Lady of the Desert (M)

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It was night, and the metal from her knives and jewels glistened off the moon.  Her movement was slow, and well guarded by the darkness as her sandals stepped across the sands.  It was late, who knew what hour, when the caravan strolled into view. She would have missed it had she not heard it's approach.  The trinkets chimed in a clattering discourse, and the horses and animals they bought breathed heavy against the onward calling of the men.

Smirking, Zarrah held back, keeping pressed against the darker shadows beside a sand dune as she watched them pass close to her home.  Not many dared to trail down this path, except those in a hurry, and those trying their luck.  It was this known passage the myths had come about and her legend had been born, yet despite the growing tails, there were still men who fancied money over their lives and disregarded the warnings.

As she studied the group, it appeared to be all men. Good. She wasn't fond of killing women or children, and animals would replenish in the spring.  It was men- dirty, stingy, greedy men whose lust of life, money and women would be their own downfall. Though she wasn't sure what game she ought to play this evening, but upon verifying the banner they carried had been from her former husband- her fingers itched for blood.

Despite what some legends may say, she was hardly after men to give them a good time, but even a woman as restless as she had an appetite and if it helped lure them into a trap where she could make more of a dent into her husband's pocket, then so be it.  She'd sell more than her body for that.  But how she wished, everytime her knife cut a throat, that the warm blood that bubbled was his.

She would never forgive him.  She would tear him apart.

And despite now that she could find a way to be free, she wanted nothing more than to destroy the man who took the single person who was the symbol of all of her dreams and affection.

Rassar.  It had been sometime since they had shared a kiss, the warmth of a bed and each others bodies, but it was his laughter, his smile she missed the most- and she'd damn the man who took it from her.  Adultery? What was adultery when you were sold as a wife, having no choice in the affairs of your own heart?  Her heart was still heavily salted, poisoned by her own desires for vengeance.


Yes... tonight, there would be blood.

Slipping across the shadows, the thin fabric of her robes moved like a ghost, swathing her from view as she stealthy approached.  They were several miles from the city.  Many miles from any other people who would hear them scream....

It didn't take long for her to approach the man at the back. He was a tall, dark skinned man, drinking from a goard and belching as he finished. It was obvious he was drunk, the moon's glow cast upon his glazed eyes.  He wouldn't suffer long. The blade was quick in her eyes, and a quick movement, flickering like silver, slashed across his throat.  He made a soft noise, then fell into the sands.

The caravan continued onward, not noticing the sands behind them trailing in blood as Zarrah crept forward towards a pair of men.  These two held swords across their waste, and were conversing over their own affairs, not realizing the tall woman, shrowded in scant clothing and a sheer, black veil that danced around her body as she crept, was heading straight for them, a thin, bloodied knife in hand.

"Canarvus might get angry with us. We're already two days late. I can't see how this trail will get us there much faster." The man shook his head.

"Yes, but it beats remaining in the gully.  And traveling by day. Desert trails are much easier with the animals at night." the other said.

"Tch, no need for excuses. Hopefully he'll be happy we weren't stingy this time. This wagon's heaped with goods."  Shaking his head, he turned to the other man in the group who had been hired to help take watch of the place. He was about to ask him, he thinks his name was Castor, or something, when something sharp cut across his throat.

His mouth fell open, blood gurgling inside his throat as the woman pushed him aside, moving like a shadow, and as the man beside him gasped and reared back in fear, too stunned to draw his own sword, she was upon him, fluttering out a metal fan that sliced over his fingers, batting his hand away and nearly lobbing it off, and in just as quick and deadly of a motion, she slashed the bladed fan across his chest, a quick X-ed motion, before pressing it to his throat, letting the dying man look into her dazzling violet eyes that shimmered as beautiful as the night skies themselves before drawing the fan blade swiftly across his throat.

Red blood stained the sands around her, and once she caught sight of another man, she was quick to dance out of the way, her veil fluttering before she disappeared into the shadows to where she stared out like a hungry lion, stalking her pray and keeping herself silent, steady and at a distant.

She wasn't sure if he was the last of the men, but by now, some of the animals had already panicked at the sound of blood and began to bray. Others, that were more fortunate and not chained so well, had already ripped themselves free of their feeble bindings and bounded off into the desert...

