Private Tales Swallowing dust

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Many weeks had passed since the Massacre in Vel Anir, and many nights still after the Dreadlords has named it thus. In those nights, the city had suddenly become quiet and wicked minds allowed to rest without fear of this "Black Knight" that terrorized them for exactly one year. Given the questioning of her priory, which would ultimately lead to this those quiet nights, Lilette had made her exodus from the fortress city by some means, and traveled south to the nearest portal stone.

From there, she found herself north in the great deserts of Amol-Kalit. She had nothing more than a stolen horse and a small cart of what few belongings left to her. Though, this included some money she had saved up in secret. Her vows of poverty were merely part of the greater disguise, after all.


A small part of her wished she had truly taken them however, as Abtati outcasts, Bandits, had ambushed her somewhere along the road between Ragash and Maraan. Why she was headed this way rather than Maraan or Elbion was anyone's guess, but she most certainly had her reasons. Reasons that the bandits were beginning to question...

"And what have we here?"

One laughed, throwing a little lockbox into the sand at her feet, which would produce the tell tale jingle of coin.

"Please! this is all I have left!"

She pleaded, a look of annoyance more than fear about her porcelain face.

"I Beseech-"

"I beseech thee- to SHUT. UP" The bandit held a knife to her throat now, and all she could do was stare. "That's better. Now, would you please, just give us the damn key? please and thank you?"

Reluctantly, she would slide her veil away from her eye so that she could gaze past her now deceased horse and into the cart. "Not on I. But within the cart, hidden among a pot of old iron-"

"Finally...! good! you can stop now. No seriously, do not speak again. Or at the very least- stop speaking like that"

The bandits looked relieved now that the peculiar nun was silent and pouting. Whoever was checking the cart itself however, looked a little more surprised at his own findings. Instead of the tea pot, he found a much larger chest hidden among the cargo. It was also locked, but it looked a lot easier to just bash open than the other, as this was an old and rusted lock.

"Ohho?! vow of poverty over here is carrying a lot more than a lockbox"
They all began to greedily eye the chest, to which she stepped forward suddenly until restrained by one of them.

"Do not touch that!" She demanded, her front as a meek little nun beginning to fail. The bandits looked surprised, and the leader returned to grab her by the face, shutting her up one last time. She had half a mind to just bite off the finger here and now, maybe summon the contents of that chest, put on a show for whoever was left by the bloody end. Even as he put the knife back to her throat, those silver eyes just stared back and burnt white hot.

Roland Grayson

 

[Medja]

It wasn't terribly often that Medja got out to Maraan herself, especially these days. Generally she just sent Hands there when necessary, given her responsibilities and duty to the Empire. Her endeavors as of late, however, tended to demand more of her personal attention and it was often easier to go looking for what she needed personally, especially when it came to the only thing Maraan had of value in her mind: its archives.

Truth be told, the Sapphires had better things to do than go sorting through dusty old tomes looking for some esoteric scrap of information that might tangentially be related to the dealings of her ancient mentor, and the Quartzes simply wouldn't know what they were looking for. Medja had envisioned dear Kade Anvar digging through piles of scrolls in frustrated confusion, and while the thought did make her smile she couldn't bring herself to torment the boy...not in that fashion, anyways.

No illustrious or elaborate caravan had been requisitioned for this little journey. She'd simply slipped away in a small, personal chariot drawn by a pair of annua-khal stallions, courtesy of the ever generous Prince Mago. Travelling at night wasn't something Medja usually took to, but it was set to be a warm, clear evening, and occasionally looking upon the night's sky while the rush of wind blew through her hair was something that did have its appeal. A simple, peaceful night to herself was both rare and almost therapeutic these days, only the horses and the driver offering any sort of company. Uneventful and calm...but...was that a stopped cart in the distance?

---

Already a bandit had begun to jam a knife into the rusted lock of the large chest, a crude attempt at forcing his way in. The sand elf's eyes shone like little candle lights, eager to breach the container and seize whatever spoils lay within. All eyes lay either on the traveling nun or her belongings.
"I think...I've almost...go--hrrrkkk!!"

The Abtati man's words fell short as perhaps the most unlikely thing seized him instead. An enormous, gilded, apparently clay hand that seemed to carry itself along as though on invisible strings snatched the man up and "gently" squeezed. The bandit let out a pained, constricted cry, and all heads swiveled to witness the disturbance.

"You know..." Medja menaced smugly as she descended a dune towards the group, the bandages wrapped around her arms uncoiling and dancing through the air around her like serpents. The great Fist of Aramekh, the match of its twin that currently gripped a bandit, orbited near her shoulder. "It's rather discourteous to go digging through a lady's things."

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Its rather discourteous to go digging through a lady's things.

