"GOL'KOSH!  WHAT PUNY LEGS SMALL GIRL DO?!" a gruff voice rumbled underneath the screech of jungle bugs.  The night had become stale, already giving way to the sun that begrudgingly climbed to its seat above the horizon.

"Aie~  S-s-s-sorry!  I-I-I-I--"

It was the timid squeak of a young girl, crying just after the gurgling growl of one of the more learned Orcish grunts that melted sloppily into common.  Was it yet another captured peasant girl?  Possibly a villager, or a traveling merchant too far off the beaten path?  Did the jungle even HAVE such paths?  Shortly after the frail squeak, a rumbling explosion rumbled against the serene trees and vines, clouds of pitch black smoke amongst orange flames churning into the dawn sky.  A few chunks of burning coals and metal streaked in steaming arcs, hissing into stagnant pools of murky water collecting into the damp soil.  The air stank of old mud and sweating loincloths, and the suffocating clouds of burning coal misted out from what looked like a man made cave with lazily stacked boulders and slabs puffing out most of the smoke.  The area seemed to damp to catch on fire easily, but quite a few embers lay glowing across the ground from the explosion.  As the smoke began to clear, only pillowing from the leaning boulders, the bodies of a few Orcs and what looked to be humans in some kind of cotton robe uniform lay across the ground.

"Kah...nnngh.  Ow.  That was tooo loud." the meek voice squeaked, almost singed by the popping flames of the nearby stacked boulders.  Amongst the littered mass of bodies strewn across the vines and trees, one of the humanoid figures crept to their knees.

"Hah...huu.  Oh porcupines.  Maybe I used a little too much Maronium in the Naptha." the voice squeaked again as the body stood upright.  A charred white cape crumpled to the ground, sweeping back and forth across a pair of soot-covered caramel tan legs.  The cape looked to be stretched out at the shoulders, a small glimmer of an iron shoulder armor perking from each side.  Was it a white Knight, caught in such a troublesome explosion so deep into the Quegan?  The smoke finally filtered enough from the trapping trees and vines to give a clear view of what lay against the jungle floor, almost a half-dozen bodies mangled and burned by nearby burning rocks that looked to be burning through their clothes.  The cape turned from left to right, a hand scratching confusedly into long cascades of leaf and twig infested black hair.  The figure began to zip back and forth between bodies, skipping over the fallen Orc corpses that quite obviously stared in twisted faces of death only to check on the assailed humans.  They looked to be mostly young folk, armed with straight edged blades with no guard to protect their hands, and only peculiar robes with cloth belts.  Certainly under armored to be around so many Orcs.

"Ooooh dear.  Oh my.  He's not breathing, he's not breathing.  Eeee!  He isn't either!  Soot soot soot!" squeaked the dashing figure, each time standing slowly to scratch at the black hair once again before checking another body.  The smoke finally cleared enough, barely a mist within the jungle aside from the smoldering coal rocks. 

"Maybe if I put it back into his...no...not working.  Not working.  Oh my."

It was a girl, and a young one at that.  Not a knight at all, but she certainly seemed out of place in such a disaster.  Her face was covered in soot, brushing her high cheekbones and slender, panic stricken black eyes into a darkened mess almost blacker than the mud.  Her protection was nothing but a rounded breastplate, dented sparingly with blackened streaks that could no doubt be from the coal embers that littered the ground.  No wonder some of the bodies lay still.  If the armor was dented that badly, there would definitely be swiss cheese made of some of the unfortunate humans.  A white longcoat draped over the girl's breastplate, bound with an iron clasp and collar that rose above her cheeks. It was just as dirty as her face, dusted with soot and a bit of collected mud at the bottom.  The only thing protecting her legs was bleached leather shorts, reaching just halfway to her thighs.  While she carefully laid down another body that would respond, a creepy grunt rumbled from within the pillowing black boulders.  It certainly was in pain, but the low growl and gurgling discontent in its voice didn't sound friendly at all.  Frozen at the end of a long, frightened gasp, the girl backed away while crouching as slowly and carefully as she could.

"PUNY LEGS!"

"Eep..."

