Nomad in a new Land (closed)

Senka

The last of her kind... A relic... A nomad. A destroyer with no enemies left to destroy. The four kingdoms of her homelands had found peaceful accord. Clearly deciding peace was better than extinction at the hands of which ever nomadic death the others were able to hire. That is what her people had been for centuries... Nomadic death. Men and women trained nearly from birth to kill. No one knew where they came from even they had lost any tales of a homeland or anything like that centuries ago. They were different from any of the other kingdoms long lived but now there was only one... That anyone knew of.

Little did she know that her people were not exactly mortal nor that there was to always be at least one of her kind in the world always. Long lived they had originally been the line of defense between the Gods and mortals against anything that sought to destroy them. Then their lineage became warriors to protect Goes from humans and humans from Gods... Then what most conscious history knew them as... Ruthless killers... Assassin's... Destroyers... Death...

When the lands further west became known she eventually traveled there. All of the grasslands and strangely clad people who seemed both terrified and curious of her at the same time were very different than home but in all truth she had no home. Sitting in one of the taverns in this strange land she seemed to fascinate a young child who would try to talk to her and once the child had her name seemed to introduce her to everyone in the little village. The adults seemed somewhat fearful of her especially with the swords and weapons she carried but the child seemed far more interested in the "pretty pictures" on her arms hands face and neck. The child determined to hold her hand tracing the patterns with his little finger as some armor clad soldiers rode past. She however passively observed the men covered in armor as one word danced in her mind about their bulky armor... Cowards.

The little one speaking after pausing at one of her tats.

I know someone with a scar that looks like this. Wanna meet him Miss Senka?
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Enough...

He walked over as the guards stopped and bowed to the young man walking closer. Senka still stood ready both swords in hand as she eyed the situation as if a tigress ready to fight.

I have never known of any woman who could fight like that... Much less with the tenacity and chess like forethought. Who... Who are you? And what do you feel you defend this child from.

He noticed the scared child behind her pointing to one of his guards.

The child being as any child sought to retrieve his ball and your "soldier" nearly ran the child over then dared go after the child when his horse threw him as not to harm the child.

Is this true?

He turned sharp knowing there were some hotheads in his soldiers ranks. The men who where not nursing wounded egos cuts and ribs nodded.

Such actions will not be tolerated men. Forgive them young one.

He nodded to the child and looking back to this woman wielding two swords and clearly not the clothing of theand under her cloak. He looked into those dark eyes and saw the compassion balanced with a venom for battle had had never seen before in anyone.

Please I would be honored if you would join me for my tour of the lands.

The child tugged on her hand.

It okay miss Senka lady I will tell momma to keep some food warm for you when you get back.

The child seemed to have lost his initial fright as Marcus Agrippa spoke with the well-armed woman. The wounded men groaned and moaned behind them as his retainers tended to them; none looked to have suffered a permanent injury although it would be a long time before any of them was ready to serve again.

Marcus looked at the woman standing in front of him. He had never seen a woman fight like that but the markings across body tickled at his memory. He had seen such markings before, years ago. Back then they had been worn by an old man. Marcus and his compatriots had been drinking in an inn in some backwater town. The silver-haired man had been drinking at the bar; all the while the locals had been eyeing him askance. The old man’s appearance had unnerved them, and it had been close to midnight before they worked up the courage to confront him. The fight had been short, and eight men lay dead. The old tattooed man walked out of the inn, still drinking from his tankard which he had not even bothered to put down while slaying the men.

Marcus shook his head, clearing his thoughts and looked at the woman, hearing her name as the child spoke.

“Miss Senka, I am Marcus Agrippa.” He gave a slight bow. “Do you ride, Miss Senka? I could have a horse brought for you if you would like to join my tour.”

Miss Senka has a pretty horse. He has lots of hair and all she has to do is whistle... Watch...

Senka whistled two short whistles and a tall sleek black Arabian stallion walked over from the tavern barn. Seeing strangers near its owner and little friend the horse seemed to puff up a little but stood it's ground.

This is Makmood. I said it I said it Miss Senka...

She just smiled to the child and sent him back to the tavern to his mother. She leaped onto the back of the horse

Let's go.

The woman had an impressive horse. Marcus Agrippa had not mastered the art of whistling for his horse and had to make do with calling for his retainers. They brought forward his horse, a dark bay Nisean mare and Marcus clambered on top easily. A hunting bow and a quiver of arrows were fastened to the saddle.

“I will not be requiring your escort,” Marcus said to the captain of his guard.

“But my lord-,” the captain started to say.

Marcus cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “I doubt that Miss Senka here intends to do me harm.” He paused. “And from what I see here I doubt they would be of much help to me if she did intend to do some harm.”

Turning his horse around, Marcus pulled up alongside Senka. “We will be heading north, heading for the mountains.” He said pointing the way, towards the tall, imposing mountains that dominated the skyline to the north. “From there we will head east along the Yaruga River. There are a few settlements along the way that I want to visit.”

She nodded looking where he pointed then to the guards and back to the tavern before motioning her horse to begin walking.

Then let us go.

They started out at a slow walk before Marcus increased the pace. The road to the north was empty of traffic and Marcus let his horse run. He wasn’t surprised to see Senka’s horse keep up with his.

“Do you race, Miss Senka?” Marcus called over to her.

A smirk played over her lips as she whistled again and the Arabian stallion took off running. The cloak blowing open more revealing the "armor" she wore as little more than leather straps of varying width intermingled with pieces of chainmail with intricate tat work over most of her body as well as a few scars from battles past.