Lilette saw her chance and she took it. Nevermind the mage, though her aid was most welcome, but the girl had her priorities. The bandit who had so easily restrained her before suddenly found himself overpowered as the smaller woman threw her arms from his grasp and then took hold of his own. This man must have been nearing 6 feet or taller and yet he was thrown over the girl's back and into the sand in front of her with little effort. Before he could even react he was cut by... something? It could have been a knife but it was inhumanly quick.

Whatever it was, it was now hidden amidst her baggy sleeves. Most were too busy staring in awe or shock at the menacing sorceress by the cart, giving the pseudo-nun a clear shot at one more, stabbing him in the side several times and once again inhumanly quick.

When the handful of survivors took notice of the pained howl behind them, it was already too late. The crazed nun simply used her second victim as a meat shield, which was soon to embed another's knife within the chest while Lilette herself drew the deceased's own sword, adding a third to her count in a single thrusting motion.

Now there were even fewer, looking on in fear at the sorceress on one side and hatred towards the nun on the other.

"Where I come from, Thieves and murderers alike as thee are chained for the wolves!" She spat, silver eyes transformed into soul piercing light beneath the desert moon.

Medja

 

[Medja]

Well, well! Medja had assumed that she was aiding some helpless traveler, but it seemed this one had some fight in her after all. By her pale skin and curious garb she was undoubtedly a foreigner, and the Vizier was well aware that wanderers in these lands tended to be full of surprises. This one was no exception.

"Indeed. Nor do I tolerate highwaymen." The sorceress agreed coldly, her own eyes radiating emerald energy like verdant torches in the night.

The fist that held a bandit floated back to rejoin its twin, but not before passing its hostage into the embrace of Medja's coiling bandages. The man was quickly wrapped up and held aloft, all while the sorceress made dainty, guiding gestures with her fingers, the earth within the fists and bandages alike dancing at her whim.

The remaining men were visibly shaken.
"Those floating things...that headdress, those eyes! Hissut's fucking balls, that's Medja the Smiter!" One cried out. The others tensed, clearly weighing their options. Did they take their chances and run, or did they fall to their knees and lament? If they did the latter would the foreign girl just sink a blade into their backs? What could they do?!

Medja's lips curled into a splendid smirk as she watched the men squirm. She cast a sidelong glance at the silver-eyed far traveler.
"These ones slighted you, dear. Why don't you tell me what you'd have done to them? What justice speaks to your heart?"

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Medja was not a name she had heard, though it was not the sorceress' fault. Still, she understood the hopeless confusion in the voices shouting that name. She understood the potent concoction of fear and reverence displayed on their faces.

Hers bore a subtly similar expression when addressed by the mysterious "Smiter".

These ones slighted you, dear. Why dont you tell me what youd have done to them? What justice speaks to your heart?

"Justice...?" She muttered, brows furrowed and narrow eyes darting from one person to the next.

Every move made, every word shared in the presence of a stranger was a new variable when one lived a life or(Un)life such as Lilette's. That thought always seemed to claw at the back of her mind on nights like this.

It may be a simple question, or it may be a test of sorts, hard to know with people these days. Best choose one's words carefully.

"Madam, the things I am forced to do are hardly considered justice in 'civilized' lands. Quick as it may be"

This was about all she could come up with on such short notice without giving herself away. While surely suspicious in it's vague presentation, there a number of "Backstories" it could be applied to. A number of unfortunate lies told in the spirit of the oldest game: Survival.

Medja

 

[Medja]

How interesting. Not vengeance nor mercy chosen, just indecision. Medja quirked a brow at the strange, pale girl, but smiled nonetheless.

"Very well, dear. Rushing to a decision you're not ready for is rarely a good idea, anyways." Medja chimed, fingers beginning to dance once more.

A low rumble could be felt all around, and the group of bandits looked about nervously. One panicked and began to break into a dash. He didn't get far.

Stone shot from the earth like a serpent and coiled around the fleeing man, ultimately forming into binding bands around his ankles, knees, wrists, and elbows. The man tumbled and fell face first into the sand, a plume of the stuff kicking up where he fell.

The rumble continued, and in a few moments the rest of the bandits experienced the same binding. Those that wouldn't stop shouting and screaming about it quickly found another bind around their mouths.

Medja smiled upon her work and turned to face the pale foreigner once more.
"No need to decide now; at the very worst, the courts may decide their fates. Are you well? Have you been injured?"

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

From within the added shade of the veil beneath the night sky, silver eyes began to dart around the scene. Every man captured, every twist of possessed cloth, was observed and put to memory. And yet, for a woman of a much more 'holy' cloth than this, Her expression wasn't quite as unnerved as one might expect. Surprised, by the way her brow raised and posture stiffened, but not frightened.

