Desperate Times

"That is good. We may be grasping for straws, but its better than the option. I've heard stories of a powerful necromancer. There has been no sign of him for a long time, but unless he has moved or died, I know where he is. Well, the general area. He has taken a piece of land and removed close to every sign of life. And then re-animated some of it. And we pretty much have to go to him and ask for his assistance. And, since he once was a human, I thought that he might have more sympathy for you, or any human. If he has any sympathy at all, that is..." The orc grew silent again.
 
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Name: Prince Chand Isle Ziac

Species: Elven- Half breed

Gender: Male

Age: 18

Family: Parents were king and queen to the Throne o' Moon until the kingdom perished in an attack. His twin sister was murdered out of pure jealousy by his own hands.

Personality: On the outside to most he is a handsome and charming young boy. A typical elven boy to most but deep inside he is a cold and an aggressive individual with selfish needs. Chand is a boy of hate and need to become a dictator. He is sly at convincing people to do things for him. He can easily squirm his way out of a conflict with his way of words and acting. Chand likes to act like the innocent young boy if he senses he can easily play with someone. He is a master of trickery and a pretty good liar. His sadistic mind set to become a ruler is what prompts him to do most things. He's never sympathetic towards most things but himself or to those he feels 'useful'.

History: Chand was a prince destined for the Throne o' Moon ever since his sister was mysterious killed. The Throne o' Moon was a kingdom reunited by Humans and Elves, a kingdom that was suppose to make history for the land, small as it was. It began with a love affair between a human prince and Elven mistress. It was meant to break the feud between the races. 25 years later and the kingdom had came to be. Unknown by many it was kept a secret by humans and elves that disagreed with the unity.

Chand and his sister were the first children born with half blood from the kingdom. Chand was spoiled and cherished along with his sibling. His twin, Jin, was the first rightful hire to the throne because she was female, relating to the Elven culture. Chand did not agree to this. With many months of arguing and making his sister decline the offer, in which she wouldn't, he had came to the conclusion of killing her. Chand had set it up the murder to be a close relative that he did not like. It was a man of the kingdom's council, the one had set the idea of referring a female as the royal title. In the end, Chand was now destined.

A year later a blind attack had shooken the kingdom, causing the royals to flee. The kingdom had burned to the ground in doom. Everyone else was slaughtered by the mysterious attackers, the only survivor in the outcome was Chand. Running to the wasteland of sand and haste.

Present: Chand now rides the desert with on a blind mares back in search of people. Hopefully to find food and shelter. He is wounded in his right rib cage from a blow. A prince without a crown riding in a land of nothing.
 
Letitia nods, thinking. Necromancers, however rare they were, tended to be, in the stories and legends, more friendly to Banshees. However, she decided, she wouldn't tell anyone about that part of her just yet. Not until they had found the Necromancer and she was fully comfortable with the Orc and him. Even then, she would be wary. Finally making up her mind, she said, "Fine. Lead the way then, Orc."
 
The Orc smiled slightly. "Very well. As I said, I do not know the exact location, but I do believe it is the deadlands quite a distance to the west. I can arrange for some mounts." He went silent for a moment. "Do you need any food or anything for the trip? The market here will your gold like any other."
 
Dry...Hot...

Is all he could think. body limped and hanging from his horse that was blindly fumbling in the thick sand. Wind gusted and the horse pulled back her ears pressing on forward, the smart mare is use to these harsh barrens of sand. Her stride became less bumpy as the sand beneath her did not become so loose. The white sand smoothed out before her and her frail rider. She slowed her pace because of the restrain on her calves and leg muscles. She whinnied and clopped forward at a much slower pace, head hung lower. The boy had opened his eyes from the sudden change of ground beneath him. Eye sight went into a blur and progressed into clarity. The sun had dried his lips and crusted his eyes. Chand tried to move himself up but he winced in pain and left himself slumped over the shoulder of the horse. He brought a shaky hand to his rib; blood was all over the cup and seat of the saddle. He felt everything spin around him, fatigue got the best of him again...

Need... Water...

Were the last things he could muffle beneath the cloth that he wrapped around his light armor. He fell into concussion.
 
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Name: Knariit'ash
Age: 36 Hell-fire Orbits (1 Hell-fire Orbit = Approximately 28.5 years)
Gender: Male
Species:
Commonly known as "Imps" by Humans, their native name could not possibly be pronounced by anyone of this world. Exceptionally cunning and often mischievous, they are used primarily as scouts and messengers by Lieutenants of the Demonic Horde, as they can easily go weeks at a time without rest.
Their wings aren't used for flying so much as gliding, though they are capable of thrusting themselves up to great heights in a single movement and can take advantage of even the lightest of breezes to extend their air-time.
Personality:
Possessing an extremely quick and devious mind even by Imp standards, Knariit'ash is cold and callous with a quick temper which invokes both aggravation and admiration in his superiors. A sadist in every meaning of the word, he has a propensity to go above and beyond what is required of him when it comes to prying information from the clutches of those reluctant to give it freely.
Background:
Having always outshone his piers, regardless of the nature of his assignments Knariit'ash was given the extremely rare privilege, by the Arch-Demon himself, of having free rein to serve in whatever way he sees fit. Since the restriction of following orders was lifted the Imp has proven his worth countless times, earning him a title amongst the Demon Commanders which roughly translates as "Invaluable Free One".
Current Endeavours:
A few days ago, Knariit'ash encountered a young Human female who seemed to be wandering from town to town, seeking help. Intrigued and vaguely amused by her apparent plight, he decided to tail her.
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Knariit'ash was perched atop the ruin of a watchtower, his gaze fixed on the gates of the Orcish city which the girl had entered roughly half an hour previously. He had already scanned the outskirts of the city thoroughly and, once content there was only one exit, found a suitable spot from which to conduct his surveillance.