But then all went quiet- deathly quiet as Zarrah moved forward, her eyes on the last man standing.  He was all that was left between her and the damage she could do upon the caravan. Though she could leave him there to rot, after all, what good could one man do with an over burdened cart and not enough animals to pull it?

But she felt unsatisfied and angered every time she killed, for even she knew it was wrong to take those lives, but she kept telling herself, again and again they are just like Carnavus. And if I could, I'd kill that man a hundred times over.

Pretending her prey was the man she hated the most in all the world made killing all the easier, and a little bit more satisfying as she crept forward, fingers upon her long, slender blade, the other, held tightly around the handle of her bladed fan.


That's when she caught sight of Castor and smirked, noticing his back was towards her.
It was time to go in for the kill.
A few quick foot steps would be all he'd hear as Zarrah moved deftly, like a serpent, ready to strike, aiming to cut the man hard across the back and down him before he got a chance to wield any weapon in hopes to save his own life....


OOC: Uh, obvious tags to Castor, lol.
Hope this intro works~
Feel free to write as you may, and I don't mind whatever surprises you wish to throw at her. Figure we can keep this introduction of the two characters interesting :)

[Lion]

It was a hopelessly small group, but he suspected the less men they had, the more pay they would split between them.  They were escorting a rather large amount of goods, too much for merely four men to handle.  But it was worth every gold coin to make the effort, or so his companions argued.  They spoke an awful lot, and had plenty of booze to go around.  However, he always refused.  Alcohol made a man lose sense of himself, and it wasn't like there was much out here to get lost in anyway.  Just...emptiness.  And sand.

He'd never been afforded the luxury to waste time with nothingness and drink.  And he certainly couldn't afford it now.  Castor chose to remain focused on the task at hand, much to the distaste of his companions who he could hear calling him a worthless bootlicker, a nobody who they'd have no qualms about leaving behind should he fall victim to heatstroke.  All the more for them they figured.

Castor had every desire to crush their puny, weak skulls between his hands, but he knew just as well the disadvantages that would be borne if he brought unnecessary attention to himself.  Especially the kind of attention that it seemed the woman he was looking was fond of bringing on herself.

And that was the most imperative incentive if anything to keep his hands to himself.  He knew nothing concrete about her, save what stories were spun and woven around nightly fires, most of which he found difficult to believe.  There was barely any real evidence that the woman actually existed, save for the bodies of men said to have been mutilated and left to rot.  But though he'd never been to the desert before this, he knew creatures always roamed the wild, open spaces.  Perhaps there was just an angry beast on the loose, with obviously nothing better to do.

Yet thoughts like these made his circumstances all that more bleak.  If he allowed himself to be filled with doubt in the first place, then he already lost.  And he wasn't about to let that happen.  There was too much at stake for him to let go of the only thing that could lead him to only thing he valued more than his own life.  Whoever this so called "Lady of the Desert" was, one thing was for sure, she must have made some serious enemies.  Serious enough to pay for her capture.  After all that was the reason he was out here in this godsforsaken landscape in the first place.  Granted the man who wanted her captured, wanted her alive.  A task Castor was having his doubts would happen if the rumors proved to be true.  A woman who left the bodies of men ripped open and humiliated in the desert expanse, was unlikely to come quietly.

The caravan lurched with the weight of the goods, the animals that they were transporting, in addition to the barrels of water, an invaluable resource out here in the scorching heat.  They fancied to make a great deal of gold from if this venture if all went well, perhaps double all the cargo's weight if they were lucky.  But money, truly, was the last thing on his mind.  All Castor could think about was how he was going to find this woman, who could literally be anywhere in this wasted place.  He needed to find her, needed to know that once fulfilled, his employer would indeed deliver on the promised clue that would lead him to his next Relic.  To his freedom.

With so much space to look through, he had to quickly deduce what the most efficient way to travel was.  The most obvious that came to mind: Trading.  Out here: By way of caravan.  It wasn't long before he was signed up as an escort/work hand for some big name merchant named Carnavus.

