Blood of the Serpent

Vabbi smells good, and I think that somewhere inside me I noticed.

But I didn’t care.

It’s been.. a long time. I was in the Mists. With my master. Time was eternal, and I think even my sister believes me dead.

Just as well if she thinks I am.

My face looks different - master stopped me from trying to cut it off once, but there was damage done. He mended me, but there’s scarring. A lot of it.

I find I like looking at my scarred face.

It’s so stupid to let one person shatter you this badly, but maybe falling into master Malaam’s hands was good after all. He showed me what he always knew about me: that I needed to be owned.

I kill when he bids me, and bring him the flesh he wishes to experiment upon.

And now he’s bid me go to Vabbi to prepare his way, riding things he created for me from caged spirits and dead flesh.

A part of me is very amused about it all.

A part of me stopped screaming long ago and that’s probably for the best.

Actions existing from long past Roots stemming from centuries past From centuries ago we We are nomadic herders From the time of Chingis Khaan Steppe warriors united Beating the drums of war Unified all the tribes Felt-core Mongols have Centuries full of history Under the strings of sacred Khuur (string instrument) Mongolian spirit moves Still training our horses Great Mongolian warriors From the painted steppes We headed in four directions.

Yeah, the guy who worships the sky, that’s me The proof of my ancestors, that’s me The strength of it, that’s me Cut down dumbasses using this, I will Conquered half of the world And now I keep its flame I keep it in my heart My country, land, water and herds Truthfully, next to my ancestors, these MCs are nothing What do I lack? I can do anything and own it Under the arrows of eternal blood half of the world knelt Not by the bow but by the books the world judges intelligence

Let’s (haha couldn’t catch this word) Let’s practice our drive, Let’s race the black foal Let’s pull on the reins Let’s sacrifice to the spirits Let’s draw our swords Let’s destroy our enemy Let’s ride out east

Blue Mongol has the sky The steppe has the world Blue-spotted Mongols Prayed to it (sky) for eternity Has been a partner to our allies Has been a danger to evil doers Still worshipping our black banners Became the owners of darkness Now let us unite our country Let us unite all the Mongolic nations Echoing the trampling of our powerful horses Ride out to foreign lands for war Fixing our surroundings Bringing peace to our nation Display the strength of the nation state For history to remember for centuries on end.

We should be proud of ourselves For we are Mongol blood We should be its owners Of our land and water. Dissolved into foreign blood, The myth overspills Never been under others Torturer, I have a raging fury. Put me in front of anyone, My history will dwarf theirs Even though I’m alone I will still be proud all over the planet Descendants of Huns, us Mongolians Let’s demonstrate the strength of our ancestors, the rulers of heavens

Our ancestors who left us our history, they are our gods It is time for new Mongolia, we will make the future happen Greatness of Mongolia began with just one man, our Khaan Keeping its flame is our duty, through our mind and intellect.

((Vocals))

I still miss him.

I’m a fucking idiot to miss him. He was a gods-damned asshole to me. He left me for some man-slut who won’t ever, ever love him as much as I did.

I wasn’t good enough for him. I wanted to marry him and it wasn’t enough.

Everything I was, could be, wasn’t as valuable as being in that priest’s ass.

Fuck him.

.. oh gods I miss him even now.

Costel Travere. Bandits. ‘Criminal Elements.’

And I’m being asked to work with some prissy pencil-pusher going down a rabbit hole that might lead to a Dhuum’s fart of a hellhole.

I really hope it’s ONLY Seperatists. Honestly.

Time to shave and start looking more generically Canthan, I suppose.

The Mists swirled about her, fluttering the silken veil and ornate headdress of this reality.

The card shifted into reality in her hand, and Boerte Khenbish sighed, and let reality change as she slid from one potential timeline to another less occupied.

From a Tyrian history dominated by Luxons to one bereft of nearly all life.

Time certainly to read a letter.

When the chronomancer and Mistweaver was finished, she folded her arms and let possibilities flow through her, tasting each.

He was afraid of her and he felt intense guilt.

It was almost funny.

Someone else to seduce me for once? And not just fucking. Seduction. Careful, deliberate, and romantic.