- Messages
- 511
- Character Biography
- Link
The wind blew in from the grasslands of the Savannah, carrying with it the sere scent of desolation.
The Traveler stood atop a low rise overlooking the vast expanse of nothingness. The wind carried only dust and grit, setting the green and tan of grass to waving like an ocean. There was a reason one of the native tribes that called this place home referred to it as the Sea of Grass. They didn't exactly, but that was what the name for this place translated to in the common tongue. Close enough, anyway.
Mad whisperings skirled round the Travelers' head. Disparate voices demanded contradictory things of them. Even so, there was one thread underlying all of them.
The scaled one knows. She knows. She can take me to where I need to be. She can show me the truth.
Hidden behind a dark leather mask, the sorcerer smiled, and turned to head back to their wheeled palace.
To think, and to dream of ... somewhere else.
***
Something struck her head hard enough to make the world spin. For a long moment, the Seer lay on the wooden floor and stared unseeing at the wall across the way.
It was only after a few long and painful moments that she realized that no one had hit her; she had twisted off the bad and struck her head on the nightstand on the way to the floor. Sweat stained sheets wrapped her legs; beads of sweat stood on her forehead and her bare chest. The stifling room was shut against the abrasive wind that blew through town, and so the only light was that which managed to make its way round the shutters that hid the sun.
The No'rei slowly sat up, her back against the bed. Her head felt as though someone had filled it with sand. She did not know what she had done to anger a blacksmith so badly, but he could probably stop beating on her head so rhythmically. The sour taste in her mouth brought to mind all the wine she had drank the night before. That recalled her to what she was doing and where.
She needed another drink.
Getting to her feet made her head hurt worse. It still didn't hurt as bad as her arm, though; that infernal thing never stopped aching like the damnation it was. The twisted scar that spiraled round it worse than hurt: it rendered the limb useless. The same kind of scar marred her left breast. Both were the legacy of a spear thrust taken while escaping a prison. It was the infection earned crawling through a sewer afterwards that had done most of the damage.
That did not bear much thinking on. She got to her feet briskly, ignoring the stabbing pain in her head with the ease of a familiar old friend. The wince was for the fire in the arm.
Several minutes later, she was walking out into the common room of the dusty little way house out on the Sea. It was not precisely early; most of the caravans had already left for the morning so that there were only a handful of people sitting at the tables in the fly-haunted, oppressive heat of the room. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows; the sun was at least two hands above the horizon.
She stumbled to a table and sat heavily. She tossed the short stabbing spear on the table and wiped a hand across her brow.
"Today the day you'll be leaving?"
She looked up, wincing at the brightness from the window behind him. She scowled at the proprietor of the way house. The tone of his voice said that he would be sorry to see her go. Probably so; she was worth a lot of money for the amount of wine she drank. Just then she wanted more. Maybe it would dull the fire in her arm or make the incessant whisper in her soul quiet down. It would absolutely cure the ills caused by drinking so much the night before.
"Not know," she said sullenly in heavily accented common. "The boss, have seen them today?" She was not certain whether or not it would be a blessing if she did. Was not sure if it would be a blessing to leave this shithole of a wide spot on the trade route between Elbion and Vel Anir.
The man shook his head. She shook her much more carefully, and tried to recall his name. She failed. "More," she said shortly.
She could almost feel the smile as he went somewhere in back to get the stronger wine that she liked. She just stared dully at the table in front of her, ignoring the few that occupied the other tables.
The Traveler stood atop a low rise overlooking the vast expanse of nothingness. The wind carried only dust and grit, setting the green and tan of grass to waving like an ocean. There was a reason one of the native tribes that called this place home referred to it as the Sea of Grass. They didn't exactly, but that was what the name for this place translated to in the common tongue. Close enough, anyway.
Mad whisperings skirled round the Travelers' head. Disparate voices demanded contradictory things of them. Even so, there was one thread underlying all of them.
The scaled one knows. She knows. She can take me to where I need to be. She can show me the truth.
Hidden behind a dark leather mask, the sorcerer smiled, and turned to head back to their wheeled palace.
To think, and to dream of ... somewhere else.
***
Something struck her head hard enough to make the world spin. For a long moment, the Seer lay on the wooden floor and stared unseeing at the wall across the way.
It was only after a few long and painful moments that she realized that no one had hit her; she had twisted off the bad and struck her head on the nightstand on the way to the floor. Sweat stained sheets wrapped her legs; beads of sweat stood on her forehead and her bare chest. The stifling room was shut against the abrasive wind that blew through town, and so the only light was that which managed to make its way round the shutters that hid the sun.
The No'rei slowly sat up, her back against the bed. Her head felt as though someone had filled it with sand. She did not know what she had done to anger a blacksmith so badly, but he could probably stop beating on her head so rhythmically. The sour taste in her mouth brought to mind all the wine she had drank the night before. That recalled her to what she was doing and where.
She needed another drink.
Getting to her feet made her head hurt worse. It still didn't hurt as bad as her arm, though; that infernal thing never stopped aching like the damnation it was. The twisted scar that spiraled round it worse than hurt: it rendered the limb useless. The same kind of scar marred her left breast. Both were the legacy of a spear thrust taken while escaping a prison. It was the infection earned crawling through a sewer afterwards that had done most of the damage.
That did not bear much thinking on. She got to her feet briskly, ignoring the stabbing pain in her head with the ease of a familiar old friend. The wince was for the fire in the arm.
Several minutes later, she was walking out into the common room of the dusty little way house out on the Sea. It was not precisely early; most of the caravans had already left for the morning so that there were only a handful of people sitting at the tables in the fly-haunted, oppressive heat of the room. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows; the sun was at least two hands above the horizon.
She stumbled to a table and sat heavily. She tossed the short stabbing spear on the table and wiped a hand across her brow.
"Today the day you'll be leaving?"
She looked up, wincing at the brightness from the window behind him. She scowled at the proprietor of the way house. The tone of his voice said that he would be sorry to see her go. Probably so; she was worth a lot of money for the amount of wine she drank. Just then she wanted more. Maybe it would dull the fire in her arm or make the incessant whisper in her soul quiet down. It would absolutely cure the ills caused by drinking so much the night before.
"Not know," she said sullenly in heavily accented common. "The boss, have seen them today?" She was not certain whether or not it would be a blessing if she did. Was not sure if it would be a blessing to leave this shithole of a wide spot on the trade route between Elbion and Vel Anir.
The man shook his head. She shook her much more carefully, and tried to recall his name. She failed. "More," she said shortly.
She could almost feel the smile as he went somewhere in back to get the stronger wine that she liked. She just stared dully at the table in front of her, ignoring the few that occupied the other tables.