He had hid his gauntleted hands, which ached from the stiffness of steel, but in the ten years since their acquisition, they'd long since become one.  Leather gloves covered them, as he wore long-sleeved shirts, a long, wide scarf to cover his face and head from the sand.  For weeks they traveled, slowing for the day, drinking and eating rations sparingly and resting only for moments in the night, speeding up their pace due to the severe lack of sun.  But this time was different.  They rested during the day, Castor hearing talk of them diverting from the main trade route.  They said they would take a shortcut through a narrow valley, one they said would cut right across the sea of dunes and out to the other side of the route, saving them three days easy.  As they prepared to pass through, Castor had watched from the rear the sun, incendiary in red, burning its final traces across the sky before gradually slipping to sleep, leaving night in its wake.  The heat was gone, and in blew the cold winds, almost icy when compared to the merciless touch of the sun.

Castor fell asleep inside, next to the barrels, along with another hand, as the others took their shift of keeping watch.  The caravan lurched and the smell wasn't as unbearable as he suspected, sleeping soundly.  They stopped for a moment, to let the beasts of burden take their rest.  There was murmuring outside, he could faintly hear, even through his slumber, the mumbled yammerings of his drunken partner.  There was a low gurgling sound, a little unusual for someone as good a drinker as this one, and then silence.  Castor stirred, looking up, taking his scarf covering and throwing it over his shoulders, as he sat up all the way.  He couldn't see the man anymore, who'd been standing at the rear.  He said nothing, hearing voices without of the other men, but soon they were silenced as well.

Castor waited, listening to nothing but his heartbeat.  But the animals began to stir, feeling unsettled and turning loose from their bindings.  Castor made no move to stop them, moving carefully out of the back, finding the body of the first victim.  He was alert now more than ever, standing to full length, and listening for the motions of something.  Suddenly he felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and tingles of electricity.  A slight crunch of sand compressed underneath weight, made him whirl around at lightning speed.

Castor turned around and backed up to face his would be killer squarely and head-on, but she was already rushing at him, ready to strike.  Castor caught her blade hand and used her own momentum to launch her away from him, using only enough strength to put manageable distance, but still throwing her quite a few feet, for a not so soft landing on the sand.  He remained on the defensive, ripping the leather gloves that coated his gauntlets and tearing that cumbersome long-sleeved shirt that covered his leather tunic.

"C'mon!" he taunted, anger clear in his voice.  "You wanna kill me!  Gimme your best shot!"  That was all the warning he gave her before charging at her full throttle.

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Stunned, Zarrah was tossed aside into the desert, where she made quick work to land as agilely as she could, and remained crouched in the sands as she stared up at the man who taunted her.  Her eyes narrowed, and when he approached, she'd be ready for him, sand in hand. When he neared, she threw it towards his face, hoping to temporarily blind him as she kicked off the ground with a yell, aiming to plant her sandaled foot up her chest, where she'd kick her way up his body in a fury until reaching his face, where she delivered a final, more powerful blow to his head before tumbling up and away: landing, into a gentle somersault on her hands.

The sands were used to temporarily blind him so she could retrieve her knife, which had fallen when he tossed her aside.  With her knife now in hand, she smirked over at the warrior. He had no idea she had nothing to lose. Poor pathetic soul would lose his life over mere coin. And what did he have to protect? With the animals gone, there might be some worth in the remains, but again, how could one man think he ought to gain from that?

The night was still young, perhaps there was time to play?
Before Castor would have a chance to come after her, she made quick work and vanished behind the wagon, and climbed up over and around with graceful motions until she landed on top of the wagon and crouched down, her dark, veiling robe and hair fluttering to a rest beside her as she melted into the shadows.

And before Castor would know what hit him, Zarrah ascended, swiftly through the air, two blades ready, two knives seeking to cut towards the critical and vulnerable areas on his face and neck.

[Lion]

Castor charged her full speed, but every instinct knew no fight went according to however many plans or rules one set up.  He half expected her to kick him away, knowing his own speed might be his downfall, the other half expected that sand to fly up in his face.  A hand went up to block part of it, but as soon as he was close enough to her, he felt the sand enter into his mouth and nose more than it did his eyes.