No need to decide now; at the very worst, the courts may decide their fates. Are you well? Have you been injured?

Now those eyes would wander to her savior; Dark skinned and finely dressed, exuding magic and regality in equal measure. and something else, though the nun was unsure what that feeling in her gut was at the time.

"Nothing so recent, no" She bowed to the sorceress.

"Though, and pardon my ignorance, I find myself befuddled as a stranger to these lands;

By what name or title shalt I call thee?"

Though the word Medja had been voiced in terror by those now bound in cloth, Confusion remained as to whether this was a name, a title, or even a word of the common tongue.

Only one thing was certain; The sorceress had an air of mystery about her that fascinated both the eyes and the mind.

 

[Medja]

The floating sorceress exhaled and brushed some loose sand and dust from her dress, then let one of her feet deign to touch the dune beneath her. Quite quickly her bond to the earth let her feel the approach of her chariot. It was not a large thing, nor would it be well designed for hauling all of the captive bandits, but a single extra passenger would be fine. Levitating a few men on a slab of stone for a while would be child's play to the sorceress.

Spare bandages severed themselves from their place around Medja's wrist and dropped the bandit she'd had a grip on to the ground, wrapped nicely. She brushed some stray hair behind her ear and glanced to the foreign woman with another knowing smile in the desert moonlight. The other woman knew little of her environment or company, yet she seemed to have a degree of confidence all the same. Medja admired that.

"I am called Medja of Ragash," She intoned in common, Kaliti accent on full display. She offered a polite, slight dip of her head, emerald eyes gleaming. As ever, she preferred to play her cards close to the chest. "And you, outlander?"

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Her veiled head would tilt curiously, noting that no title nor rank came before her name. Still, introductions where now underway, doing away with at least some of the mystery.

"Ah? most fortunate!

I am Lilette, formerly of the Falwood. Ragash is my destination, for I seek The Bimaristan"

She took great care to allow only a feint smile to grace those soft-pink lips, though her tone did little to bely the newfound enthusiasm.

Even so, orderly schemes were on the mind as always.
"Mm- talk of the college has a thought arisen; If I am to choose fates, might I keep but one of these specimens? I believe it could aid in my work"

Medja

 

[Medja]

The Bimaristan? That was perhaps...unexpected. All walks of life traveled these sands, it seemed. The girl was enthusiastic, if reserved.
"Well met, child. You are a student of medicine, then? You fight well for a healer." Medja replied, intrigued. More intriguing, perhaps, was that despite her apparent enthusiasm and the frantic ordeal she'd just endured, her heart rate wasn't elevated. In fact, Medja couldn't sense the woman's heartbeat through the earth at all. Curious.

Yet more mystique was piled on by the girl's choice of words.
"'It?' " Medja parroted as she lifted off the ground once more, cocking her head slightly in genuine curiosity. This farlander had certainly managed to capture her attention. "Dare I ask what you intend for the poor soul?"

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Lilette would tilt her head, lips pursed in thought as the slight miscommunication became apparent.

"Ah? forgive me, I do not mean to address the man as a mere object. In fact, they would be of great value to my research. Something a mere object could not achieve"

Never mind the fact that there were other plans in mind as well.

"I am indeed a student of medicine. However, this was not always so, and I am behind others of the craft. Books cannot teach the same as experience"
She sighed.

"My mission is to learn more of a... rare affliction, madam. one that has seen me stripped of the powers I was raised to command... At least my training in arms is yet to fade, it seems"

She smiled weakly, seeming to glint as something caught the moonlight in that small acknowledgment toward the compliments paid to her skills. Still, there was an understanding there, that she still had much to learn. There was jealousy, building in that cold core, jealousy of Medja 's sorcery that by all rights she should have obtained by now. A difficult craft to be sure, and so she had earned a degree of admiration for becoming the very thing Lilette was meant to be.

 

[Medja]

"Indeed..." Medja replied solemnly. These men's lives were ultimately forfeit, of course, but perhaps more prodding was in order.
While the girl's mannerisms were perhaps...unsettling, Medja did have a soft spot for seekers of knowledge. Knowledge was, after all, her business.

"Well...Amol-Kalit's stores of information are quite vast, and our scholars are many. You've arrived in the right place." The sorceress intoned as she drifted weightlessly across the sand. What a curious woman, and what a curious plight that had befallen her. If, of course, she was telling the truth. With no heartbeat, reading her intentions would be all up to Medja's intuition.

"A rare affliction which denies one their 'powers,' you say? I can only hope such a thing would not be contagious." Admittedly, this Lilette was doing a good job of capturing Medja's ever fanciful interest. "Perhaps, if not, I could aid in what you seek...to some degree."

She glanced over her shoulder at the girl, Medja's chariot and driver finally arriving.
"Shall we?"