The convoy expects to be out of Yemenen lands by sometime tomorrow, and the Laosians are looking forward to being home soon. Some of them are nervous about travelling so late in the year; apparently the storm season is severe in Laos and they don't want to be caught in one the storms.
But for now, the convoy is taking a break for lunch. Lauryn is near the road, seeing to her drokar. She doesn't need to do anything for the animal; they've got servants for menial labor. But Archon Skotonys often spends a little extra time grooming his mount and hand-feeding it, so there's nothing wrong with it. More significantly, Lauryn's drokar has become very friendly and affectionate with her rider, and it's nice to keep company with something that's actually obviously happy to have her around.
"If you only knew," Lauryn whispers as she idly combs her mount. Perhaps, she wonders, it is the simple servant who will serve her best in life; anyone with sense and freedom would surely end up on the more unpleasant side of that blurry dicotomy of prey and ally her relationships possess. Then again, she wonders, is being her ally really that much better? She shrugs -- either way, it's their fate and hers, and she has since stopped worrying much about it.
In the middle distance, down the road, a small group approaches: four Yemenos in teams of two, each team pulling a cart, and a fifth Yemenos walking alongside. They're easily overlooked at first, but as they get nearer one of the Yemenos catches Lauryn's eye. First, because the Yemenos is an unusual color -- most of the felines are tawny, in shades from pale gold to medium brown, but this one looks to be white, at least where her fur isn't grey with road dust. Second, because she's struggling to do her share of the work while a much larger Yemenos man pulls the cart alongside her. Lauryn watches them approach, standing with her drokar in the shadow of one of the trees planted around the traveler's shelter. They're about a dozen or so yards away when the white Yemenos stumbles. The man pulling the cart with her sighs heavily and stops, while the Yemenos with them rounds on the girl and starts yowling at her, volume and pitch rising in anger.
It might be said Lauryn readies herself for danger, but in reality Lauryn never really stops expecting something bad is about it happen. It is the burden of her magic that makes her both expect the worst and steel herself against it, because her abilities demand nothing less than vigilance. After all, sometimes that 'bad thing' about to happen is her. She guides her mount to the tree and takes a moment to secure it, making sure the reigns are not too tight incase she must depart quickly. With the political instability between the Yemenos and her Laosian allies, even a harmless looking cart could be a trap in the making. So, Lauryn watches for now.
No one in the Yemenos group appears to be interested in Lauryn. The other three cart pullers set down their harnesses with looks of resignation or annoyance, while the -- foreman? master? -- howls at the fourth. Lauryn doesn't speak the Yemenen tongue, but there are some words she's learned to recognize during her long stay. Two of them she picks out of his diatribe: "demon" and "cursed". The Yemenos have called her those words, too.
The -- servant? slave? -- cringes and mumbles something in an obsequious and soothing tone. Whatever she said isn't soothing enough, however, because the master draws some kind of reed or cane whip from his side and starts raining blows upon the head and shoulders of the girl. The white-furred feline cowers, mewling in pain and trying to shield her face with her arms.
The whole situation reveals itself to be another sort of intrique in Lauryn's mind, and it puts her in mind of both herself and a woman she barely knew: her mother. By the accounts of her step sibbling and step mother, her mother was a 'malcontent,' a 'good for nothing,' maidservant within her father's household. She wonders if her own mother suffered such abuse before or just after her birth, because she was not present in the years she can remember. All Lauryn knows of her was a small, ragged doll the woman had apparently sewn for her, and that ... Lauryn shakes her head; she hasn't time or patience for painful memories. The whole act of remembering her own family -- which she had hoped to forever forget here in Laos -- puts her in a sour mood, as well as a vengeful one. Though she cannot reach her step family, her eyes settle on other targets she might torment -- and maybe even one she might help. "Well, you've been good to me, at least," the sorceress tells her drokar, patting it before she begins
... towards the scene. Without hesitation she demands of the apparent foreman, "You will stop."
