A new leader has come to take his seat at the head of the caravan in the guise of a holy guard, a female one at that. With ease he took advantage of the unprepared travelers, especially one naïve farmboy.

The attack was quick and effective. Surprising once it came to light that the bandit party was comprised of three women and two men. The damage done to the wagons was not as terrible as it had originally seemed, and with some hard work put in by the travelers and bandits alike, it was easily repaired. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the slavers, who seemed to have lost the pale woman. In the frenzy she had been crushed by the weight of a horse that had fallen upon her, and both woman and beast had perished, choking on the sands that swirled about them. The young healer too had gone missing, and nobody could find a sign of him. The farmboy in particular was crushed by this, and he worried about his friend, possibly lost in the desert, possibly dead. The redhead who was in the slave caravan had been beaten into a stupor, and the priest in the wagons had caught a glimpse of her, too brief to gather the severity of her wounds, but enough to make saving her even more important than it had been before.

The merchants remained relatively unscathed, but the bandit king made it clear that their goods could be taken at any time, albeit he left them undisturbed, only offering them a companion in an alchemist for the time being. The remainder of the travelers were left to talk amongst themselves, occasionally receiving visits from the farmboy who now acted as a messenger for the bandit king. He knew many of the legends that surrounded their leader, and he was eager to tell them. He also let them know that he had come to some sort of terms with the bandit king. He would lead their caravan safely, hopefully on the path they had originally set out on until he chose to end his leadership of the caravan. Granted, it wasn’t entirely certain that he could be trusted, but they truly had no other choice.

The Sand Shaman had taken residence with the other travelers, making no threat towards them other than his presence. It all seemed far too easy. Their caravan would be the same as before, if anything it would be better protected. It became apparent that the bandit king had some sort of motive, but what it was remained hidden for the time being.

The days between the raid and their approach to the gates of Belorner were relatively peaceful despite the presence of the bandits. In fact, if anything, they provided the travelers with something to meditate on. Certainly some sought for ways to overthrow him, and others may have planned to leave in Belorner. And yet, there was something about the farmboy –his hope, perhaps that made some of them believe that things would truly work out for the better and be ok. Only time would tell.

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[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

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Belorner,

...regarded as a religious town, one where the people are known for their immaculate worship of their gods. At the mention of Belorner, images of pretty women with long white gowns and men in silvered robes spring to mind. Wine flows freely, and yet the people are modest in their consumption of it. All in all, Belorner appears to be a sanctuary to the weary traveler who seeks the structure of a land well run, a land of fairness shown towards all, and a land where there is food and safety.

Many come to Belorner on a pilgrimage, seeking peace within their soul amongst the confines of the city. Others come merely to relax and enjoy the kindness of the people.

And yet, once a month, the city shuts down. Once the moon is full, the gates are closed, and the travelers are asked to leave. No one is quite sure why this is, and yet, even now, a full moon approaches.

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[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

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Keeping the people of the caravan in line had proved fairly simple for the bandit king and his crew. He always had the threat of Abel to hang over their heads, and nobody wanted the blood of an innocent farmboy upon their hands. Of course, there was also the threat of another sandstorm, but he let that linger in the back of their minds. Abel had proved useful as a messenger, and occasionally he let the boy wander. He knew that Abel was wise enough to realize that many people could be killed if he did not return. Whether he would actually do it or not was up to debate, but based on the evidence of what he'd done already, it wasn't something to risk. Often he would catch the boy staring off into the desert. Once he had found out he had been in a caravan with Rasheik the Bold, he could tell the boy had been torn between the idea of having adventures with someone who had emerged from legends and the knowledge that this man had caused such devastation. There was a goodness in the boy, an innocence, and it pained Rasheik to know that if he pushed it too much, he might break it.

"I don' see why ya gotta make everyone fea' ya'." He had said, sitting beside him in the head wagon, his arms wrapped about his knees which were tucked up beneath his chin. "M'frien' died because a' ya. N'othas died. They weren' all nice people, but...ya didn' need ta kill 'em. N' 'ow many more d'ya plan ta kill?"

Rasheik hadn't expected anything near that depth to come from the boy, and granted it wasn't particularly deep, the seriousness of it threw him off.

"For the time being, none."

"A, tha's great, but as soon as stuff doesn' go ya way, ya killin' somebody? Prolly me, righ?"

Rasheik looked away, inhaling deeply, drawing in the dry air. He didn't have the emotional capacity for what he was feeling inside now. It was something that he had never planned to encounter, at least, not in such a large amount. In small measures, sure, but never like this.

He felt guilt.

And it was all Abel's fault. And the worst part was that the farmboy didn't even know the half of it.
He needed to change the subject.

"Tell me about your family."

Abel looked to him with eyes that were squinted to block out the sun and the dust.

"Humor me."

Abel looked away again, but began to speak.

"M'da disappeared when I was li'l. I can't even remember wha' 'e looked like. Me ma tells me he went off inta th' desert on 'is horse, n' she never saw 'im again. Maybe..if'n I ever get away from ya, I can go n' find 'im. I got n' older brotha too. Nah that we were close a' anythin'. He's about nine years olda then me, n' he was inta things I wasn' when I was younga, like girls. But there were some times 'e really pulled through fa me. Like fights n' stuff. When I was real li'l, we used ta go on adventures. 'e was young enough too. Me ma is a good woman, n I love her. I miss 'er a lot."

"Why'd you leave her?"

"Well, m'brotha went on 'is own ta seek 'is fortune. N', I wanna seek mine too. N' I kinda thought it'd be cool if'n I came across 'im or me da, n' went on adventures again. S'all."