His long, narrow tail swayed absent-mindedly, the razor-sharp tip tilting from side to side with the movements as he pondered why the Human was willing to take her plea for help to the Orcs. Though there was currently peace between the two races, it was fragile: the wariness born from centuries of war remained and interactions, even for trading purposes, were few and far between.
 
"No," she told him, nodding a bit, "I still have some from when I left, and quite simply, I just want to leave as soon as possible," she tried to act nonchalant, but couldn't quite pull it off. In truth, she was excited to finally be getting somewhere in what most people would call a fool's mission. Even though, of course, his proposition did sound nearly crazy, but Letitia was willing to go for any lead she could right now.
 
For a moment, the Orc thought she seemed happy to leave, and what she said didn't exactly help the feeling. But he shrugged it off and started walking towards the gate. "This was, pin... I should probably stop calling you that. Your name was... Letia was it not? My name is Rogdush." He said, looking at her while walking.
 
"Letitia," she corrected him, smiling a little. "And it's a pleasure to meet you, Rogdush. I suppose if you won't call me 'pinkskin,' I won't call you Orc," she caught him looking, and arched an eyebrow in his direction. "Something the matter?" she asked with a slight giggle in her voice
 
"Oh, its nothing. You just seem a bit happy to leave, is all. You pinkskins tend to do that." He took a short pause, before continuing. "Anyway, here we are!" In front of them was a large building, with a even larger open area next to it, filled with large wolves and orcs tending to them. Rogdush exchanged a few words with one of the workers there, before he disappeared inside.
It didn't take long before he returned with two of the large wolves, saddled up and ready. "You can ride, right?" Rogdush asked Letitia, looking a bit skeptically at her.
 
She looked to him in exasperation. "Horses, not wolves!" she said. When she was little, before her Banshee powers were discovered, she had been taught how to ride by her father, who soon abandoned her after she saw the death of her older brother. She used to enjoy the sport, but not so much now, not having ridden in several years.
 
Rogdush swings onto the one wolf. Its almost gray furred, and seems to have lived quite a few years. "It's the same basics, I believe. Sit in the saddle, don't let it think its the boss, and pull the reins to control it. Simple." He said, smiling, as he checks the saddlebags.
 
A little nervously, her head bobs up and down once in a short nod, still unsure about it a little. "If you say so," Letitia says, swinging onto her wolf a little less gracefully than he had. Hers was almost black, but in some places it was a lighter brown. On its snout was a white diamond, pure, and without blemish. She smiled, reaching forwards to stroke its fur softly, although anxiety of the great animal still remained in her gaze.
 
"Well, lets get going. Forward Gorn!" He said, as he started riding towards the gates, then heading west. He made sure to not ride so fast she couldn't keep up. As he rode, he turned towards her and asked "So, what's the reason you came to us, rather than someone of your own kind?"
 
She shook her head at his response, thinking for a long second before answering with, "I don't know. I guess I was running out of places within a feasible distance. If I had gone any farther, I think I would have not been able to make it back in time. Once again, she offered a smile, figuring he probably wouldn't return it, but giving it a shot anyways.
 
He smiled slightly back at her. "You know, we Orcs tended to like you pinkskins pretty well, before the wars and all that. I for one hope that your village seeking refuge in our city could mean the opportunity to establish some friendships. Though that could just be an old Orcs hope." He sighed slightly as he finished.
 
The mare kept walking, her prints behind her fading away with the wind. She stopped rigidly, the boy's hand hanging lower and lower as he was slipping from the saddle. The blind mare felt the gust of wind hit her face, in shock she stepped back and whinnied. The boy had finally slipped falling slowly to his back. He layed in the sand, eyes still closed and blood still seeping from him. The mare felt the loss of weight and walked slowly until she felt something infront of her, taking it was the boy. She whinnied abrasively and dug the sand with her hoof keeping herself by the boy. She shook her head lowly and bumped her nose to the boys arm, nibbling and pushing for him to get up. Sand had flung as the wind currents picked up, almost making the boy buried in it. Half his feet were already in the sand, it looked like quick sand making it's magic.

The boy had opened his eyes, the blind horse's whiskers touching his face. Her shade blocking the sun from him. He raised a hand, grabbing at the reigns, she flinched in response but stood still.
 
Knariit'ash's train of thought came to an abrupt halt as the Human left the city, accompanied by an Orc who he reckoned was probably not far from his own age, and took a westerly bearing. What could they possibly be heading for in that direction? Nothing lies that way but fields and trees, and beyond that: wasteland.

They were riding wolves, though that wouldn't hinder the Imp's ability to follow them: it simply meant he wouldn't have to pace himself as much to stay behind them. He contented himself to watch the pair from his perch until they were almost out of sight before taking to the air and gliding along in their wake, careful to stay at such a distance that he would most likely be mistaken for a bird of prey, if he was spotted at all.
 
She was surprised that he had returned her smile, but didn't say anything about it, the only thing to show her emotion being a slight raise of her eyebrows. Perhaps all Orcs aren't like they are in the stories, underbite, angry demeanor, fangs instead of teeth, and quick to fight. However, many didn't do anything to change the stereotype.

"Yes, I've been told the stories," she said as he mentioned Orc-human relationships nearly a hundred years ago, probably more.
 
"I was there. I had human friends. I possibly killed some of the in the wars. It's hard to tell, as you all tend to wear the same armor." He went silent for a while, looking forwards. Suddenly, he leans forward. "Is... Is that a horse?"
 
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