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Old 05-16-2003, 03:40 PM   #49
Sophia the Thunder Mistress
Scent of Simbelmynë
 
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Sting

Rysha glowered. The wight, Gaeriel, clothed in a semblance of her former self, cast her a contemptuous glance. "You are such a good little thrall aren’t you?" Rysha spit on the floor, raising her eyes to Gaeriel's. A small sneer twisted her face. She was more powerful than the lesser undead here. She didn't fear the wight, not with Gorthroth in the room. She was too valuable a servant for her master to lose for no reason.

But her master's next words rocked her. "I will lead the first group, with Gaeriel and Hermesin...and you!" he pointed at Kurzag who was just entering. "We will attack from the north passage. The rest of you, under Cersed will attack from the south." Rysha's eyes narrowed. She would be under Cersed? Commotion was erupting in all parts of the cave as the orcs and men argued over the best plans of attack.

Rysha stood stone still, casting a wary glance at the wights. She inched closer to Gorthroth, lowered her head and growled, "Master, I don't work with Cersed." her voice was angry. Rysha wasn't a plaything, to be passed back and forth between the undead creatures. She fingered the handle of her whip from habit. She had come far for this; sneaking into the caverns as an early teen she had defended herself, defended her territory, made all fear her. She had caught Gorthroth's attention by merit, she thought fiercely. She was Gorthroth's eyes and hands in the world. Not a pawn, an underling sent to serve another.

Gaeriel seemed to be watching this exchange with amusement. Rysha slowly controlled her facial muscles. She hated Gaeriel. Returning her glare to Gorthroth, she said again, "Master, why?"

Gorthroth's tone was irritated, and Rysha shivered in the cold air that rippled around him as he spoke. "You must watch Cersed," he said. "Make sure my treasure is safe. You are my strong right arm Rysha."

Her anger evaporating Rysha smiled. Gorthroth feared Cersed. This was information to tuck away for later. She flexed her fingers where they'd stiffened around her whip handle. His strong right arm... she mused, yes. Eyes narrowed in the dimly lit cavern she nodded.
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The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me!
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