Satetka

The Serpent's Head buzzed with talk, and at the main table a large group could be seen, including priestess Mandisa and Fenixx, the herald. Mandisa was leaning close to him to listen to his whispers, when a pause at the main table permitted it.

The Herald must have divulged something that held great value for the woman for her eyes flashed with living fire for an instant, she grasped her wine goblet hard and took the final sips of drink from it. She then put it down, pondering, leaning in again to whisper something back, smirking evilly, and listening to the reply.

...

'So, my dear, have you brought the items?' Mandisa turned to a young woman sitting to the right of her, Khama-Srim. Her and Fenixx weren't talking anymore, but a malfigured form could be seen where a wine goblet was, the mass of gold melted and burnt deep into the wood of the table.

The black horse snorted and pranced as Mandisa pulled on the reigns to hard, stoppig just in time not to collide with the inn's wall. She was on her way up north when Dute, a warrior of the order, happened to catch up with her on his stallion.
'Greetings my lady!'
'Greetings warrior of the order..'
'Why, did you not go to the meeting?'
'Meeting?'
'Yes, the High Priest is having a meeting with lord Amunsol..'
She turned her horse around and hit her heels hard on its sides, face contorted with rage. 'Is this then how you are going to play this, my 'love'? A puppet to cuddle by the fire? If you ever fooled yourself into believing I will follow blindly and watch you do what you do.. without knowing the reason behind it - you are wrong.'
The horse raced as memories swam before her mind:

Her travels to the north were fruitless. There was none she could find to question or torture the information out of. The Mitra magics yet kept eating at her own powers, preventing her from calling on self-healing as effectively. At the end she just decided to give up. Why after all wasn't anyone skilled enough at arcane arts able to help? It was worth a shot.

Khemi greeted with the usual noise and stench coming from the market. She rode to the traders as the wind swirled it seemed right into her ear, bringing a voice. She pulled on the strings a bit too hard, causing the horse to rear.
'Meet me in the Purple Carp now.. to discuss Stygia'

She stretched her legs out and the setting sun reflected off the smooth skin. The waters splashed gently against the stone walls of the docks, the shouts of the trader's were dying out.

She didn't even feel like making the journey back to Sepermeru. The tiredness was all-consuming. And why? Surely not because of that small journey to tackle another frost-covered ape. No it was something else.

The priestess took out a leather bound book from her bag, an ink bottle and a quill. She put an inkbottle right there next to herself, not disturbed by any as she was sitting so close to the water. Her eyes grew thoughtful, thinking, trying to sort out what has happened. She finally dipped her quill and started writing..

Excerpts:

((letter from Satetka is in the comment to Mandisa's previous blog entry)) 

Month of October, day 20th

The following is the account of Brotherhood's actions in their aiding the most dear ally Nox Eternus, as recorded by Mandisa, the priestess of Set.
 ((took place on Friday night, Sep.26th))

'Halt!'
 The cry echoed from the surrounding walls. Two women stopped, finding themselves surrounded. Kemena tried to run for it, but - 'Cobra Stare!'. Her feet rooted to the ground, she swayed around dizzily. Yes, it is hard to resist that gaze..
 I snapped out of my reverie when Sontlux shouted the order to get the emblem. Emblem? Everything was happening so fast, I haven't even had a chance to get a good look at it. The path to the boats was clear and we took off. The plan was to take the woman to the island of the dead, Pashtun. No doubt Lord Neverlin had only to snap his fingers and the countless dead would bend their will to his, protecting the captives from any attempt of rescue.