Escape from Nurn RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Envinyatar · 04-21-2003, 02:03 PM

‘Fionel.’ That was her name, he thought. He recognized her, from the fields and once he recalled he had seen her serving at Ekatran’s house. No wonder she had been chosen for the hunt. Ekatran wanted to be rid of her.

‘I wonder what she knows of him, having been in close contact with him and his family. Servants often know more about their masters than their masters think they could. She could be useful.’ A fleeting smile came and went on the smooth features of his face.

His mind worked over the slave – late teens he thought, very near his daughter’s age; too thin, as were all the slaves; but the thinness belied strong muscles produced by years of hard work. He wondered what sort of weapon she was skilled with. ‘A long knife would fit in that one’s hands, I think.’

Envinyatar made his way back to his quarters. He opened the pack into which he had placed his cache of weapons. His eyes narrowed as he counted the number and kind in each compartment. Perhaps a few more, he thought. A cushion of steel for his plans . . .

[ April 22, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

04-21-2003, 02:03 PM	#11
Envinyatar Quill Revenant Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: Wandering through the Downs..... Posts: 849	‘Fionel.’ That was her name, he thought. He recognized her, from the fields and once he recalled he had seen her serving at Ekatran’s house. No wonder she had been chosen for the hunt. Ekatran wanted to be rid of her. ‘I wonder what she knows of him, having been in close contact with him and his family. Servants often know more about their masters than their masters think they could. She could be useful.’ A fleeting smile came and went on the smooth features of his face. His mind worked over the slave – late teens he thought, very near his daughter’s age; too thin, as were all the slaves; but the thinness belied strong muscles produced by years of hard work. He wondered what sort of weapon she was skilled with. ‘A long knife would fit in that one’s hands, I think.’ Envinyatar made his way back to his quarters. He opened the pack into which he had placed his cache of weapons. His eyes narrowed as he counted the number and kind in each compartment. Perhaps a few more, he thought. A cushion of steel for his plans . . . [ April 22, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ] __________________ ‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’ – Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'