------------- Tales of The Raptors – The Pacifist

She moved through the streets unimpeded. Most who saw her wouldn’t remember her. Most who might intend her harm if they knew what she was, didn’t seem to see her. It was a simple enough power, allowing her to go places one of her stature and rank would normally not be allowed to go. It was one of the few reasons she was allowed to travel in remote areas like this without a warrior’s escort.

After a short time, she arrived at the hotel, the Clifftop, the most expensive and famous hotel in Xanthius. Many saw it as a tourist attraction, a place for outsiders. Interesting that her contact could be considered just that in more ways than most people could imagine. She checked in, no baggage to speak of, and immediately went to the bar. She knew that the contact was not exactly the barfly type, but he was also not the typical bookworm either. He’d be in a public place, inconspicuous and unexceptional. Like her, he’d blend in with the crowd. Unlike her, his way was one of violence and death. He was, after all, Frelenat.

She saw what would likely be him sitting alone in a corner of the bar, his back strategically against a wall, his eyes deceptively hidden beneath his cowl, his shoulders slumped and his demeanor bleak. None would approach him for casual conversation. None would ask to sit at his table. No one would risk bothering him. Even the very bold would think twice about accosting him. She walked straight up to his table, and without removing her own cowl, reached out and touched his mind. The connection was impossible. She could feel his innate defenses lashing out to stop her intrusion. She couldn’t tell whether he’d noticed the attempt or not. She spoke plainly in Symballan.

“Warmaster. I come from the Kar’Thane order. You have been informed of my arrival?”

He looked up and pushed his cowl back, exposing a face grizzled by war and hate and torture, but boyishly handsome nonetheless. He narrowed his eyes.

“Let me see you.”

She pushed back her cowl but kept her disguising psion in place. The Warmaster didn’t seem to be affected by it anyway.

“Is this better?”

The Warmaster held his hand out, offering her the seat across from him. Instead, she slipped around the table and took the seat beside him, where her own view of the room would be unobstructed. He smiled.

“Aniqa Jalah al’Rhankur. Kar’Thane Priestess. Isn’t it a bit dangerous for you to be wandering about a city like Xanthius without a guard?”

“And hello to you to, old friend. Of all my classmates at Kar’Dhaer, you were undoubtedly the most dour.”

The Warmaster huffed, “Then I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t around that much.”

------------- Credits

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