If nothing else, the question distracts the man from administering the beating. The foreman turns to Lauryn with a snarl as his servant sinks to her knees, shuddering and curled in a ball. "What she care? Not her curse!" he growls at Lauryn in broken and badly accented Laosian. He raises the long reed-lash in an unmistakeably threatening gesture.
Lauryn blinks at the raised lash a moment, then suddenly laughs! "I could have the lot of you killed! Have you perhaps seen my armed guard," she says after she manages to stop her derisive reaction, gesturing back at the array of armed men not far up the road. "But I hardly need them for you -- or for anyone," she then adds, letting her arm fall and the amusement fall from her face, "Look closely upon me, and search your memory. I will allow you this moment to consider your next action."
His eyes look angry and uncomprehending at her words, but the gesture is easy enough to follow. In fact, several from the Laosian convoy are watching now. Archon Skotonys is on his feet, his gaze intent, although he does not move towards them. The foreman snarls again and lowers his arm. He spits out a Yemenen slur for Laosians -- a crude word that means something like "one who engages in cross-species relationships". He kicks the slave girl and says something like "get up!" to her, then kicks her again when she whimpers and doesn't move fast enough for his liking.
"A typical prodotis reaction," Lauryn says sadly. "It is here I teach you a important lesson in life -- you may thank me after." While Lauryn is, on the whole, more dark than intimidating in her normal state, she gains a much more dire aspect when she begins her magic. Her black fur, the mark of her gallahness provide an excellent backdrop for eyes that luminese the color of blood. She considers one more warning as she builds her power for her attack, but decides against it -- one warning shall be all she will give anyone.
The foreman misses her remark -- he's distracted by cursing his 'recalcitrant' subordinate. The other Yemenos servants see the change in her appearance and mew in fear. Two bolt from their carts, while the third tries to warn the foreman by tugging at his arm. He's rewarded with a curse, and he starts to edge away as well.
Lauryn simply waves the others away; they are of no consequence at the moment. Raising a hand, she points at the lash in a simple gesture. The impliment of pain ripples in a black mist that bleeds in from the very air, and then it is an entirely different sort of bane: a black serpent. Twisted, with scales like night and Lauryn's red, glowing eyes, it writhes in the man's hand, turning to face him, hissing!
The foreman is about to bring the implement down to strike the white girl when it transforms in his hand. He yowls and opens his hand to drop it. There's a muffled thump next to the girl, but the black snake does not fall: its tail wraps around his wrist and its head whips about towards the foreman's face. He backs away, shaking his hand and screaming. The third servant by now has fled. The girl uncurls a little at the screams, peeking around her. She has large pale blue eyes, and they widen in terror when she sees the snake. She promptly curls up again.
Meanwhile, Lauryn calmly walks forward, red eyes and all, making twirling motion with a finger as she urges the snake to constrict and bite. She wonders if it's the Laosians rubbing off on her, but tormenting this petty man with magic feels a bit beneath her. Amusing and indulgent, certainly, but beneath her. After a moment she stops by the cowering girl and kneels down to pick up the lash, examining it quietly while the foreman screams nearby, quite unbothered by the man's reaction. Nodding, she then prods the Yemenos girl with it and says in the first Yemenos she has spoken since the encountered, "Get up." The words are not unkindly spoken, but they aren't a request either.
The girl shudders and doesn't respond right away. This close, Lauryn can see trickles of blood, some fresh and some dried and matted, around her ears and welts along with fresh and matted blood on her neck. After a moment, the girl gives a shaky nod and mumbles "yes" followed by a word Lauryn doesn't recognize. Slowly, shivering and unsteady, the white Yemenos gets to her feet.
She keeps her head down and her shoulders hunched, still cringing away from Lauryn much the way she cringed from the foreman. The foreman's screams are muffled by distance and the grain in the fields; he's run of a hundred yards or so into the fields, and it sounds like he's tripped and fallen on something.