She was fast he'd give her that, but if she thought even her well placed blows to his chest would do anything to slow him down, she had another thing coming.  Castor recovered quickly from her assault, keeping his ground and his distance, knowing he'd have to come up with another, more calculated plan of attack.  She was too fast for him to give chase, not yet anyway.  He kept his eyes where she had vanished, silent and stepping back.

Adrenaline was already coursing through him and it felt hot in as if his blood was on fire; an incendiary to his senses.  If she thought she had nothing to lose, Castor had already lost everything.  But there was a flaw in her play, she seemed as if she wished to draw this out, to toy with him like he was some kind plaything.  Castor was ready for her.  As soon as she was within his grip, he put her down.  Literally.  He'd reached for her neck and arm, and slammed her hard into the ground.  he pressed all his weight on her, pinning her to the ground.

"Stay down!" he commanded.  "Or I'll smash your skull to dust!"

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The motion winded her as Zarrah remained, stunned on the ground beneath his hands.  Her ego had gotten the better of her, and she wasn't expecting this sudden turn of events as her lips curled dangerously.

"Go ahead and try it," she baited, her violet eyes burning fiercely. "But my ghost will return to haunt you."  Her chest heaved angrily, her eyes and body daring him to just try and crush her skull. Who did he think he was? He was lucky he was quick... even a little strong, or else his own head would be the one being compromised. 

When the tables would turn, and they would- she began to plot the ways her knife could twist into him, though he might be able to easily imagine what she was dreaming as she looked at him, wishing to tear him apart with her eyes.

"You and Carnavus, you're all the same," she spat. "Dirty, greedy bastards who need to get what's coming to them!" She struggled lightly, but he had a firm grip on her, that, and she wasn't entirely sure his threat was false as she tensed beneath him, eyes like poison.

She was so angry, she didn't even care she gave away her true reasoning for her rage-
Even people couldn't understand by now or make the connections...
Well, let's just say this fool wouldn't live to tell anyone anyways...
and if he did...
well, perhaps it's time Carnavus knew someone was after him....


and there would be hell to pay.

[Lion]

She's pushing her luck, truly, he thought with a grimace.  He had every intention of proving it to her until he saw that look in her eye.  Whoever this woman was he was having a feeling this was exactly the woman he'd been looking for?  He could see how she'd come to make his employer very very angry.  He snarled, not budging an inch, putting just a little more pressure on her throat to know he was serious, before stating plainly.  "I don't believe much in ghosts.  But I know you must be quite as elusive as one."

Castor's ice-blue eyes were as hard as a glacier and just as cold.  When she mentioned Carnavus, he made a face at her, clearly confused, but not about to take the bait.  "You don't know anything about me," he said with grit teeth.  "And whoever you're really angry at, take it out on them.  But for me, you'll drop those knives if you're smart."


But he didn't let off her just yet.  "You're very popular out here in these godsforsaken sands.  Popular enough for someone to pay well for your capture.  I've taken it upon me to collect.  You must have been a very bad girl because this particular person is quite angry with you.  Will you come quietly or will I have to drag you by force?  Look at it this way, the easier to you make it on me...the easier you make it on yourself."

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Zarrah's eyes narrowed, but she wasn't a fool. She knew this man wasn't about to let her go so easily, but fire still burned in her eyes, and it would not be easily snuffed out.

"I know enough about a man who would side with Carnavus," she replied coldly.  Her hands tensed upon her blades, but even she knew it might be foolish to try to cut at him. She could already tell he was far stronger than she, and a nice bruise was forming on her neck. But she sneered through it.

"I will take my anger out on anyone who dares get in my way," she threatened, her eyes never left his as she added, more tensely. "And that includes you."

Even if she were to die here at the hands of this man, she knew she'd be back again...
but in truth, she did not want to waste her chances on a hired hand who just so happened to get lucky in trapping her.
She moved again, testing his strength, but found herself becoming choked under his grip when she tried.  Gritting her teeth, she let her knives slip from her fingers, but not before suddenly cracking her head into his face.

