<div class="floatleft">(http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo62/cimsoderholm/Sochiportrait.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Sochi Temujin<br/><strong>Place within Hierarchy:</strong>Old Timer<br/><strong>Role:</strong>Act<br/><strong>Position:</strong>The Khan (Weapon master, horse rider and miracle archer)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Big Tent<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>His old worn out leathers and furs, very archaic as always<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>None so far.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The night had been long and eventful for the old man. He felt a slight pain in his knees, having been on the move most of the day and rehabilitating his beloved horse during the evening while the others performed. While he wouldn't admit it, he was getting a bit old. The years was catching up to the Khan, whether he liked it or not. Incredibly enough his horse was as alert as ever. He was almost sure that Ogedei would never trot again, but tonight he had rode him through a field and through a nearby patch of forest. The horse had been more than happy to do so and handled just as always, leaping gracefully over logs and fences. To Sochi it was a blessing from the ancestors. Ogedei had been his horse for as long as he could remember. It was given to him as a foal when he was five and had followed with him ever since. To see him back on his legs as strong as ever was bringing back some youth to the old warrior.<br/><br/>Thus it was with a certain mix of stagger and spring that he made his way up to the big tent. He pulled the flap to the side and entered, surprised at how the place had been clad in elegant glamour for the evening. He looked down at his own worn rags and felt a bit out of place. It was pretty much the case all around these days. He was just about the only true old timer left since Elizabeth threw out all the bastards of the family. Now he was an old lion among a pack of young wolves. Kinky and the twins passed him as he entered. He gave the twins a smile and a courtly nod to Kinky. Most thought that the clown was a vulgar fool, but Sochi saw some cunning intent in him. Such cunning could be both useful and dangerous, but something told him the first applied more so than the second. He wanted to pass the good news about Ogedei to Elizabeth, but she was striding out onto the dance floor with Lawrence and Lexie.<br/><br/>He instead settled to have a seat next to the floor and watch. Bringing out his pipe he stuffed it with his own blend of tobacco and lit it, spreading a sweet stinging scent around himself in wisps of smoke that seemed to circle his being. The ancestors were ever present and showed themselves in the smoke, Sochi believed. He drew strength and wisdom from them and shared it with those around him. Now he watched the painted clown dance with the two young acts that had stumbled into the circus back when the Khan still was the greatest act. The livid colors danced between them and reminded him of flames, a shard of memory stinging his mind. Those were the days when he still knew his place in the family. Not so much anymore...