Rasheik tucked his scarf tighter about his face, hiding a visible wince. "Well, you're on your own adventure now." Rasheik leaned forward over the reigns, squinting his eyes to see just a little bit further. Were his eyes deceiving him? No. Those were certainly the walls of Belorner, and the gates were dead ahead. Hopefully, Beck would be there waiting. "There's Belorner dead ahead. I'll need a disguise..."





He was harder to recognize when he emerged from the wagon once more. Tattoos, obviously fake, were scrawled around one eye, down his cheek, and along the line of his jaw. They were all symbols of some sort, and upon closer inspection, they were intricate and composed of many little lines and whorls. It was like looking at little fingerprints. Across his other cheekbone was a thick smear of warpaint. His clothing had changed in color, now darker browns and olive greens as opposed to the creams and crimsons that he had been wearing before. His weapons remained, only slightly more concealed, not so proudly brandished. His arms were bare, and the tattoos traveled all the way down his right arm.

"How tall are you Abel?"

"Abou'...six foot...six foot three? Maybe?"

"You'll look intimidating. Step inside the wagon boy, secure the reigns."

Abel wrapped the reigns tightly in place, then went back into the wagon. He emerged about an hour later, dressed in shades of dark and light brown, similar tattoos scrawled across the back of his hands, but not on his face. One eye was outlined in thick black coal. He had a sword looped into his belt, but had been instructed not to swing it about or do anything too dangerous with it. Every now and then, he'd wrap his hand about the handle and grip it tight. He felt a little more powerful just knowing it was there.

They rode across the desert, keeping at a brisk speed, and he stood proudly in the front of the wagon. Rasheik had the reigns in either hand, and he stood with his feet wide apart. Abel sat behind him, legs parted and bent at the knee. His feet were planted near his bottom, and his hands hung loosely between his knees. The slave wagons were still riding alongside, and Rasheik knew that would be of interest to Beck. In fact, he wondered how the lean, pale man would react to it.

He didn't know much about Belorner, but he was intrigued about something inside of it. Something that could benefit him greatly if he could just get his hands on a bottle of it. One simple bottle, and he'd have another trick up his sleeve. Just a couple more hours, and then he would be there, Belorner.





As they approached the gates, he slowed the horses. The caravan trickled to a halt. Akiki came to the foreground, and he passed the reigns off to Abel.

"Hold them steady, make sure you look intimidating. We're about to throw them off guard entirely."

Abel did as asked, and together, Rasheik and Akiki approached the guards at the gates.

"Good day gentleman. I have traveled quite far to -- "

"You here for the festivities?"

Rasheik paused. Festivities?

"Where are you from?"

"M'from Bethryl!" Rasheik shot Abel a look, one that scolded him for speaking. He had wanted him to be quiet!

"Bethryl. Your people haven't shown up yet. Welcome, come on in."

Rasheik paused, stunned, and looked over his shoulder at the boy who seemed quite pleased with himself. The guards stood aside and motioned for him to bring the caravan on through. He proceeded with Akiki behind him, and Abel began to guide the rest of the caravan in slowly. First, he would need to find Beck, and then find out about these festivities. Hopefully they wouldn't interrupt his other plans too much. He hated it when things got in his way. It always led to misfortune for others. Sneaking a glance over his shoulder, he gave Abel a wink, just to let him know he had done okay, and Abel beamed proudly, then quickly dropped it.

Goofy farmboy smiles weren't intimidating at all.

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[artfreek]

}|{Joesephine Jenkins}|{

Joesephine had been playing hide and go seek the old ladies from the place she was staying. It was one of her favorite games, but she wasn't very good at it. They always ended up finding her, but this time they wouldn't find her. This time she had the idea of leaving the big brick building and going outside. They wold never think to look for her there. She had forgot she was playing hid and seek though, so now she was wandering through the streets looking for something interesting. So far she hadn't found anything and she was thinking of going back to the big stone building, but she had forgot where it was.

The thought of all the ladies calling her name and looking for. They always got all worried when they couldn't find her. She pictured them running around calling her name and it made her giggle. They weren't going to find her this time.

“All around the city she roamed. The people wouldn't find her. No not today. Today she'd have some fun alone. Maybe an adventure or two. Something she always loved to do, but never was able to.” She said walking with her hands clasped behind her back. She was always making little nursery rhymes though they didn't always rhyme, not that she cared. She was in her own little world most of the time.

Her shoes tapped quietly as she walked. Every once and a while she would skip a few step then go back to walking. She hummed nameless tune as she walked adding in few words when she felt like it. It was really bright out. She liked it. She could see everything and watch as the light glinted off of shiny objects. Some of the things were really pretty and she wanted them, but she knew it was bad to take from people, so she left them be. Maybe when she had something to give the people she would be able to get what she wanted, but she had nothing to give.

Joese peered closely at the ground. Sometimes people dropped their things and if the things were on the ground it was okay to take it. If she found something she might be able to get something she wanted. So the girl set out watching the ground very closely, so she could catch anything she found.

[jadeshaw88]

Jonathan Cortez

Hey ladies ho ladies
Come follow with me
Hey ladies ho ladies
Come follow with me.

There was a small shout as a young man tumbled out of the doorway of an inn and then artfully dodged a thrown tankard. A smile lit on the man's lips as he started down the street, one hand on his hat, the other clutching a lute. The man who had thrown the tankard cackled laughter behind him as did many of the other patrons of the inn. It hadn't been the first time that Jonathan had said the wrong thing or played the wrong tune or flirted with the wrong girl and it wouldn't be the last. The man called a few choice words to the escaping minstrel and then went back into the pub. The skinny pretty boy wasn't worth his time.