Using the moment of shock, she twisted in his arms, crying out as she jolted inside his arms, wriggled, then kicked her sandal against his chest as she pushed herself away, but found herself falling, face into the sands with an aggravated cry.  But she wasted not a second, and began desperately climbing away as she scrambled to her feet, spun on her heels, black hair fluttering as she attempted to meet another sandal at his face.

"I will not be taken so easily!" she cried, attempting another kick towards his face as she growled. "You, and every other man out there like you, buying your luck off the weak and helpless, will fall pray to the hell you deserve!" She threw another round of kicks before she drew another blade, hidden within her boot.  "You will all rot in hell, as an example to those you torment as slaves!" and in a upward slash, she thrust the knife skyward, hoping to tear it across his gut, or at least slash the man with a mean, bite of a cut.


He would pay! And he would pay with his life!

[Lion]

Gods be damned if he was a fool for thinking he could even attempt to negotiate with her.  But you couldn't blame a man for trying, especially when he was quickly running out of options.  If she thought he was fighting for three dead companions, a bunch of runaway animals, and wagon full of empty rum bottles, and barrels of water, goodness was she wrong.  Dead wrong if she didn't watch her tongue...and her movement.

Just when he thought he had her, however, she managed to surprise him yet again.  She shifted out of his iron grip, at the price of her own pain, and slammed her foot against him.  She struck him with surprising strength and he fell back, even with the unnecessary assault on his face.  Stars flashed before his eyes before he managed to regain his sight again.

Castor leapt to his feet, scrambling after her.  But it was just in time to see the flash of steel against the moonlight, and what brief light the wagon lanterns offered.  Damn her and her blades!  Castor switched his stance, blocking her strikes with the gauntlets, sparks flying off of them showing the force and clear intent behind each blow.  Castor tried to snatch the blade with his other hand, or knock it from her grasp.

"I'm may burn in hell, but it won't be because of you!  I don't even know what the hell you're talking about!"  Castor tackled her to the ground once more, moving to straddle her to keep her from moving anywhere if he could.  "Whatever your anger is, your battle's not with me.  Think about what you're doing!  I'll thrash you and you won't even know which way is up or down or left or right!"

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Zarrah let out a frustrated cry as she was tackled again to the ground,t his time in a more compromising position as she violently struggled beneath him.

"Last time I checked, I was in a battle with you,"she seethed.  "And I'll be angry with whoever I want to!  You chose your fate,"s he grunted, desperately moving beneath him as the light fabrics of her veiled robe began to tear, "the moment you chose to join that caravan."  panting, she paused in her struggle as one thin straps from her revealing attire slipped over her shoulder as she stared up at him indignantly.  "I will *not* become your ignorant slave!"  She thrashed about again before adding, vehemently, "Nor anyone's slave ever again!"

It was about this time she was nearly shaking with rage.

"You can harm me, torture me in anyway you can, but you will not stop me in getting my revenge!" she replied, her head raised with pride.

Struggling again, she let out a frustrated noise when she couldn't move.
"Unhand me!" she screamed, attempting to kick into the desert, but it was all to no avail. "Or I swear upon the moonlight I will cut you down this very evening and make you suffer the wraths of my years of pain and suffering!" She was so angry, her eyes pierced with angered tears, though she was not about to cry before this man- if anything, she was about to explode.


She would *not* become a slave again! She would not go down with out a fight!

[Lion]

"You think I want you as my slave?"  The very word made Castor sick to his stomach and she was lucky he didn't lose his lunch all over her face.  He grimaced, but kept her pinned.  "I'm not trying to hurt you!  I only need you to calm down!  Besides, it's not like there's anyone out here who can hear you scream.  You squeal like a piglet ripped from its mother's teat."

And she did just that.  Continued to belt out whatever words that seemed to come to mind, but Castor stopped listening after "ever again."  It was clear to him now there was no talking sense into those hell cat of a woman and if he was going to capture her alive, he had no choice than to do so by force.  He did let one hand go, for a brief enough moment to slam a fist into the side of her head that would, if effective, knock her unconscious for a long enough time.