When the white girl is standing, Lauryn smiles. With her red eyes, black face, and white teeth, it's hardly as soothing as Lauryn thinks it is, but at least it's followed by a gentle pat. The pat is then followed by something, perhaps, surprising: Lauryn pushes the lash in to the white girl's hand. "Take this," she commands, followed by, "Come."
The girl cowers and winces at the pat, as if anticipating a blow. She recoils from the handle of the reed lash, so startled she drops it. She mumbles a frightened apology and stoops painfully to retrieve it. She really doesn't look well. "Y-yes," she says, followed by the same word as earlier. Mereks, maybe? Lauryn's probably heard it before but doesn't know what it means.
With the lash in her hand now, the girl moves to follow Lauryn as commanded. She looks more terrified than ever.
Lauryn frowns at the girl's condition, which just makes her look disapproving. The sorceress decides she'll have to see about those wounds later, but for now, Lauryn leads the girl in to the field. The screaming makes finding her target easier, despite the grains and her not particularly tall stature. She pauses to take in the man shen she finds him, and beckons the girl to look as well.
The foreman is rolling around in the field, smashing down the plants as he wrestles with the demonic viper. Purplish, oozing fang marks dot his face, arms, and hands. The snake is wrapped around his throat at the moment and he's trying unsuccessfully to pull it off. His eyes bulge as he gasps for breath. "mer ... cy ... " he wheezes at Lauryn, holding out a pleading hand.
The white-furred girl looks almost as horrified as the foreman. She backs away from both him and Lauryn. When he looks to her, he gasps out, "help," but she just backs another step away, shaking her head.
"Mmmm." Lauryn cocks her head aside in a very deliberate gesture, putting a finger to her lips as she makes a show of considering the request. Then, she turns to the girl and says, "Your choice." Another pat on the shoulder follows, then she adds, "Or you hit him." The black Gallah makes a small whipping gesture with her hand, smiling even more, the urging the girl on with her hands.
The feline still looks appalled, and it's not clear that she understands Lauryn's Yemenen speech. She swallows in obvious fear, and takes a trembling step forward. Cringing, she swats the foreman lightly on the shoulder, not even looking at him. Instead, she looks at Lauryn, as if for approval.
And here Lauryn must roll her eyes, and shake her head. Indulging someone else's revenge is more trouble than she anticipated, she thinks, and tries not to wonder if she or her mother would have done the same thing. With both hands, she urges the girl to put more effort in to it, then points at her eyes, then the man, trying to get her to look at what she's doing.
The girl grits her teeth and turns to look at her master. He gives her a little nod, his eyes desparate, the skin of his nose purpling from lack of breath. She draws the lash back with both hands and swings it like a club, bringing it down against the side of his head. The blow rocks his head, though it's not hard enough to cut through his fur. She hits him again, and again, clumsy swings striking his upper arm, shoulder, and back. She doesn't really look like she's enjoying her revenge, although there's a certain strange glint to her eyes that hadn't been there before. After the fifth strike she stops. "Enough, mereks?" she asks.
It's really not what Lauryn was hoping for, but she isn't going to force the matter. It's the sort of revenge that must really come from the heart,// she decides. Nodding, she holds her hand out for the lash. Once that's retrieved, she turns to studies the man a moment, then makes a dismissive gesture, beckoning both the serpent and the man to be gone. "Do not let me see you again before I depart."
The serpent vanishes at her gestures, as do the wounds it inflicted. The foreman gasps for breath, hands massaging his throat. As soon as he's got his wind back, he's off and running as fast as he can manage. Or off and stumbling; he's even slower than his servant by now. The girl takes a few hesitant steps after him, then pauses and looks at Lauryn as if for a cue.
"Come," Lauryn says, gesturing the girl to follow again. Slowing to allow her new aquisition to keep pace, the sorceress returns to the camp, in search of the party's healer.