Ducking around a corner, Jonathan stopped to catch his breath. He was in pretty good shape for all that he was thin as a rail. He often told people that what meat he did have on his bones was all muscle. One had to be in shape if one was going to play around with the village girls...village men were fast and had heavy fists and hearty kicks. He straightened and smiled again, this time pulling out the kerchief he had received from the inn keepers daughter. Ah, young maidens. They always gave the silliest gifts.

After carefully tucking the kerchief into his belt pouch, the minstrel made his way to the center of the city where he could perform for a spell. He would need the coin for a new room. Lucky for him, he didn't have much in way of valuables. Just the clothes on his back and the lute at his side. What more did one need but clothes to warm the body and music to warm the soul? With another smile, he pulled his lute around in front of him and decided to play while he walked. Perhaps a nice ballad about a missing princess or a bawdy song about a seer who liked her men a little too well. Perhaps even a song about the famous Blue Caravan and it's travels. He had heard that there had been spottings of the caravan all over the desert as of late and all said that it seemed to be headed their way. Yes, the adventure filled song about the Blue Caravan would do quite nicely, he thought.

"From the desert so vast
To the mountains so tall
Ye'll need a caravan
What covers em' all
If ye're travelin' alone
Or ye got the whole crew
Ye can take me word for 't
The Blue Caravan's for you

If ye're a priest or priestess
Wants to take to th' road
An ye're fearin' the men
What won't stick to th' code
Ye want to feel safe
An' don't know what to do
Ye need seek the wagon
Whats color is blue

The caravan leader
In all of his might
The thoughest o' raiders
He'll give um' a fright
If ye need t' leave town
At th' height o' the moon
Don't fret lords an' lasses
It be comin' here soon..."

I've searched the world over
For maidens in plight
To help them through their days
And me through my nights
My quest never ending
My song is now through
If you're a maiden in trouble
I'll be coming for you.

[Nacht s t e a m p u n k]

More ❅ Text ✾ Just ❂ Extra Stuff ❃

❅ The sunrises were priceless when looking from the dunes of the Thahbufir. With the white-gold sands, the burning colors of the sky reflected on it like water. Lucia lowered her face cover of her cheche, a headdress cloth her current company gave to her, and reveled in its beauty. A wind blew past her, shifting the sand beneath her and making her stumble slightly as her weight pushed through the grains of sand. Lucia was finally able to peel her eyes from the golden ball of fire that was rising and made her way to the wagon circle where her current caravan sat, still asleep from the several days of long journeying across the mountains.

Starting at a run, Lucia sped down the hill until she was sliding down it, throwing up sand behind her. She finally stumbled at the bottom but continued a strong jog until she reached the outskirts of the caravan circle. Several horses looked at her and twitched their ears at the bounty hunter's return before looking away, seeing that she was nothing of great importance or bringing food. The only thing that seemed to greet her with muted excitement was her own mare, Bahira. Lucia went up to the horse and held out her palm for the animal to lip. Giving the horse a pat on the neck, she went to the wagon that she shared with two other women to retrieve her food store bag. Bringing it out, Bahira pranced a little in excitement of seeing the welcomed bag. Reaching in, Lucia pulled out two apples and a small leather pouch. Pulling the drawstrings, Lucia carefully reached in and pulled out a perfect cube of sugar. Bahira licked her mouth and pulled on her tether a bit to lick the piece in the woman's hand. Lucia chuckled and shushed the horse before giving over the little precious piece of deliciousness. When the mare finished, Lucia gave her her proper breakfast before going to the home fire in the middle of the camp.

An hour later, the sun had almost fully risen. Lucia had already refueled the fire, set the skillet, and put several links of sausage and cracked a few eggs for the caravan. When the leader, a man of dark, ebony skin and lean muscles emerged from one of the men's wagons, Lucia stood from her seat and gave him a salute, pressing her first two fingers to her forehead then bowing. He returned it before sitting down on the warming sand. He spied her bags and Bahira already saddled. "So, you are leaving today?"

Lucia nodded. "Aye. Belorner is two days away with the pace the caravan is going. If I go now, I can reach it by noon or twilight." Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she nodded to the leader once more and moved to Bahira. After swinging herself on to the saddle, Lucia looked at the man once more, "Oh, and your payment is on the bed mat that you so kindly let me use. Thank you and safe journeying." Without another word, both horse and mistress turned from the caravan and departed from the area.

The sun continued to rise, but the wind kept steady and did not allow the star's heat to overheat. When ever a water hole or oasis was found, the pair stopped to rest. Each time, Lucia would wipe the foamy sweat that formed on Bahira and Bahira would step quickly to get going again once the weight was gone. As if the goddess of wind graced Bahira with swift feet this dawn, the pair made it within several hours distance from the religious city of Belorner. Taking out her spy glass, Lucia could make details of the walls that protected the city and the traffic flowing in and out from its gates. Reaching down, Lucia patted Bahira's neck and smiled. "Almost there, my dear."

As if of one mind, Lucia pressed her heels into Bahira's sides as the mare began to move in the direction of the city. Lucia could almost feel the smooth, cold steel of coins in her hands as she began to think of new jobs for her to work.

[Watervoir]

■ □ ■ - - Evelyn Alinari

┐

Evelyn entered the wagon, bearing news of their arrival at Belorner, the city’s state of affairs and something else too.

“Bethryl?” Velius repeated his guard, briefly glancing up in thought before returning to his work. “Fair enough. The region is surrounded by mountains so it’s a real challenge to get in and out of there. It’s unlikely that the actual group from Bethryl would go out of their way to attend an event here in the middle of nowhere. That’s probably why Rasheik chose it as our place of origin.”