"Silence!" he said.  He sighed with the effort it took to keep her down.  He looked her over with speculation.  How could so much rage be contained in such a beautiful vessel?  He said nothing as he leaned over her and did her one courtesy of placing her loosened strap back over her shoulder.  Then he stood and stalked toward the wagon, looking toward the area where the animals had broken free.  There was a loosened length of rope, thick enough and suitable for his needs.

With the rope wrapped around his shoulders, he returned to her, knelt and proceeded to tie her up, wrapping both her hands and feet, first separately then together, like a prized piece of cattle.  Another glance at the wagon, which was useless since the beasts escaped their bindings as well, Castor stalked to the blades she left in the sand, picking them up and place them by his side in his belt and proceeded to start on his work on the caravan.  Twenty minutes and several pieces of broken wood later, Castor had two barrels of water, large and cumbersome fastened on a makeshift sleigh, pulled by extra rope he found.  That would be more than enough to make it to the nearest city, he figured, but perhaps he was calculating distance poorly.  No matter, he had his target and he'd take her back no matter how...uncooperative she was.

He grabbed a pole from the side of the wagon, thick and long and just for what he needed.  Walking back to the spitfire, he proceeded to loop her limbs around the pole, legging her just hang there, upside down as he proceeded to pull his sleigh, out into the night.  He didn't know how this Carnavus fellow as going to react to finding three of his employees and merchandise killed and otherwise missing.

But Castor knew one thing.  When the woman came too, she probably wasn't going to be very happy.  Too bad he didn't have a rag small enough to stuff her mouth with.

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When she awoke, her head was throbbing. It must've been one of the worst feeling headaches in the world as her bleary eyes began to focus on the moving shadows around her.  Her wits hadn't returned quite yet, as she noticed the make shift sleigh, then the noises of the wooden planks slipping across the sands.
It was then she heard the familiar sounds of labored pulling-
that's when her eyes widened as she turned with a jolt, but cringed when she realized she was bound. Wriggling again, she realized, much to her detest, she was bond tightly and couldn't move and gave a few more movements before going limp.

A moment later, her violet eyes slipped over towards the man who was pulling the sleigh.
So perhaps the man hadn't crushed her skull. She stared at him in silent hate as he continued to pull her along, thinking of all of the ways she could make him suffer as much humiliation as she was suffering now-

No... death would be too easy for him.  For now, all she'd be able to do is bide her time and think of a clever way to escape...
Too bad no ideas came to mind as she allowed her eyes to drift back towards the stars.

She had to wonder if the man aimed to really carry her back all by herself, after all, they had a little over a days travel from where the caravan had been struck, and would roast in the sun lest they got caught carelessly mid-way through the pass.

Zarrah knew of areas to keep safe and cool during the heat in this expanse of the desert...
her eyes then slipped back to Castor.
As if she'd share that piece of information with him.
Maybe they could both rot together in the desert alone?
Staring back at the stars, she could only hope.

[Lion]

For the most part, he knew where he was going and the pass was linear enough to not meander too much into confusion and if his now deceased companions had been right, the path would cut three days of travel from the route.  However, another thought was nagging at him.  The woman had been lingering in these parts, it seemed, just waiting for them.  No doubt other dangers lied ahead and thankfully he had nothing of real value to part with save the water he lugged and the woman hanging by the pole.

Speaking of which, his ears perked up at the sounds of struggle against the tension of the ropes.  Castor turned his eyes back to the woman, though kept on walking ahead.  He actually grinned at her, in some small satisfaction that despite all her protests...she was taken rather easily.  But the victory was short-lived and he turned his head back.  "Sorry about that," he said.  "But you didn't really give me much of a choice.  I would have preferred if you could walk beside me instead of hanging there like some wayfarer's bundle on a stick.

"If I could have had it differently, I would.  But all the same...you chose your fate, as you put it," Castor said, sighing with the distance and at her.  He said nothing further, taking his time to look up at the stars as well, reading their path as he'd learned to do so sometime in the past ten years of wandering.  It wasn't easy, but much like how a sailor used them to navigate by sea, Castor could gradually map out their path more or less in his head.  They still had a long way to go, but at least they were headed in the right direction.

He recalled his doubt.  This so-called shortcut. 

"You were waiting for us to arrive, weren't you?" he asked, casting his eyes back at her once more.