From the broken apart slabs of rock, a lurch of crashing metal and the pounding of wood slowly dragged its way out of what looked to be a part of a blacksmith's forge, mostly an iron smelter that had been engulfed in flames.  Small blue rocks buzzed with sparks and flickering flames along the ground, one or two of them being crushed by a cracked Battle axe covered in soot and a few burned stains of old blood.  Two heavy feet stomped slowly behind the axe as its spike stabbed into the ground, one completely charred with leather burning to the skin and another with a burning hole near the toe.  Slow, tedius step by step, a rather heavily armor Orc lurched from the pillowing smoke with its free ham-fist waving away smoke, slinging two decapitated human heads by their long hair fish in a net.  It's shoulders were adorned by sharp fins of war iron, a belt of skulls lining either side of the black painted, somewhat scrapped breastplate that barely covered the singed, slightly scared wall of deep green muscle.  As soon as it's swooping gaze caught the small girl that was trying to edge away into the jungle, the enraged Orc spit to the ground while tossing the heads off to the ground.

"PUNY LEGS!  MRAG'KUL NAGH IRON SMELTER!  You stomp on Thruk Grembu's land now!  I will split your head into a gourd and DRINK your blood with my child at dinner!  You fool girl!  You kill servants, and you kill NEE JOHN SLAVES AFTER YOU GIVE THEM WEAPONS.  KEK KEK KEK, your stupidity will haunt you with every hook that I hang you with."

The Orc did not seemed slowed down by his injuries, though his left eye did lower with what looked like a painful wince.  As he lifted the battle axe from the ground, it showed to be much more.  For a few seconds, the spike stayed anchored within the ground as a chain covered with green, magically pulsing barbs before whipping to the axe's shaft.  The blade looked thicker than the girl's arm, covered with Elven runes of all things.  It would just as well crush her before it cut anything. 

"ZUG-ZUG!  Krall mash higa t-t-t-trash'kull MAK TAL GUTH!  It-it-it-itala GRUB TA!"

Thruk's face, as ugly and and warped as it was, showed an expression of pure confusion.  If one could bare to stare, it might have even been fear.  The sight and sound of the small desert girl, spitting out Orcish tongue so quickly just didn't sit right with him.  It was authentic, even her stuttering sounding in place, and try as she might, the squeaking girl could barely force her voice to be as gruff as it needed to be.  She sounded like a mouse.  After a few seconds, the Orc's face turned into a grin before slapping his brick wall stomach, chortling into the jungle as his armor and skulls shook violently.

"YOU!  Ohohoho, thraka grall!  Thraka kek grall!  Bohaha!  You sound like baby seal in tub of butter.  I may leave you alive just long enough to show wife.  Slaves might even get a good laugh out of you, Puny Legs.  ...Hnh." the Orc slowly looked back to the iron smelting bundle of rocks that slightly shifted, one more large boulder crushing to the ground as burning ashes flew to the sky.

"I suddenly angry again." 

As if the charred stubs for toes didn't bother him, Thruk stomped towards the girl as hard as he could, his great shoulders rattling left and right with the moist jungle soil slapping underneath his mostly burned boots.  The axe swung from left to right twice, its Elven runes humming loudly as small spheres of black and purple netherlight sailed around its sides.  Before he even came close to the girl, the spheres of light sailed towards her crouching body, ripping against the ground around her.  Booming explosions through dirty and ethereal flames around the girl, just missing her body as the edges of her cape became singed with a purple flame that died as quickly as it was born.  She shrieked, reaching underneath her white cape and pulling against a black rectangle, gripping underneath two silver wings of a hilt as the Orc came closer.  Thruk's axe fluttered through the air over his head, spun by one hand as it came down to the girl's cowering body. 

Ting.  Ting ting.

A thick blade of steel sang from the girl's sheath as her cape was thrown off in a frantic flail to draw.  As soon as the blade was free of it's house, the edge ferociously bit Thruk's axe with a clash chiming clearly as a bell.  His axe stopped, the runes flashing red with the counterstrike, and began to bounce back into the air as the girl's blade struck twice more. After the third strike, the girl held her blade flat underneath Thruk's overbearing axe, pushing back the boulder-beast's weapon with quivering arms.

"Hmmm...you not one of slaves.  Grud nama you steal this Elf sword from, Puny Legs?" Thruk grumbled, staring down at the struggling girl.  Though the murderous intent had gone from his arm, the girl was managing to hold away his axe.  An axe which probably weighed more than her.  If he hadn't been wary from the annoying pain in his foot, he would have overlooked what seemed to be luck.  She was struggling because of her boots slipping slowly within the wet soil, not because of his strength.

