Cersed almost hissed in disgust at the 'people' he had been given. Not that there were any better, he realized... Rysha, though he hated her, was a competent fighter, though he was sure he knew that Gorthroth hadn't placed his favorite in his rival's group by accident... the others were of no worth, really. Some he had seen before, hunting or just roaming, but nothing extraordinary. Still, he felt something that might have been called gladness that Gorthroth had taken Gaeriel into his own group... she annoyed Cersed infinitely. She was far too impudent for her own good. Ah well, he would teach her manners sometime.
He snapped back to his surroundings, glanced comtempuously at the orcs staring up at him, and at Rysha standing nearby, fingering her whip, and a piercingly cold but low voice floated out of the greenish cloud that he was, for now. "Come," he said, and began to float out the door. He stopped for a moment, deciding which side to hit from, who to put at the front, who at the back. He pushed himself into his former shape, as he knew Gorthroth and Gaeriel must have been doing as well, and half walked half floated out, a young black haired man with eyes that had once been jolly and green, but now shone with a terrible and ancient light that was far worse than darkness. He swept them over the group in his following once more, lingering on Rysha until she looked up, giving something that might once have been a derisive smirk, knowing she was the only one of the group who was not too scared of him to try something of her own, and curved past them all, his mind no longer on the people he had been given but on the deliciously entertaining task ahead.
[ May 18, 2003: Message edited by: GaladrieloftheOlden ]
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"Glue... very powerful stuff."
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