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Zarrah glared when he grinned at her.  Though she might do the same if the predicament were turned around, she still wasn't happy about it as she felt the painful tingling in her legs and arms from being bound.  She struggled lightly again, just to try to ropes a second time and wilted against a breath when she realized it was useless.

At his comment, she glared again, but remained quiet.  Chose her fate nothing, had the man not aimed to capture her for whatever greedy price was on her head, she wouldn't be in the situation.  Perhaps she had pissed the wrong people off and they finally hired someone competent.

She gave a snort at the idea.

At his next question she looked towards the sands.
"I live here," was all she said.  "There's nothing else better to do than to kill innocent travelers."
It was a partial joke, but also one said in bitterness, since she knew this man was hardly innocent, and neither were the other men he had been with.

[Lion]

Maybe he was doing the wider desert a favor by removing this pest from the goal she had set herself upon.  She didn't sound like she had any real remorse for what she had done, and though he didn't care about the men he'd been traveling with, he knew it was terrible to die without even having had a fighting chance.

"Of course, there is," he replied.  "What do you gain by killing them anyway?  You didn't seem to be after the cargo, which had a great deal of value to it.  You slice their throats like some kind of coward, and try to stab me in the back.  You accuse me of crimes of brutality..."  He scoffed and shook his head.  "But what makes you any better?"

He began to mutter to himself, musing and thinking of her worthless accusations.  She had a lot of nerve, that was for certain.  She knew nothing about him, nothing!  And she had no right to call him a slaver, when he himself had spent two thirds of his life in dirt and toil, fighting with everything just to see the light of day.

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Zarrah had grown quiet. It wasn't that she was ignorant of his words, or what he said, but that she had forced herself to be so.  She knew it wasn't right for her to kill men so cowardly, but had, over the course of the years, grown bitter and knew she would never get her revenge lest she stooped to their level.

If a man was seen as a monster (and sadly, most she killed, probably were), then there was no guilt in the blood she spilled. She cursed him inwardly for bringing up such things and reminded her, herself, about how ignorant she had become. Yes, cowardly, but she had no other choice. Being forced into exhile, being given a second chance...


She closed her eyes and tried to swallow back the guilt he had placed inside her.  Pride aside, she knew, over all, she was in the wrong.  But time for her was growing short. Despite temporary immortality, she still had only one goal in mind-

getting back at Carnavus.
If men sided with him, they would fall prey to the same fate he would soon....

"One turns into a devil when they're put through Hell," she lamented, and whether he heard her words or not she didn't care.
"So how much am I worth to the slaver?"s he added later, goading on the subject of his own intents and she looked out into the expanse of desert around them.
As if he was much better than she, tieing her up and intending to bring her to the highest bidder.
As if he knew her real story....

But then again, he seemed so easy to accuse her of murdering...
perhaps, she thought, he was actually someone to do justice on her for what she had done to others.
The idea made her a bit queasy, though she remained silent, not liking be told she was the enemy when everyone in the world seemed to be on Carnavus's side.....

and then she began to think on it...
What would Rassar say?
Tears pricked in her eyes at recalling his face, and she kept her face averted from Castor's, lest he see the she-devil with flecks of tears...

[Lion]

It was not easy for Castor to condemn her as if she were a monster to be plucked from the world and tossed into the deepest darkest pit he could find.  If anything, perhaps he was the monster that deserved damnation most of all.  His eyes drifted over to Cynwulfen, hands of steel, made to crush, maim and kill, and anger boiled over.  Anger mixed with vile disgust; at everything but he knew most of that sensation was aimed at himself.  He had no right, and neither did she.  He didn't know the precise reasons why she killed and perhaps it didn't matter.

He listened to what she said.  A devil in hell.  That sounded just about right.  Maybe he didn't really believe in ghosts, but he knew there was more to this world than what was presently around them.  He was proof of it.  Maybe they weren't so different; and yet...  Did she not have a choice each day, to make her fate different better?  She was not bound to hell itself with the very power she wielded in her hands.  She had spoken of making men pay, that they were all monsters and deserved to burn for what they did.  Perhaps they did, but if he was guilty of any crimes, it was not the ones she accused him of.