Evelyn, who was hanging onto every word of her charge’s logic, caught a fault in his reasoning. “Actually, the farm boy was the one to announce it.”

“Abel? Now that’s a surprise.”

But no matter what amount of surprise he might have claimed to possess, it didn’t show on his face. Seated comfortably on a crate, he was perfectly engrossed in his writing. Evelyn was curious, but knew better than to steal glances over his charge’s shoulder. Instead, she made her way over to the wall and unlocked the shutters, exposing the interior of the wagon to the light outside. As the town rolled past, she studied the architecture of the buildings and the winding curves of the roads. Her gaze travelled past priests in flowing robes, girls her age wandering otherwise empty streets and minstrels on their merry ways. Automatically, her eyes detected odd nooks and crannies that one could have hid in to catch others unawares and in turn her mind devised tactics to escape such a threat. For Evelyn, this exercise was second nature.

“Here’s the list.” Thoughts interrupted, she turned around and found Velius motioning her over, brandishing a slip of paper. She approached, taking the parchment in her hands. “Read it, memorize it and burn it.”

She looked at the paper. Written in Velius’ neat script were the names of various wealthy individuals. Addresses were included with the less common in the list, a few from outside of Albrind. She knew what, or more precisely to whom, this list was for: a slave trader who, unless circumstances had made otherwise, was located somewhere in the religious city. Only three minutes were needed to wholly commit the couple of names to memory, after which the slip met the flame of a lit candle. It burnt to a crisp, as per instructions.

Sensing her charge move, she whipped around. Indeed, Velius was no longer in the wagon. Evelyn sighed and calmly bolted the shutters before making her way to the open door, doing up the key lock as she left through it. The sun shone brightly, the bleached walls of homes heightening the effect of its intensity. Blue wagons lined up against a tall stone barrier which, judging by its gradual curve, encompassed the entire town. Finally, Evelyn’s tracing eyes located Velius.

“See here?” he said as she approached him from behind. The street he was facing ran perpendicular to the stone wall. “If you follow this path, you’d eventually reach what they call the Hall of the Gods. We’ll be going there later. First we need to run some errands.”

He turned and she caught sight of a wily smile. It was if he was expecting something. Evelyn pointed her attention in the direction of his line of vision but made out nothing of interest. Perplexed, she waited.


└

[The Rectumbler]

The message had come quite clearly to him, but not in the way that Rasheik had intended. His messenger, well, he didn't quite make it. But one of Beck's own had, a scout, lean and long, darting across the sands with a whiplike movement. A cobra, hood lowered, looking more harmless than anything else. Any enemy approached, and the fangs would be bared. A combination of speed and intimidation, perfect for this current mission. When the creature had returned, he had heard the answer in its hiss.

In two days time...

It was then a build of anticipation, building up like a slow lick of the lips. You would watch the tongue slowly trace across, and the whole time, your body would become increasingly excited at the prospect of what was to come. No matter what it was, it was bound to be devious, and you liked devious. Beck liked devious, which was why he liked Rasheik. A bandit king was an acquired taste, and Beck liked that in a person too. A person couldn't just simply like a bandit king, you had to put up with them. Deal with the fact that they would always have the upper hand, and that, at the most, you could hope to be their equal. Of course, you'd only be an equal in the shadows, a wingman to greatness.

Normally, he wouldn't accept that in a relationship with anyone, but..for Rasheik. He would. If only so he could try to find out whether he could changes his taste in men.

Those two days were spent in the halls of justice. He had made quick friends with one of the consuls over lunch. It hadn't been a hard task. Beck remembered approaching him from behind, leaning forward so that his head had been tucked perfectly beneath his chin. One finger had worked its way through beautiful honey colored curls, and he had leaned in to whisper in his ear. A python that had been casually draped over his shoulders and down one arm whispered into the other, speaking in a tongue that only Beck could understand. The man's eyes had gone soft, and he had relaxed in the chair. One of his hands had reached to take Beck's, and gently, he began to kiss his knuckles. The imagination can take their affairs from there.

He had purused the halls of learning, making his way amongst the scribes until he found one who appealed to him. Easily he had been seduced, with words whispered in his ears. The snake had coiled about one of the youth's legs, up the bare thigh, and Beck had noticed the dimples on the young man's lower back. Enamored, he had been whisked away without a word, out to join the entourage of pale beauty that marked the member's of his slave crew. He stood out, with his golden skin, sunkissed from the desert. He would suck that warmth away soon enough. Unless Rasheik brought him someone else equally golden, then perhaps the two...

Beck's mind trailed off in the hall of learning, his feet crossed at the ankles upon Kingsley's back. The boy was feeding on a peach, and he was watching him from the corner of his eye. A female scribe passed, and Beck amired her slender ankles. She was pale and lovely, perhaps later he could have Kingsley convince her that there were better things in life. His sunkissed boy sat beside him, his head leaning upon Beck's shoulder.

"Tomorrow night..." the boy whispered softly.

Beck pursed his lips then looked at the boy. "What of it?"

"You must leave by tomorrow night....please..."

"Why? I have an important friend arriving today, and I feel we all would enjoy the festivities tomorrow."

"No...no no no..." he said quickly, shaking his head back and forth. There was genuine fear in his eyes, and tenderly, Beck caressed his shoulders, leaning in to whisper in his ear. The boy seemed to calm slightly, and the snake coiled around his thigh, tightening beneath the tunic. He cried out gently, and Beck placed a finger to his lips.

"Now, dimples. Let's keep this crazy between the three of us here, all right?"

