The life of an inquisitor wasn't some grandiloquent station. The responsibilities such an encomium bequeathed carried with it a weighty yoke. And while the troubadours of the land might have favored their idyllic compositions. Their saccharine sonnets failed to disclose the drudgery and despair coupled with such a profession. Tahira Quil'Kovesh was one such soul, an imitation birthed and honed for this singular purpose. And while her recent epiphany might have called into question a great deal. The consolation she ascertained from this line of labor more or less made up for such vexing meditations.
This mer never knew anything but the ambivalence of the road. The elf's days were invested in meandering from one battlefield to the next. And while the theatre might have varied, along with the vista, names, and faces. The certitude of turpitude prevailed unaltered. There vegetating within that lavished abode Tahira would receive her orders. The tomb that was her dwelling held little meaning. It persisted solely as an echo of the past. An unwavering reminder of the life she had lost and the falsehood she still wished to believe.
Carefully the agent opened the parchment, skimming through the scribblings as her curiosity had been piqued. A monster had been sighted. Its elusive nature demonstrated the sort of cunning that few creatures harbored. The accounts were far too whimsical. And while likely fabrications fueled by overactive imaginations. Her scientific lens wouldn't permit the snubbing of such an opportunity. The inquisitor understood that there lurked an iota of truth behind every myth.
Mutely the lampoon assembled her equipment. She was secretly relieved to be liberated from this necropolis. The lonesome hound of the state vamoosed from her manor and proceeded to the stables. Only to then mount her beetle as she shrank away into the distance, leaving Nirvana behind. The road verified itself as foreboding as ever. The remnants of the collapse were all but imperceptible. The horrors of such a downfall could be beheld on the peoples' countenance.
The deeper she traipsed into the badlands, the more profound such testimonials emerged. The burnt remains of farmland entered with her sights. Their property was ransacked, only for the butchered family to be found hanging in a nearby tree. This grisly picture filled Tahira with heartache. And while she might have detested such villainy, the inquisitor took solace in the fact such chaos was transient. With the dead buried, she'd camp there for the night, watching as the binary suns sulked behind the horizon. Come morning; she'd be gone, moving away from civilization and into the sea of dunes.
The radiation of the sols was beating down on the pale beauty. Her steed cumbersomely hulked along as they ascended and descended knoll after knoll. The stretches of hills appeared endless, as the faint shimmering of heat were all that initially graced her vision. The vultures orbiting overhead, their piggish calls were a mockery. Those winged carrions yearned for the mer to surrender to the elements, their beaks keen to peel the meat from her bones. Angrily the age