<div class="floatright">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v296/rcburner/women/SinRapierWoman-1.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;">~Lady Helena Machen~</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Location: Thursday</strong></span><br/><br/>The woman stood at the southern side of the small moldering town, basking in the harsh rays of a cruel sun that stripped the land of moisture, life, and hope.  The darkness of her armor seemed to absorb the surrounding light until it became an inky blotch cloaking her slender frame, while her alabaster flesh shone like a mirror, as blinding as it was breathtaking.  She gazed out into the rippling atmosphere of the plains as though they were clear as day.  Deep furrows and canyons scarred the land where sharp winds had howled furiously until the dust and sand relinquished their grip upon the Earth and fled into the air.  Out in the distance the blackened remnants of trees stood as monuments to older days when water flowed plentifully, now reduced to charcoal spires after bursting into flame time and time again.  They were every bit as stubborn as the people that chose to eke out an existence here, and in Lady Helena's eyes that made them a rare and beautiful treasure.<br/><br/>For when she looked upon these blasted deserts she did not see a land of death and misery and pain, but one of ancient secrets and unplumbed caverns waiting to be discovered and explored.  There was history to be found in every grain of sand, and long forgotten stories whispered of and carried on the blusterous winds.  It was as much a relic as it was a wasteland, a curious survival from a distant age.  Though others chose to focus on life and living, Lady Helena had dedicated herself to the dead.  This part of the world lacked the colour and aesthetic beauty of other, safer lands, but that did not make it any less wonderful.  Though a gorgeous tropical flower may please the eyes, compared to a weathered gray rock it has seen so very little in its infinitely shorter lifespan.  She would take a single chunk of sandstone over all the flowers in the world.<br/><br/>"Bartholomew?  Come.  I wish to mingle amongst the people for a spell," she said gently, her voice carrying a subtle chiming, as though church-bells were singing just beyond the range of hearing.<br/><br/>What had appeared to be nothing more than some great pile of wood and coloured metal sitting not ten feet behind her suddenly came alive, groaning obediently as its pieces swiftly organized themselves.  The massive  statue (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v296/rcburner/RoyalSentinelMachine.jpg) began to glow like a lantern, an intricate tracery of runes humming softly with unnatural life.  Lady Helena smiled pensively at the construct before marching back towards the town proper, hips swaying with the sort of carefully measured movements one would usually find in a princess or a noblewoman.  The golem followed right behind, floating several inches above the unstable soil.  It garnered the immediate attention of everyone in the street, but apparently it was not the first time most of them had seen Lady Helena or her strange company, for most of them quickly went back to their work.<br/><br/>A spark in the darkness.  Helena blinked, turning her head cautiously to the side.  A man caught her attention, one with a curious sort of look about him that marked him as a fellow wanderer.  Clearly not the sort of person to enjoy the unforgiving sun of the desert, he certainly seemed to have gone to many lengths to cover up his skin.  But it was not his attire that drew her scrutiny.  There was a quality about him that was not common in such superstitious lands.  A taste of magic on the air?  Most curious.  Helena's slender brow raised a notch.  A demon?  No; he seemed too distraught.  Demons tended to possess the stench of infuriating arrogance.  But a strange fellow in such a backwater town, looking discomforted whilst staring at a board full of wanted men and women, and smelling faintly of unnatural power?  To simply ignore such a person would be nearly criminal!<br/><br/>Sidling quietly up beside him, she glanced curiously up at the wall of posters and grizzled faces staring back at her.  "So many cruel men wandering about these days.  It's a wonder that they could even fit them all on a single board," she said aloud, casually flicking her eyes to the poster clutched in Toren's hands.  "And yet...that one does not seem cruel at all.  I see only kindness in those eyes, though they shine through a haunted face.  Perhaps even the authorities make mistakes."<br/><br/>Finally turning to look the man in the eyes, Helena smiled gently.  It was a true smile, one that spread up to the sides of her cold blue eyes.  "I apologize for intruding, Wanderer, but I could not help but notice your agitation.  I wished to ascertain if you were in need of some assistance.  Might I ask what has stricken your face with such a troubled look?"