<font color='#FFFFFF'><table border=0 width=300><tr><td><font color=000000> day; twenty month; mia year; two <font color=800000><dd>A streak of blood red seared down ashen back, pooling at tailtip of the lithe female it decored. Untamed wings of a dragon arched behind her, folded in some kind of regal posture, fooling one to believe that she had mastered the majestic art of soaring in the thermals of the sky. <dd>Tattooed in black on her left haunch was a series of three lines, looking much like a slash of claws by some stronger creature - and although it looked like a long-since battlescar, it symbolised something completely different. This she knew, but what it truly meant, she did not. Her family had died when she was still in the Academy, and they were gone before they could explain to her why they chose a tattoo that looked so much like a wound. <dd>She walked slowly along the beaches, brooding about her kin who's lives had been taken so carelessly by a strange 'dragon whom they had never met before in their lives; she could still see him in her mind, the blood of her family drying in his fur as he slowly snuck out of the house. She had been coming to the dwelling from school for a planned visit, watching the scene from a mere hundred feet away. It was still clear in her mind, although she wished desperately to forget. <dd>Here in Mansukh, she seeked a peace of mind where the Fronima was strong, yet not strong enough to consume her. While she wished to be with her family there, her life was hers to live - she wouldn't waste it thoughtlessly, foolishly. The Fronima obviously wanted her to stay alive, or she would have died that night, so long ago, as well. And besides, its what her family would want - her living in their places, her legend only beginning. <dd>Already reaching the mountains, the young female sighed, swiftly laying down with head upon forepaws, hindlegs tucked below her. Appendages emerging out of her shoulders dipping down around her, protecting her dark body from the burning sun.</td></tr></table></font>
<font color='#00FF00'><font color=sienna face=tahoma><blockquote>Vague imprints were left behind the Master as he moved fluidly across the landscape. Long, fluffy tail, whisked those same prints away as swiftly as they were made. It was dangerous to leave a trail, when one was a Master of Espionage. Very dangerous indeed. For it could result in death, or worse, enslavement. Though he hadn't heard of anyone being enslaved by anyone at all, he didn't put it past the Graders to decide and enslave something they wanted, were it not willing. Because he was allied to himself, and himself alone. Neither the Draygns, nor the Graders, held his loyalty. If they paid him enough, perhaps he would take a job from one, but never swear alliegence to either. Unless they, somehow, managed to prove to him that they were worth his loyalty and time. Otherwise, they might as well move on, and ignore his minor meddlings in their affairs. Even those were scarce, because few wanted to tamper with the leaders. Or their former leaders, either. Which was a shame. How was he supposed to make any sort of living off of his Mastery if he couldn't even get a job? Before the Graders came into control, there were enough secrets and conspirises to last him for a long time. Yet after the Graders came into play, things quieted down. After all, the Graders had clearly murdered the Draygns, they certainly wouldn't stop there. Any threat would be converted or eliminated, it was that simple, and Tuk knew he was a threat. No, he wasn't full of himself, it was simply a fact. If he allied himself (or even worked for) either the Dragyns, or another faction, then the Graders would be in trouble. Masters didn't gain their rank for nothing, after all. Besides that, he had done worked for the Dragyns before, when they were in power, and the pay was good. Once, and once alone, had he done so. Yet that was proof positive that he was a capable spy. Ivory teeth gleamed as he snarled silently, no sound escaping from torn vocals. That was another asset to the spy, he could reveal none of the information to anyone but the intended receiver. None could torture him into writing something, though sometimes pendragons yelled out what the truth was in delirium. He was ensured to not do that. Especially since no one knew that his mind was capable of speaking. One thing was sure, though, he would never betray one that he had taken as his momentary provider. Perhaps one day, he would work against them, but would not spill information he had learned, unless it was offered again, somehow. It was simply the way he worked, his messed up sense of loyalty to his boss. Whomever that might be. Sensing another's prescense, his wings unfurled, hindlegs tensing in preperation to leap into the air. Fortunatly, he noticed the position of the other mere moments after he sensed her prescense. Tuk tucked his wings back against his back, and eased up closer to the female pendragon. Vaguely taking things in, such as her symbol, he quirked a pendragon 'brow. She seemed harmless, but assassins often did. Just in case, he had his wings and body prepared to escape, or fight back. Tuk clicked his tongue, a sound that required only the moving of that appendage, and not his vocal cords. It was somewhat hard to do, judging by the fact that he had a lupine mouth, but it worked well enough. A simple call to wakefulness towards the other pendragon. Tuk wanted to "speak" with her. As well as he could, anyways, with body language and using his eyes.</font>
