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 :)