"It's not crazy...not yet."

Beck looked away, met Kingsley's gaze, and with a quick jerk of his head, he left the boy behind in the hall of learning. He would have loved to have kept him in his entourage, but there was no room for crazy in his slave wagon. The snake unwound from the boy's body and followed him out of the hall of learning. There was a commotion amongst the people in the streets. Talk of a new caravan, recently arrived from Bethryl. He unstrapped his parasol from his back, and with a quick popping sound, he had it unfurled and raised high over his head. He hated the terrible sun and the miserable heat. It wrecked one's fair skin so brutally. He grabbed Kingsley's hand like a small child and dragged him towards the caravan, his pace alarmingly brisk. It was as if the tongue was now at the corner of the lips, the precipice where you knew that as soon as you were on the other side, things would be delightful.

He pushed himself forward, and froze. That man was not Rasheik, with tattoos and drab colors. At least, he wasn't at first glance. But ... that proud stance, his voice as it carried over the winds, his arms, and the square set of his jaw. No, it was him. He stepped forward, releasing Kingsley's hand. He wrapped his arm about his waist and looked to those he could see. A large black man, and a boy steering the horses. He liked the look of him, solid, but at the same time, he didn't possess the qualities that he looked for in a slave. When he caught Rasheik's eye, he waved, and then, he beckoned him over with one slow finger.

[jadeshaw88]

If only night could hold you...


Ari hadn't said much when they had gotten back to the priests wagon despite the urges from Nesa to let it out. She had done what she could to help repair what wagons had been damaged and when night had fallen, she had carefully crept back to her own wagon and hadn't left it since. She had emergency food stores that had thankfully not been gone through when the bandits took over. Indeed, it did not seem as if they had even searched her wagon. When visitors came, she offered them a drink or a bit of food but remained silent. Occasionally the silly farmboy would come by and tell her how great this new leader was but she made no comment. It was the longest she had ever gone without speaking.

She had been meditating, praying desperately to her gods that she would get out of this okay, when she heard the noise of the city. Her hearing had always been especially good since she was blind half of the time and had to rely on her other senses. So she heard when the discussion with the city guard took place and she started praying afresh. She had heard about the festivities that went on in this place. Hopefully the bandit king would not keep them here longer than was necessary. She also hoped that he would let them go. He could keep all of her possessions in the wagons if he let her go. She was no use to him right now. Not with her power all messed up.

She heard Velius outside of the wagon and bit her lip. Perhaps she could convince him to take her to the front of the wagons so that she might have a little chat with the new caravan leader. Of course she could. Velius would jump at the chance to watch her get herself in trouble again. In fact, she was surprised that he hadn't come by to visit her and plant the idea in her head. She hadn't seen him since the first day of the take over, now that she thought about it. Why hadn't he come to see her? That b*****d!

Very carefully, she wrapped her eyes and made her way out of the wagon. How she would find Velius was beyond her. Other than the sound of his voice, she really had no way to locate him. Luckily, he liked running his mouth about as much as she did. "Marco." She called out as she inched forward, grabbing hold of the wagon in front of her own. Speaking after keeping quiet so long hurt her throat but she needed to do this. "I need to speak to you immediately." She tried to keep her voice sweet despite her annoyance. They had their differences and they didn't know each other very well but she would have thought that he would have at least come by to laugh at her for getting kidnapped again. He never passed up the chance to make her feel stupid! He could even make her feel worse about letting the farmboy take her place. He probably could have gotten her to talk if only to snap at him! Jerk!

...Where I can see you, my love

[treasured one]

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- three months ago -

Darkness fell heavy like rain did not in Shahrazad. It was a night unlike any she had ever seen. For so long, the dark had been her constant companion. It hid her from the people she wished to hide from and shielded her from those who would gawk at her. This night, she wished there was a moon. It was too dark for her liking. For once, she did not want to hide in the shadows of obscurity. Her gait was proud and distinctive - had she been walking through a crowded marketplace, the common folk would have made a path like a rock slide through trees. Such was the life of a famous, well-respected bounty hunter. Well. In some circles she was famous. Her purse, which had gotten accustomed to being empty, was stuffed with gold coins and joined by another that was equally so. She had succeeded in bringing down a most notorious criminal, and although the emotional gratitude felt good as well, it was the monetary gratitude that influenced her to do the job she did. A rare smile graced her face.

But footsteps behind her set her brain on alert. This section of the city was mostly deserted, most of the inhabitants having been pushed to the slums by their current king. Her smile vanished, and her hand slid to the hilt of her sword. Being caught unprepared was not something she was going to let happen tonight. The footsteps quickened; echoing loudly on the cobbled street. She also detected the sound of jeweled necklaces clinking against one another, as well as the sound of a blade in its hilt. Although armed, this person was making no attempt to sneak up on her. It seemed they were just two people who happened upon the same empty road. Nevertheless, she did not remove her hand from her blade.

Footsteps grew closer until the person passed her. It was a man; finely dressed and large. He glanced over his shoulder as he passed her, then made a sudden movement. He stepped out across her path and stopped, turning on his heel in the middle of the street. She was forced to stop as well, and they faced one another as though prepared to duel. His eyes roved across her face, lingering on the scar. She gripped her sword, ready to draw it in an instant. Instead, he spoke.

“La'Tive?” It was so simple, so benign an inquiry, she did not answer right away. Many knew and feared the name Keziah La'Tive, but there was only a select few that would go through the trouble of tracking her down in the middle of the night. As a bounty hunter, she made friends, but more enemies. He seemed to take he silence as a confirmation, and spoke again.

