[Ransom]

Sandor began to prance and play small pranks upon her rider as they road through the narrow streets of capitol of Rohan. She was a well bread warhorse, able to bear the weight of knights as they thundered across battlefields and withstand the sounds and smell of slaughter. Ransom Deviolana smiled to himself, glad that his mount was enjoying herself. Meanwhile, the Blademaster of the White Tower began to pick his way toward the White Horse Inn. Perhaps he’d find word his target there. Than again, perhaps it would be like most of his other stops-pleasant but fruitless. He sighted and removed his cloak, running through his black hair with his gauntlets while gazing at the locals with his black eyes. The road was ever long, and his quarry ever careful.

Ransom dismounted and lead the horse into the stable, going through the normal routine of caring for his mount. Soon, Sandor found herself chewing on some straw while absentmindedly killing the last few flies of the season with her tail. Her blue cloaked master smiled and tipped the stable boy to ensure proper care before quietly walking to the inn. He entered as inconspicuously as he could, covering the considerable amount of metal he wore (and used) with his large and heavy cloak. Still, the various clinks and bangs, not to mention the sword clipped on his belt.

[ November 25, 2002: Message edited by: Ransom ]