Raidah o' Red
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"As ye' wish, me' mastah." She replied to the girl with a grin, her bow held tight within her grasp. This is her forté, after all. Massacre, slaughter of large amounts of foes while speeding across the combat field. "Tseneglech, heed me' call. Bring out yer' great frightwnin' stampede!" She muttered softly while redirecting her horse not towards but straight at the magicians. she called it the Conqueror's March, the leader will always be the front, the vanguard. Throw your fears away, and just crush.
And she grinned. The field of combat, the place where she belonged. None had greater experience in warfare than her, her 60 years of constant fighting was her proof. From the cery first moment she stepped on a horse and hunted down Chinese-owned Tatar scum, until the day her father Yesügei Khan died, and when by blood and iron she united the Mongol tribes while she was but a small-town bandit chief. And she grinned again. The memories of her grand invasion of China, her wallbreakers, her loyal hordes swarming and murdering the villages scattered around. Her blood boiled at the thought.
She armed her arrow with Chinese gunpowder, a technique she invented with success. And she pointed it towards the army of spellcasters, before releasing the lone, armed arrow into the swarm. She delighted in the sound of the flying arrow, the gentke thwing followed by a soft, soothing pheeeeeeeooouuuu before landing in the mass, finally slipping out a earthshaking chhhroooowwww. The mongol warleader watched in ecstacy at the fireball explodibg from the area, and she almost began touching herself at the anguishing sounds of pain, fear and death.
She was so high on the rousing feeling of war that she let another arrow go. And a third. But not a fourth. "Why all o' a sudden do me' body tremble in feah'?" The conqueror muttered. Her grip on her bow was loose. Her body quivered. She.. loved it.
And so she turned to look over to the Saber in combat with the Berserker, her eyes cautiously watching their brawl. Whenever her eyes glimpsed over Saber, she felt her back go completely cold, her entire body trembling with aching fear. Well, that concludes the cause. Atleast her trousers were warm and w- "Hah... hahahahah! I bloodeh' pissed me'self! Oh, this is great!" she cheered in frightened bliss. And her body got the better of her twisted mind, driving her instead further away from the frame.
Well, atleast until Lancer took action. She peered with amusement at the efficient throw, and she couldn't deny the gentle wheeeeene amused her either before it struck the target. Aaand he was dead. That's it. Sarisfied with the victory, yet still dissappointed she couldn't feel that overwhelming fear anymore. Well, that's all. And without any words mysed, she rode over to her flying Master, her eyes peering up with a raised eyebrow. "'ey, Mastah, it's oveh'. Les' get outta 'ere... also, do teach this 'ere nomad 'ow te' fly, would ya'?"
And after that, she rode off. The battle was over, and she felt completely disinterested in staying here any further. She rode through the fields of dead children with an unremarkably lack of interest, as if the sight of their twisted, shattered frames with their guts plastered all over the shattered ruins didn't affect her at all. A piece of broken intestine fell onto her head, the disgusting scent of bacterial activity still hardly phasing her. Say one thing about Rider, say she's used to genocides.
Genghis was ways off when the sounds of combat returned, followed by a sense of panic. Her steed seemed to neigh and stamp with uncertainty, causing the blue-haired woman to turn her eyes back to the previous battlesite with renewed interest. And that overwhelming fear had returned, pulsing and throbbing within her veins, the sensation of disadvantageous battle that she so revelled in. The disorientation, the shock, it was all too similar to the time in her very beginning phase.. yes, not too dissimilar to when her breasts took shape and her body shed blood, and her first battles in the wild. Few combatants, victory claimed through surprise maneuvers.
Her infamous grin returned, the grin that haunts any Chinese dreams even a thousand years later. She grinned so hard that her cheeks began to burn of tear, her laughter deranged and twisted. The Scourge of Civilizations, God of Mongols, Ghenghis Khan, Great Khan of Mongolia was awoken. "Tseneglegch, seems we finally 'ave a foe wo'hy of attenchun...
Ya' ready, me' trusted maeh'? I got me' a feelin' ov dread, seems this 'ere bahh'le's lost. Les' get Mrs. Mastah 'nd get outta 'ere. Regroup 'nd countah." She muttered with renewed vigor. She had a war again.
The mighty stampede of the white horse ravaged back towards the battlefield, an arrow placed onto her bowstring. And without wasting another second, she fired it straight at her master! And the arrow exploded midair, a web of rope flying at the levitating magician, forcing her down to a random, white horse, seemingly appearing from nowhere. "Bahh'le's lost, deah Mastah!
Les' get th'fekk outta 'ere fer nae."
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A fine tavern, this place, the conqueror reckoned. Her horse neighed softly in agreement while Genghis' groomed her, the horse wet after a quick bath. The issue with white furred horses was, as always, that blood and piss stains were oh so visible, and Tseneglegch was doused in both. Admittedly the piss from Temäidchen herself, it wasn't a desired gift. And her horse was a moody one, always had been. Well, since her beloved child perished alongside the rider in the battle for Indus. Ghenghis felt her horse's pain well, the death of a beloved one was never a happy thing.
"If onleh those fekkin' Chinese aristehcrats jus' fell ovah 'nd died, we'd have ouah' children, Tse." She muttered softly. The memories of her first son, Jochi, haunted her still. His death was far too early, and she loved him dearly despite his foul plots behind her back. He was, after all, the firstborn son to her and her first wife, Börte. How that happened, no one knows. But Genghis and Börte, of course. And the trouble they went through to get Jochi was what made it so painful, a mother should never watch her child die before her.
She sighed softly, before shaking these sad thoughts out of her head. Tseneglegch softly rubbed her muzzle up along the conqueror's arm in comfort, and she smiled softly back to her trusted steed,"Aye, yer' right. Cannae' be sad nae. Thank ye', Tse. Love ya too." And so she giggled, yes giggled, much like a young girl. Well, she was in her youth's body, so that might be why, but her nose wrinkled up nonetheless. Did I just.. giggle? How peculiar! And with that, she decided to go back inside and get a drink. Now, to locate the bardisk and simply order the drink any civilized place has access to, the drink from her beloved steppes. She smiled almost seductively to the bartender, a knife twirling around the top of her index finger while flicking her lashes at him. And so she placed her order.
"Ye' don' have fekkin' Airag!? Wha' kinda tavern's this!?" Genghis groaned out in frustration, her head tilted towards the Berserker of the group in a 'can you believe this shit' manner. She had absolutely no idea what any of the drinks on the menu offered was, nor could she read them, so she just groaned out. "Y'kna wha, just gimme somethin'. Don' care wha'. Bloodeh foreigners 'nd their lack o' airag..." The keep just raised an eyebrow at her before returning with a glass of scotch, and the short conqueror grasped the glass with cautious curiosity. She took a whiff of it. Disgusting. Abhorrent. What a terrible scent. Just the way she liked it, she nodded and foolishly drank the glass in one go.
Now, here's the issue. Being in her younger body meant she hadn't gotten the alcoholic tolerance she gained over the many years. And scotch has a much higher alcoholic percentage than her local drinks as well. And thus Rider of Red, mounted on horses, became Rider of Pink, mounted on elephants. Say one thing about Genghis, say she's a flirtateous drunk. Poor Berserker was the target of her affections too, he was closest and she enjoyed both male and female partners.
"Oyh... Gol'nn boy.. ye' as gol'nn in bed 'swell? Woul'ya show this 'ere... Raidah~? Genghis emphasized the last word in a bubbly, drunken fashion. Oh the joy, she could use her class in a manner of seduction. Let's just hope her master didn't see that.