“I seek to begin a contract with you. There is a man, Lord Tanon. I would like him killed and I hear that you are one who can get things done. Your name is well known across this land.”

Keziah narrowed her eyes, gazing at the man with a wary confusion. Lord Tanon was a friend of the king, and a highly prominent member of the nobility. Based on the way this guy was dressed, he was probably acquainted with him. But, she was not a mercenary. Not everything she did revolved around money. “Sir, you seem to have misinterpreted my purpose. I am no assassin. Nor will I make a contract to kill an innocent noble. Farewell.”

She stepped around him, listening hard for the sound of his departure. It did not come. Instead, the sound she had hoped not to hear reached her ears: that of a blade being drawn. She did the same, spinning on the spot like a top.

“You will do this for me or I will kill you!” He screamed, brandishing his sword. His stance, hold on the blade, and incorrect posture indicated he had never actually attacked anyone.

“No. Sheathe your blade and return to whence you came. You do not want to fight me.”

Keziah held her voice steady, hoping against hope that he did not attack. She did not enjoy killing innocents, and this man, though crazed, was not a criminal. He did not listen to her order, nor her unspoken plea to avoid violence. He charged, letting loose a bellow that shook the windows. He swung his sword like a madman but Keziah's lithe, quick form was able to easily dodge his swings. He wouldn't stop. He kept attacking. When she grew weary of his madness; she beat him back and knocked his sword from his hand. The man froze, staring at her with wide-eyed fear and something akin to adoration. They were both breathing hard, and Keziah sheathed her blade. His eyes seemed to widen further.

“I am leaving now,” she said, kneeling to pick up his sword. “Do not follow me.” She turned her back on him, but before she got six paces, she heard a dagger being drawn. This time, when she turned on her heel, she drove his sword into his chest. Blood bubbled from the fatal wound, gurgling out of his mouth and dripping down his face. He stumbled backwards, dropping the dagger and staring down at the thing protruding from his body. His breath slowed, he fell to his knees, but looked up to her with tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth, coughed out his final words: “Thank you,” before collapsing to the ground, dead.

Her body was frozen. Had he wanted her to kill him from the beginning? What was all that business about killing the Lord Tanon, then? She had no time to think on these questions, as two men came sprinting around the corner moments later. All parties froze. They stared at the bloody mess at her feet, her bloody hands, at each other, back to the body, and finally to her face. They looked to be guards of some sort. A closer examination confirmed her assumption: the crest of the royal guard was emblazoned on their helms.

Keziah spoke first and quickly, responding to the accusations in their minds. “I am innocent. He attacked me,” she said, pointing at the dagger beside him. But her voice seemed to bring the two men to full awareness.

“Murderer!” One shouted, pointing at her with wild eyes. The other drew his sword. “You will be punished for this travesty! You've murdered Lord Tanon!”

They ran towards her, but Keziah was already sprinting away from them, vanishing into the darkness. Suddenly, she was glad there was no moon.

- present -

Somewhere in Belorner, Keziah La'Tive sat bolt upright. Her dreams had been plagued, as they had been so many times before, by the night that ruined her life. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, before dragging herself to her feet. It was more difficult than she had anticipated - sleeping on the ground in alleyways was doing a number on her back. Twenty-three years old and she felt like an old woman as she picked up the scarf she'd been using as a pillow; making sure to shake it off as hard as she could before wrapping it around the lower half of her face. Only her eyes and hair stuck out of the top, and after she flipped the hood of her cape up, nothing but her cold eyes were visible. She wondered how today was going to go. Food was getting more difficult to come by. Keziah had never thought of herself as a theif, but when the wanted posters had showed up all over Belorner - she'd been left with no other choice.

During the week following the "murder" of Lord Tanon, she had stayed in Shahrazad, hoping that she would have the opportunity to turn herself in and tell them what had really happened. Her contacts in the castle had told her of a friend - a bounty hunter turned castle guard member - had heard the two witnesses description of her and had sold her out. Anyone that had spent any time at all with her knew 'raven hair, raven eyes, and an ugly scar' most likely meant Keziah. Then, the wanted posters exploded all over the city. A near perfect rendering of her face stared at her everywhere she was hiding. It was no longer safe for her. The bounty on her head was enough to tempt anyone. It was rumored that the King himself had funded it. Even people she had once called friend were on the hunt. It gave her a new understanding of the men and women that she had once hunted down. If she ever came across that man again, she would kill him.

So it came to pass that a woman shrouded in cloak and scarf emerged from the alleyway. The city was by now as known to her as Shahrazad had been, but the regret of coming here was growing with each sunrise. As she made her way through the streets, the sounds of the festival grew gently louder. Ahead of her, she spotted a group of people gathered around a poster on a wall. A few more steps, and the image became clear - her face. Her eyes narrowed as she halted, listening to the conversation they were having.

"I heard she'd been spotted within these very walls."
"But why come here?"
"Why not? Belorner always welcomes travelers."
"It's closest to Shahrazad."

The conversation stopped as they noticed her hovering. She cleared her throat, adding a slight tremor to her voice, trying to sound kind and worried. "Sorry. I have seen posters like this everywhere and I have been trying to find out more. She does look threatening."

A young man stepped from the back of the group, apparently trying to impress the mysterious woman. "She's on the run for murdering a Lord of Shahrazad. He was a good man, too. Friend of the King and royal family."

Keziah allowed her eyes to widen. She hoped it was believable; she'd never been much of an actress. "And has Shahrazad sent guards to catch her?"

He nodded, "And from the whispers that I have heard, many a bounty hunter has mobilized." The young fugitive's heart seemed to freeze a little more.

"Well, thank you, sir. I shall watch for her."