"...I...I--" She stammered, grunting in her mouse voice with both eyes squinting from the frantic strain.  The girl saw her blade slowly scratching down the edge of the Orc's axe, and his effortless stare looking at her with a raised, scratched and burned remnant of an eyebrow.  Thruk stepped back slightly, pulling his axe back to let the girl fall.  As soon as she lost her footing, falling forward towards the ground, the Orc slapped her away like a fly with the broad side of his axe.  She flopped to the ground only a few inches, rolling with her sword carefully held over her head with both hands.  Again the Orc stared at this frail looking farmgirl, turning his head to the side in wonder.

"Duromok.  They build human stronger and stronger every da--"

His confused mutter was cut short by a sound of breaking glass from the entrance of the iron smelter.  A few of the human bodies--correction--ALL of the human bodies had gone missing with the exception of two rather quick fellows covered in black, tightly tied garments.  They threw small glass bottles into the smelter, a few of them that prematurely broke splashing a liquid that trailed lines of fire behind them.  Thruk's mouth gaped as a billowing bubble of flames pushed from deep within the iron smelter, an explosion of shattered rock covering his body in harsh flames.  Though he stumbled and barely began to escape, a large chunk of rock blasted into his breastplate, another cracking the edge of his axe apart.  The girl shrieked and covered her head, watching the fleeing humans who looked to be her comrades escape.


- - - - -

The dawn crawled even stronger into the thickness of the jungle, and a peculiar noise of stone scraping against stone screeched within the small, mostly burned out but still smoking iron smelter.  A few sinkholes had been made, but the dampened jungle looked to be keeping the flames at bay.

"Aaaah, porcupines.  They left me without a map.  Maybe if I just head for the ocean...which way was the ocean?"

The girl was still at the site of the sabotaged iron smelter, her sword sheathed at her back within its rectangle housing and her cape almost completely darkened by soot.  She sat on her knees at the side of the slain Thruk, his chest pierced by his own breastplate and some of his green skin bruised purple by the rather large stone slabs around him.  The girl's large backpack had sat on the ground next to her with the top open, an occasional bloody tooth being tossed into it.  She was slowly tapping away the Orc's larger teeth, and grinding down the bloody roots.  As the last tooth worth pulling came out of Thruk's bleeding gums, the girl cupped his chin with one hand and leaned his head back, stretching the neck a bit with her tongue sticking out as she tried to position him just right.  When she was satisfied and had her hand safely out of the way, the girl unsheathed her longsword.

Min had been sitting down on a fallen log, thinking of the events that had transpired for the past few weeks. The small icy gears in her mind had started to turn, following a thread of thought and seemed intent to following it till it reached the inevitable slew of conclusions.

In the years she had spent in Tarsis, introspection and solving the mystery of who she was prior to her arrival had been her secret pursuit, albeit a reluctant one. Absent-mindedly, one hand drifted under the collar of her tunic and traced the outline of the top bit of her tattoo. She had seen it only when she took her showers, the dark lines merged to form clouds and somewhere, in the indistinct spaces, lay the fox eyes.

Thoughts had been bugging her since she left Poliho - the hows and the whys and most of all, the whodunnits... Surely, there must be something to connect the dots, the lines so she could see the big picture. Perhaps, she was missing something. Min looked at the sky, for a moment enjoying the darkness that slipped in between the vines, as her mind continued to work on the puzzle. The questions she had forced down in order to pursue her goal now surfaced with a vengeance. Why was Myrnal following her so willingly into Nijon? She might be a good person but mercenaries had their price, one that neither her parents nor her could afford. She also appeared the same night Min had approached Papilonn for answers. Myrnal had been unshakeable and all that paranoia and the... money. The money bothered Min. Myrnal didn't seem the sort to earn much but the expenses on this trip had been something that took her months to save up for... Perhaps, Myrnal was rich or something else that accounted for the spending power she had. But even then, she would have to take on another job to pay for this little holiday... unless this was the task.

No. Min bit her lip. It was simply ridiculous. After all, there were the others who had also appeared at a most convenient time. Calm down, Min... there are just too many leaps of logic here. Yet, still the thoughts remained. Stubbornly telling her that she was looking for answers in all the wrong places.