Marcus bit back a curse as Senka and her horse raced past him. Her horse looked like it was fast and now it proved to be so. The mare Marcus was riding was fast but she was built for stamina more than speed and Senka and her horse quickly outstripped him. He bent low and urged his mount to go quicker but he knew that unless Senka decided to stop her wouldn’t catch her.

She in time slowed her horse. Desert horses were speed in a physical body as well as a stamina only the desert could give but here him these European countries the lands we're very different. Makmood did not seem to like the idea of stopping but did so watching the mare and her rider get closer.

Marcus gave a sigh of relief as Senka slowed down and stopped. He brought up his horse alongside hers and stopped.

“That is a good horse and you are a good rider.” Marcus grinned at her. Her cloak had pulled back, revealing more of the tattoos on her body. Marcus couldn’t help but stare; she wore little in the way of clothing other than the cloak.

We are bonded with a horse from birth and taught to ride from the moment we can stand. Makmood is the son of my first horse.

She noted his stare.

You have never seen anyone with less armor than those walking turtles your kind call soldiers have you? How can they fight in such "armor"?

A sneer in her voice at the word armor.

They can't move well yet this is how they fight? Are they fearful children afraid to draw blood or bleed in battle?

“Soldier, as you said. They are soldiers, not warriors.” Marcus countered her words softly.
“They do not wear armour because they are cowards or children. Soldiers do not fight alone. They rely on teamwork and the protection provided by their armour in battle instead speed and movement. They are drilled in tactics and strategy and they drill until they can move in formation in their sleep.”

Marcus nodded towards Senka. “You are a warrior and probably the best I have seen but say you were standing at one end of a field, staring down a cavalry charge, how would you fare? I grant that you could kill a dozen or so but they will overwhelm you in the end. But a platoon of soldiers in their armour armed with shields and pikes could stand the charge and drive them off.”

Perhaps... Just seems too bulky...

She shrugged and continued to ride. Looking around these European lands seem so strange and the people seemed to find d her just as strange.

Perhaps... Just seems too bulky...

She shrugged and continued to ride. Looking around these European lands seem so strange and the people seemed to find d her just as strange.

“The bulk helps to withstand a charge and stand their ground.” Marcus said as he urged his horse after Senka. “Tell me, Miss Senka, why are you travelling these lands?”

Some of the farmers working the fields stopped and watched as rode along. Marcus wore only a simple jerkin and pants; the like a soldier might wear and people did not recognize him. However Senka drew their eyes.

The four kingdoms my the lands I dwelled in before found peace among themselves so with no need of them seeking g to employ me and having no real people and land of my own I chose to travel. See if work could be found elsewhere. So far that has only found me the boy at the in tracing my markings and people staring and shocked at how much I can drink.

She shrugged.

Even Makmood grows bored till our race.

“The four kingdoms, you say. I don’t recall hearing of any such land but the world is vast, is it not? So much unexplored. I would very much to travel to your lands.”

He paused. “So are you a mercenary then, Miss Senka? Looking for work? I can always use a good warrior.” Marcus asked, “And what about your people; are a lot of your people warriors? And do they hire themselves out as mercenaries?”

He smiled. “That is understandable. You are quite striking and stand out among the peasantry and not just because of your fighting skills.”

A few wagons loaded with grain and produce from the farms appeared on the road and Marcus nudged his horse to the side of the road along with Senka to let them pass. They were now approaching one of the settlements on the banks of the river. The stretched along the banks of the river, a wooden bridge over the fast flowing water. The traffic grew heavy and Marcus and Senka were forced to slow their pace.

What is this Miss that the child's mother told him to say for starters? As for the four kingdoms I speak of the desert lands to the east. Mercenary is one of many names I have been called. As for any more of my kind I am the last that I know of. As for hiring me what need have you in hiring death? I have seen no wars here since I have arrived in these lands.

She slowed her horse as they walked over the bridge.

Marcus laughed. “’Miss’ is a title attached to the names of unmarried women.”

He was silent for a moment after Senka said she was the last of her kind as their horses walked over the wooden bridge. The sounds from the people; merchants, innkeepers and farmers, echoed over the water.

“You are right, there are no wars in this land. We have had peace for decades here and we have managed to bring a semblance of peace to the lands we govern. However, to the north and west, there are rumours of a gathering of tribes. I am planning to lead an expedition to the north soon; just to see if there is any truth to these rumours.”

Marcus pulled his bay close to the black stallion Senka rode. “I am not looking to hire you into my army but rather as my personal bodyguard.”

Not exactly the bodyguard type. Tend to leave too many bodies. Plus I can't exactly keep this cloak on forever and I doubt my true armor would be received well by the elite of these lands.

She shrugged and watched the people around them carefully. Clearly seeing all the people and the clear division of wealth and this elite here watching their young king with a tattooed stranger.

Marcus grinned. “I will be happy if the bodies you leave behind are the bodies of those who are trying to kill me.” He shrugged, “As for your armour people won’t dare disrespect you once you show them your skill. Plus there will even fewer who would dare to criticize someone who is among my bodyguards.”

Nearing the town centre, some of the people recognized Marcus and called out greeting and Marcus responded with a nod and wave.

DESERT DEATH!!!!

Someone was charging towards them... Toward her

Marcus heard the shout and his soldiering instincts took over. The bow on his saddle was in his hand in an instant, an arrow nocked and drawn.

She had leaped down the cloak thrown off as she prepared to fight. She dismissed all the muttering and mumbling about her armor or her showing off too much skin etc.

Desert death!!!! Leave these lands... Free from the poisonous venom which spawned you.

As Marcus reading his bow, Senka jumped off her horse, slipping loose from her cloak. A part of his mind to into consideration the near naked woman in front of him but the military part of his brain was too much concerned with how she was getting in the way of his shot.