She did not allow him to speak again, merely set off past them with a simple nod to the rest of his companions. So Shahrazad had sent guards? A slender hand emerged from her cloak to twitch her scarf and hood, ensuring her face was properly hidden. It was certainly time to leave this religious nuthouse. Upon reaching the freshly erected marketplace, she opened her ears. With the people gathered together, she was able to steal with little trouble. It took some time, but soon a few pieces of fruit and some bread weighed down the little pack inside her cloak. She found a space of empty wall and leaned against it. From some of the snippets of conversation that she had heard, a large caravan had arrived from Bethryl. Perfect, she thought, stepping onto a side road and pulling her scarf down to munch on an apple, nearly giddy at the prospect of leaving this place.

So the chase begins again.

[Watervoir]

Ѵeȴɩus Kɩɾʈɑ
ɳoble

While he stood, the wagons of other caravans rolled toward and then past him, hunting for their own spots to park at. They were hailed, as the Blue Caravan had been, by banners fluttering from their posts along the roofs of the white-washed buildings on either sides of the lane and entertainers looking to make a quick coin. All around folks flocked together to help in the festivities, tittle-tattle about the unusual wagons in blue, or idle around and be completely in the way those entering or setting up. At first, it seemed as though Velius was staring down a highly celebrative yet largely unremarkable street, and for the most part, he was. The silver lining was Velius’ current object of scrutiny, located a numerous distances away, down the tidy but beaten path. Tall, lean, and difficult to mistake, it was someone that, unknown, would not have been visually inspiring enough to catch Evelyn’s attention. It was Beck. What luck.

His attention was diverted to a noise directed at him. Eyebrows raised, he turned and was greeted by the sight of Aria, sightless, vulnerable and guided only by sounds and her sense of touch. To see her out and about was the last thing he expected, and for a moment he stood in wide-eyed bewilderment. Evelyn, not quite as entranced by the scene, stepped forward and arched an eyebrow at him, finally making Velius straighten up and set off a short series of blinks to rid himself of his spell. Briefly, he considered the prospect of simply letting the seer wander for a while longer to see others’ reactions to her helplessness. Would they stop and offer their assistance? Or would they turn away in haste in an attempt to hide the fact they ever looked her? Or would they just stop and stare, as he had?

Yet as much as he would have loved to learn the answer to his questions, he allowed them to evaporate back to the elusive void from whence they came. He wasn’t inhuman enough to ignore her request nor the danger she was putting herself in to make it. “Aria!” he said, a grand grin spreading upon his face. Stepping past his waiting guard, he approached the seer, arms opening outward at her in courteous acknowledgment. Whatever had made Aria risk leaving the safety of her wagon by her lonesome was beyond him, though he had his bets on that it was not merely to speak to him. He had yet to see Aria conniving, but he was ready to believe it was possible. If his guess was right, she would be demanding something of him, perhaps a service of sorts. Of course, that wouldn’t happen until after a moderately long-winded conversation, or rather, argument.

He stopped before Aria. No hand was offered for her to hold, though he was close enough for her to grab on to if she so wished. “You'd like to speak with me? And immediately too. It must be important.” There was a pause as he looked her up and down, as if sizing her up. It was a rather meaningless gesture as far as body language went since the seer would not have been able to see it, though one had to pull out all the stops to act well. “But I fail to see how anything you’d like to discuss with me would be enough so to be worth my time.” She wouldn’t have known about his patronizing stance but she would have likely imagined it from his tone.

[jadeshaw88]

If only night could hold you...


Ari let out a breath that she hadn't realized that she had been holding at the sound of Velius' voice. For the terrifying moments when there had been no answer, she had thought that she had only imagined his voice. He sounded glad to see her though. That couldn't be right, could it? Perhaps she was sleep walking or dreaming. The real Velius wouldn't have sounded so chipper. At least not when greeting her. Unless, of course, he was playing with her in which case, she would beat him within an inch of her life if she ever got her hands on a new walking stick! She was half a mind to do it anyway for not visiting.

His next words brought a scowl to her face, her mind made up that he had been playing with her. Ugh, why did she even bother with that man? Was she so charitable that she would force herself to be friends with a man simply because he had no others? Well that should get her in the Mother's good graces at least because only the Mother knew how much of a pain the man was. She thought about it for a moment and then decided that the Mother would likely make her into a patron goddess of Mercy for her troubles. "Of course it's important elsewise I wouldn't have bothered asking for your help." She snapped, even a goddess of mercy had her limits. "And your time isn't so valuable as you make it out to be." She would have hit him at that point if she knew where he was and if she was sure that she could hit him and keep her grip on the wagon at the same time.

She sighed and then reined in her temper. Was she not asking a favor of this exasperating man? She would have to be softer than this if she was going to get his help. Otherwise she would have to wait for the farmboy to return and only the Mother knew when that would be. "I need you to take me to the front wagon. There are some matters that I wish to discuss with out new leader." She said, her voice suspiciously patient. Especially since one could practically hear the embers of her fiery rage crackling just below her skin. How to sweeten the deal? How to make it worth his while. "I think you'll enjoy what I have to say. In fact, I believe it will bring you great amusement. You'll no doubt say that there is nothing I can do to amuse you but..." She gave a bitter smile beneath her blindfold. "That is beside the point." He would hopefully take her out of curiosity's sake. Please, goddess, let it be so!