"If you think you're worth your weight in gold...you'd be wrong," he replied.  "I'm just supposed to bring you back.  My employer has something that belongs to me, and your capture will settle the cost.  That little stint with the caravan was just to make it across this wasteland with ease.  What was that name you mentioned, Carnavus, was it?  Well, I would have signed on with anyone.  I'm not particularly sure who that is.  You, however, seem to know him very well.

"Whoever you really are.  It's more than clear you have plenty of unresolved issues."

[visualspice]

Zarrah made a noise when he mentioned she was meant for a barter.  But then thought it over. She began to wonder... perhaps her life was in exchange for another? It would be ironic if she had to give her life over for an innocent (or rather, one of her lives anyways). But the idea of it only added to the guilt as she kept her eyes cast towards the sands.

"I have nothing to live for," she said bitterly. "I don't care that I'm condemned to hell." She closed her eyes as she recalled her life to this point. She could have escaped, and had aimed to, with the aid of Rassar- and would have been well on her way far away from the desert when fate threw an unexpected wrench into their plan...
And she would never see Rassar again.
Perhaps she would never get her revenge, something she did not think about when she was cursed with her extra chances at life.
Perhaps she had taken it the wrong way..
maybe she should have went down another path...

She growled inwardly at herself as she tried her bonds, growing restless over her forced predicament to lament over her own wretched guilt. Yes, perhaps she deserved to be captured and taken in...


Sighing, she resolved, once again to her fate and thought over his comment about her name.

"People only see me as a ghost, or some sort of devil." She looked towards the twilight moving over head. "No one would care if you knew my name was Zarrah, or even if I had a story." She paused to think it over.  "No one cares who put the devil in you, except that you had become one."

[Lion]

"I've heard the stories," Castor commented.  "Frankly I didn't think they were true.  No woman I've ever known has gone out of their way to lure men for the sake of killing them.  But I suppose, I've never truly known a woman as hellish in her heart as you.  I only know any woman willing to kill a man for no particular reason at all is not someone to be tangled with."

Castor kept walking, though he did feel the weight of his legs begin to ache.  She mentioned her name and it seemed to suit her, the very sound of it.  "Somebody must care, or I wouldn't be here.  And you talk as if you're on the last leg of life.  I told you I have no intention of killing you.  I have no intention of hurting you.  But I know that if I let you go, you'll more than likely just try to run away."

He supposed he ought to tell her his name, but resolved that the less she knew about him the better.  But something unusual caught his attention.  There was more catching his ear than the sliding of the sleigh and the sound of his own footsteps.   He slowed down, and stopped.  As soon as he did, the sounds stopped too, obviously aware of his own movements.  "Listen," he whispered.  "Look behind me.  What can you see?"

[visualspice]

Zarrah didn't much care for being berated, but she hardly had the choice.  Then, after he was finished, he paused and became quiet.  She heard the noise as well. When he asked what she could see, her eyes slipped to the open desert behind them, and something in the shadow moved, and soon, four paws were rushing them.

"A leopard!" was all she said, as the beast lunged at him.
She could only pray their death might be swift, lest this fellow had a good handle on killing animals-

leopards were ruthless, and as far as she was concerned, she was a sitting duck, and would rather not have to become the dinner for some hungry animal.

[Lion]

Castor practically rolled his eyes.  As if this little excursion just couldn't get any worse.  He only heard the growl for a brief moment until he turned long enough to see the creature ready to pounce at him.  After that...well it seemed like everything just went in slow motion.  The creature was mid-air, claws unleashed ready to sink into unsuspecting, vulnerable flesh.

Then...well, if he thought it couldn't get any worse then, boy, he thought too soon!  The ground suddenly shook, and almost knocked him off balance as he watched in horror as another creature, a hundred the size of the leopard just suddenly thrust forward and just swallow it whole.  The darkness of night wasn't enough to conceal a creature this size.  Castore may not have come from the desert but he knew a sand worm when he saw one.

At that point, the gigantic worm was coming toward them and without needing to be told, he turned and started to run with all the strength that came to him, practically dragging Zarrah in the sand.  "FUUUUUUUCK!"