She sighed then paused, looking at Myrnal and then at the dagger's sheath at her hip, Demetri who seemed caught up in his own thoughts and Larkin, sipping what was left of his brandy... finally, Altair. Quiet, introspective Altair - only the gods knew what went on in that man's mind. But they all had their tales to tell, she was sure of it. The trouble of keeping an open mind was the distractions that popped up along the way to the destination and Minshara was finding it hard to figure out which was which. Her temples ached in frustration at the non-sequitor thoughts, her conscious mind unable to move as fast as something else in her head, and Min closed her eyes tightly to rid herself of the headache. The dagger's absence only amplified her confusion. Somehow, the answers all lay in the weapon.

“Gather your things. We move. Now,” Altair's voice jerked her back to the present.

Min stood up immediately. "I cannot leave now,' she said, her voice still frail. "I know it sounds completely silly... but I've lost my dagger and I must retrieve it."

"We have people after us," Larkin reminded her as he got ready, already following Altair's turned back.

"You don't understand," Min spoke slowly. "I need that dagger. It is of utmost importance to me that I get it back."

Larkin made a move toward her only to be restrained by one of their companions. "You're barking mad, woman!" he growled. "No one in their right mind would go back after what happened!"

Min looked at the guide squarely in the eye and then leveled her gaze at the others who were present. "I was going to sneak off but thought I probably wouldn't succeed because I trust most of us here know a thing or two about sneaking around. So this isn't open to discussion and I'm certainly not asking for anyone's permission here. That dagger is extremely valuable and important to me and I have a feeling... a really strong one, that its only going to get more important when I reach Nijon. Here's the thing. I think I know how to get to Nijon from here and if I find any guards, I sure as hell can talk my way into the country. So the way I see it, I'm going to go back, find it and get to Nijon later."

This gut feeling better be worth the answers...

Min picked up her backpack, expecting the others to really go ahead without her. She couldn't say that she was surprised Myrnal invited herself along for another personal shenanigan. "I was thinking of heading back to our previous campsite. I know the one who attacked me kicked it into the undergrowth so I guess we'll start there."

She gave Larkin a sharp nod and paid him the rest of his fee. Minshara looked to Altair and Demetri, "I suppose this is where we part ways. It was lovely getting to know what little I know of you both. I hope the circumstances are much kinder if we meet next."

"He kicked it somewheres here," Min prodded about in the undergrowth. She tried looking for the slight glint of silver but none was seen. Since they were going to be here a while and no one's around, she decided to drop the questions.

"Myrnal? Why are you following me? I mean... it's odd, you know. This trip is expensive and my parents definitely can't afford your fees and you hardly know us to do anything this nice for total strangers. So I was just wondering... if there's anything I might want to know about. Like... I'm not going to mince my words but are you working for someone and the task involves me?"

"Papilonn," Min said without a need for a confirmation. Now, it changed things. Of course, it would have been better if Myrnal had lied to her about it. It would have certainly vilified her in Min's eyes and made getting angry at her much easier. But she hadn't and in fact, had been as truthful and replied as if she had only asked for the time of day.

She rubbed her temples with a forefinger and a thumb, deciding not to look at Myrnal and instead continue to focus on finding her weapon. Yet, a small feeling of distrust unfurled within her. She kept her facial expression still and was careful to control the tone of her voice, masking her uncertainly completely. "Well, she has a personal investment in my well-being. I suppose, I should've known... it was a pretty textbook case. And here I thought, that the task you took up might have been taken up by the two men we left behind... which makes me glad that I was wrong," she cringed a little, remembering the leaps of logic her previous soliloquy had taken when Altair told them to move on.

"Don't get all prissy on me. It's not as if I didn't take that into account. You're not exactly subtle," Min countered, standing up to face her. "I just don't like the woman... and I mean dislike so strong it almost borders on hate. Besides, why the hell should I tell you about what my issues are with her when I know next to nothing about you? You have knives enough to supply an army. One of the people after me is your acquaintance... in fact, they're all your acquaintances... From the goblins to that Ashigara chap. So even if you're not associated with Papilonn, you're definitely linked to my pursuers... so where does that leave me, Myrnal? Personally, if I were you, I'd prefer being linked to the brothel madam whom you think is trying to help than the low level scum sent to kill me."