...Where I can see you, my love

[Watervoir]

Ѵeȴɩus Kɩɾʈɑ
ɳoble

“Oh?” Velius was charmed. Easily Aria could have gotten someone else, Nesa or Krios or maybe even Abel, to guide her to the lead wagon. All it would have required was some time and patience for one of them to stop by. They would likely have willingly obliged too. But instead, she decided to struggle with putting effort into convincing Velius. Besides that, he was awed that she would nevertheless trust him enough to ask for his help after what he had put her through the other day. Back then, he could have left her in the desert to rot and, though it was impossible to do the same in a town as bustling as Belorner, he could do something that in effect would be just as worse. After getting scared out of her wits, she must have known better than to entrust him with her life again. And yet even so, she made the request to him. It was a pretty thoughtless thing to do in his opinion, and he concluded that this idiocy was likely the product of the same incredible foolhardiness that got her in trouble with that other slaver.

“I’ll enjoy what you have to say? Why? Because you’re going to make a fool of yourself doing it? Are you implying you run around saying stupid things even when you’re fully aware of it?” He pressed her, knowing very well that Aria might slap him for it. “And no. I’ve got to say that just about everything you have done has amused me.” But in spite of that, he considered turning her down right then and there so he could leave. Sure, he was curious with what she wanted to talk to Rasheik about. Even if he wasn’t, he could have stuck around and simply had fun stalling and messing with Aria some more. But he had people to see, places to go and plans to realize. The caravan was only going to be in Belorner for so long, whereas Aria would still be there when it would have departed.

And then it hit him. The corners of the noble’s lips curled up devilishly as a plot was conjured. The idea came slowly at first, starting with the recollection of how Beck was at the front of the caravan when Velius first caught sight of him. With any luck the man would have still been there for the noble to do business with. It then he worked out the roles of those involved. First there was Beck... And then there was Aria, who might just prove to be of service if he brought her along, though for the seer her raison d’être would have been to talk to Rasheik. While irritating, she would not be useless if all went according to plan.

“I don’t know,” he told Aria, maintaining his feign of disinterest, albeit through a smirk. “I’m a busy person and I have better things to do with my time than spend it laughing at you.” A moment of silence arose, making it seem as though the noble was lost in deliberation, before suddenly he threw his hands in the air, mimicking defeat. “But what the heck. Let’s go.” Taking her by the hand, Velius pulled Aria away from the wagon.

A scan of the area revealed Beck located a minute’s walk away, standing by another man. Casually, Velius started towards the two, Aria in tow. Recognizing neither the linens of the man’s garb nor the tattoos that ran down the side of his face, the noble’s eyes fell on him, curious as to who he was and what his dealings were with the slaver. Evelyn, who had been silently flanking her charge, brought herself beside him and answered part of his question. “That is Rasheik.” Perfect. Sometimes it was handy to have someone who could identify those in disguise.

He picked up the pace. They were now within perfect view of the bandit king and the slaver, though not yet within their earshot. Taking advantage of the latter fact, he warned the seer. “Don’t speak until spoken to.”

Then, with a brilliant smile and a glint in his eyes, the noble called to the tall albino man. “Hello there. You look ridiculous with that umbrella.” There was no derision or surprise in his words; they were purely his thoughts.

[azora natashi]

XXXXXXXXXXXX❀ R є s υ ι a ❀

“How do you even pronounce this?”

Resuia stared at the piece of parchment stained with squiggles of green ink. It was a shopping list written by both the merchants, and of course she volunteered to gather them. At first everything was normal. Bread, eggs, cigarettes, but the last few items were a little strange. The paper turned in her hands, examined thoroughly and turned again. She was certain that Mohini had gone into another language when writing them. The task of reading was eventually given up on, the paper folded messily into quarters then shoved into the pocket of her red dyed pants.

The woman grabbed her fans and the pouch of gold left for her and jumped off the wagon. She planned to make a little bit of money with a street performance and so had put on her finest dress, well her only dress. “Bye bye! I’ll see you in a little while!” She gave them all her best totally-a-smile-and-happy face, waving joyfully behind her retreating form. Since the moment that odd blue lady, the none-Mohini one, had come to stay with Ebosia, Resuia had done everything in her power to not stray within a five meter radius of her. The water woman was beyond freaky and every bit suspicious and cunning as the other dancers in court. Honestly she was glad to be given an errand that kept her far away from that woman. Now all the courtesan had to do was figure out where the market was.

White washed walls flanked either side of the bustling street filled with polite strangers in white garbs. Almost every block or so, a bulletin board was put up filled with wanted signs. It was hard to believe that there were so many people who would look for criminals within Belorner. Or perhaps it was more accurate to assume that there were so many criminals to begin with. Many were pictures of burly men with no sense of fashion or hygiene and missing teeth, eyes and limbs. There was one however that looked decent, a woman with a distinct scar marring her face named Keziah La'Tive. “Wow, how scary. Such a large bounty!”

Resuia pondered momentarily before noticing another fine face beside that one. Hers. Albeit it was horrifically drawn and made her look like her face had been hit with a shovel, not to mention her hair was much longer. The significantly smaller sum next to the other woman’s was endearing though, at least they were paying in gold. She tore her ugly portrait straight off the board, scowling at the latter part of her full name neatly printed in ink identifying the figure. That bit was ripped off of the rest and crumpled in her fist.

She looked around for anyone that looked approachable. At first none came into view but a gentle voice floated over the crowd from a brightly dressed man. A hand shot out and grabbed him, the only non-white thing on the entire road, minus herself. “Oh, um… Excuse me. Tell me, does this look like anyone you know?” The poster was held to the man’s face. Even if she knew it looked really nothing like her, it was more reassuring to have a second opinion. Obviously grappling a man’s shirt whilst they play the lute and sing a song was incredibly rude but it was of the utmost urgency. The concern on the girl’s face should have given that away.