Day One - Hours Left [9/12]He describes the two men he seeks while carefully pulling the sleeve of his robe back down, making sure the mark on his arm is completely covered.
Do you remember anyone of such a description? He hisses sibilantly. His tone dripping with a sarcastic patience so fatal that it makes your blood run cold. You fold your hands behind your back to hide their nervous twiddling whilst you rack your memory for the two suspects. You can't seem to remember anyone of said description. You glance at Kensham, and he shakes his head quickly, his eyes narrow as he watches the two riders closely, despite their identification.
His suspicion is understandable. The Sultan's seal is seldom seen except by fellow nobility, and thereby the rationale is that if someone has it inked onto their arm it
has to be genuine. You're busy wondering why the Sultan's Eyes still operate on such a boneheaded practice when one of said boneheads begins talking again.
Well. He remarks wanly, his voice still deadly quiet.
If that's all then, I suppose we'll be on our way. He reins his horse in and prepares to ride around you.
You consider the facts. They claim to be the
Sultan's enforcers, his
Eyes, an organisation, while not widely known, is still lethal enough to have a reputation, especially amongst
professional soldiers and
courtiers. The leader showed you a
tattoo, one he claimed to be in the shape of the
Sultan's seal. While this would be valid as a permission of port, neither you nor any of your men have ever seen said seal before, and wouldn't know it from a common scribble. While the Sultan's Eyes are boneheads, they are also extremely fatal boneheads, as evidenced by their reputation. The only one they've ever had. If you executed a pair of commoners, or even a wealthy merchant or two, no one would give it a second thought. But if two of the Sultan's operatives were to go missing on your watch? Questions would surely be asked. There's a lot of open desert, and no one would ever find a quickly dug grave in the swirling wasteland, but a single misstep when the Communications Major comes by, and you and your entire post will find their heads on a well-used block.
IF they're genuine that is.. All the information spinning around in your head is starting to make your head hurt, but you need to make a decision.
---
Station
Captain's Hut - A dried clay building that has a bed, a desk for important documents and a heavy wardrobe with a lock for clothing, weapons and other important items, as well as a wooden door for added privacy and safety
Barracks - A squat, open building made from wicker packed dirt that can comfortably house 20 men; also used to store arms and supplies
Small Tower - Three tall logs leant against one another and lashed together at the top; provides a vantage point for guards
Prison Box - Safely accommodates 1 prisoner
Well - A hole in the ground where water is drawn from
Personnel
--8 Green Militia--
Assal - Spear
Lola - Spear
Hon - Scimitar
Plisk - Autorifle, Scimitar
Jamai - Scimitar
Ghorma - Scimitar
Kensham - Laspistol
Haru - Marksman Pattern Lasrifle
Stores
Total Inventory
2 Spears
6 Scimitars
1 Lasrifle, Marksman Pattern
1 Laspistol
1 Autorifle
1 Starved Horse
1 Healthy Horse
In Storage
2 Scimitars
1 Silk
2 Fruit Wine
Procedure
- Allow merchants and natives
- Run the poor off
- Deal with others as you see fit
- Honour the Sultan
Name: Azdna Shey
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing as tall as most men and with wiry muscles hiding beneath her skin of deep-bronze, not many suspect Azdna as female on the first glance. Her deeply inset pair of amber eyes is always ringed with black mascara - obviously needed in such a hostile enviroment. The smallish nose and lips might create a sense of womanly charm, were it not for the near-constant frown of the eyebrows that dissipate them from doing so. Reaching over the shoulderblades, her coalen hair is finely braided in a multitude of strands - and bound with a strip of leather, as not to impede in combat.
Background: Hailing from the streets of the sultanates capital, Azdna made her hardy living as cutpurse, take-and-run, occasional burglary - you name it. A small clash of daggers with a fellow street-urchin somehow acquired her the interest of a merchant, who after a few weeks of gauging and gaining her loyality (mostly through meals, mind her), set her up as his daughters' private guard - not trusting men to do so in fear of possible tarnish. After one was successfully and honourably married of some years later, the same merchant got Azdna a place with the guards. Let's just say that her insight and somewhat underhanded methods of fighting and going about things gave rise to some sort of recognition. Not one that did her good, with things being as they are now.
Scimitar
Autorevolver
Order Deposition
Author
Topic: (TSG) Station Day - Day One, Arrival (Read 9892 times)