She didn't talk much to Myrnal. In fact, her speech had been more functional as opposed to seeking out friendship. "As much as I don't like dealing with that woman - damn good reasons for doing so, if you've known her as long as I have, - I know more about her than I do about you... Better to deal with the bastards you know than the ones you don't. Only this time, the bastard I know sends someone else I have no idea about and is harder to decrypt than an ancient text and everyone after me seems to know you in the bargain. Its convoluted and honestly, I don't know what the hell to make of it."

"In the course of a few days, I've been chased from my house, my cat was slaughtered, I've been kidnapped once, strangled twice, manhandled and tossed into a cart, had more than a dozen people sent after me, and those are just the ones that I know of... and let's not forget that prior to this, I've nearly drowned -- All of this because of some memories in here... " Min pointed to her temple as she continued to count off her fingers as she spoke. "That I can't get access to... So yes, I think I have every right to have a 'paranoid freak out' on you after being so damn logical about it since day one, seven bloody years ago!"

She took a deep breath and composed herself, feeling the warmth receeding from her cheeks as she finished her rather vehement speech. Min smoothed her hair, tucking the curls behind her ears and crouched low in the undergrowth, resuming her search.

The problem was, Min decided, was the fact that she hadn’t asked any questions. Sure enough, up till now, it was her quest and she had gone about it in the most single-minded effort that she had ever mustered without even realizing it.

So to concede a logical point to the obviously agitated mercernary, she might have been a spoiled little bitch but up till now, she hadn’t insulted Myrnal with any sort of stinking garden variety vulgarities. Minshara hated vulgarities, almost as much as arguements and antagonistic confrontations. She hated them with vengeance although the worst she had ever used were ‘bastard’… and that was probably the only word on her list of often used vulgarities. She preferred gutting them with a more civilised and painful verbal evisceration.

Min curled her fists and stuffed them in the pockets of her pants.  Her thin, reedy voice dropped a pitch a notch and spoke each deliberately chosen word clearly.

“I haven’t asked because I know what its like not to tell people certain things about me. I never asked and you never told, if honesty was that bleeding important to you. It takes one to know one, Myrnal… if that’s even your real name. There are questions, mundane to others that bring out the most horrible memories people like us have to contend with on a daily basis. Look at yourself, you’ve got issues and I hope that I’m dead wrong, considering you’re a perfect stranger, because it would so suck to be you. By the way, your demeanor and exterior make asking questions more painful than sitting on heap of stinging nettles barebottomed!”

There was no way this chick was going to call her a spoiled little… and get away with it. “And don’t think I didn’t catch that whole ‘you know what for, Altair’ quip just before we left… what the hell was that about? So you’ve reached the end of your rope. Why are you still here? You’re insane? I don’t think so…”

Minshara took a deep breath. She was probably going to get killed in the Quegan for even thinking the words that were going to spill out of her mouth next but said them anyway, “I never asked you to come along and I’ve always let you know how grateful I was that I had you to watch my folks and back. But I never asked you to do all those extra things. Why did you do it? Out of the goodness of your heart? It’s more complex than that, isn’t it?”

“I think you think you did something really terrible in your past… something so horrible it completely forced you to change certain beliefs and put up permanent walls to keep the monsters in your head in. Not to keep other people out. It’s to keep whatever it is you’ve got festering in that bleeding heart of yours in, just in case… But it never really leaves you alone, never shuts up, does it? I bet it echoes all day long especially when you’re all alone…”

“So accept this crazy sounding mission, one of many, to protect someone who can’t take care of herself on a journey with 90% fatality rate because it pretty much mirrors whatever it was that scarred you and in some small way, you think this would make up for the mistake you made way back then. And if you got stabbed or shot or thrown off some cliff, in your last dying moments you could tell yourself that your life had finally amounted to something, that your death was not wasted… That’s the truth of it, whether you like it or not.”

“I'm not jerking you around - you voluntarily put yourself through worse crap than what I supposedly do to you. But I’ll tell you what I don’t want – a martyr. And here’s what I want: I want to get to Nijon to find out the whys to this whole affair, my dagger, my parents – both sets- to be alive. I want you breathing and in one piece after this is over and… I want to get back to becoming a physician. Above all, what I want is the truth and my life as I knew it. While you might want to die for your truth, I think mine is too precious to die for.”

"And I'm f%$#@*& sorry for everything piece of godsdamned shit I put you through, right? I'm really sorry... in more ways than one."