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Description
The final (?) picture of this little Hyborian series of mine, after "Archer" [link] ," Gladiatrix" [link] and "Deva" [link] , this time featuring a far eastern themed girl I've decided to name Suyin. Desc like always is courtesy of . A contest will be coming soon as well, so stay tuned!

***

Laughter echoed across the wind-swept eastern steppes, as the warriors of the Great Khan sat in their felt tents and sipped mugs of fermented mare's milk in the light of the burning city. The screams of the foreign king had long since ceased: the warriors had built their tent over him, and crushed him slowly to death with their celebrating under the floor boards, as was customary for the kings of conquered lands. Now, in the distance, the crows pecked at the eyes of the fallen enemy as in the shadows, the women wept and wailed their dismay.

It was then that Juvani, a warrior old in war, grey-haired and broken-horned, but wise in the ways of bow and spear, turned to his warriors and asked the traditional question. "My brothers!" he shouted, raising his mug of kumiss to the sacred father sky. "My brothers! Today, the mighty warriors of the Khan stand triumphant over the bodies of the enemy! This is a good thing! But it is not what is best in life. So tell me, my brothers: what is best in life!"

It was an old question, and a fine one, and one that the warriors of the Khan answered to the best of their ability, and in so doing, spoke of their dreams and hopes in life. Young Jelme answered first. "My uncle," he said, standing unsteadily on his uncertain feet. "I say that there are four things that are good in life, and they are the open steppe, a fleet mount, a fine falcon on your wrist, and the freedom to roam where you choose!"

Laughter greeted his answer, but it was a pleasant laughter, a fond laughter, an approving laughter at youthful excess. "Nay," said old Batu, as he stabbed his heavy war-spear into the earth. "Those are the answers of a callow youth. For a warrior, there can be no greater joy than this: to crush your enemies under your heel. To see them flee before your wrath. And to hear his women wail in lamentation!"

Even more laughter now, accented with martial cries by the warriors who had killed enemies that day, and with respectful salutes to the fallen. "A good answer," sly Arike said, "but not the best answer. What good is war without plunder? Vanquishing your enemies is good, but it is better to rob him of his wealth, to see those he loves with their faces bathed in tears, and to take to your bed his wives and his daughters." The last he said while pulling at the rope around the neck of the foreign princess he had taken as plunder, interrupting her silent weeping at the cruel fate that had led her to this end.

Even more nods of assent, as the men considered the truth of this fact. But then young Temjin stood and spoke. "All these are fine things," he admitted, "and I am a young man, and given to passions of the heart that the wise do not answer. But in my eyes, there can be no finer things than these: the beauty of the Khan's daugher, the lovely Suyin; the elegance of her horns, and the curves of her body; the grace of her hooves and the sky-blue of her eyes. But finest of all is her loveliness in battle, the swiftness of her spear and the terror of her battle cry."

There was silence, then, broken only by the sound of crickets. All eyes slowly turned to where the lovely Suyin sat at the feet of her father's throne, the great Khan, who slowly crushed his golden goblet in a huge fist, his eyes burning with silent anger at the affront. But then a hand was placed on his arm, quelling his anger. "Your words are flattering, young warrior," Suyin crooned. She took a ring from her horn and tossed it at young Temjin's feet. "But words will not be sufficient for you to win my hand and succeed my father's throne."

Temjin smiled. He reached down, took the ring in his hand, and kissed it before placing it upon his own horn. "You will find," he said softly, "that my skill at words, however great, is only the least of my talents."

Suyin could not help but smile at his bold words. "Then," she said softly, "I will wish you all the blessings of Father Sky when you come to strive for my hand in marriage."

There was laughter, then, and cheering, and then a warrior began to raise a rhythm on a large, heavy drum, and then shouting and dancing began. But through it all, Temjin and Suyin sat, eyes locked, never turning away.

Description
The final (?) picture of this little Hyborian series of mine, after "Archer" [link] ," Gladiatrix" [link] and "Deva" [link] , this time featuring a far eastern themed girl I've decided to name Suyin. Desc like always is courtesy of . A contest will be coming soon as well, so stay tuned!

***

Laughter echoed across the wind-swept eastern steppes, as the warriors of the Great Khan sat in their felt tents and sipped mugs of fermented mare's milk in the light of the burning city. The screams of the foreign king had long since ceased: the warriors had built their tent over him, and crushed him slowly to death with their celebrating under the floor boards, as was customary for the kings of conquered lands. Now, in the distance, the crows pecked at the eyes of the fallen enemy as in the shadows, the women wept and wailed their dismay.

It was then that Juvani, a warrior old in war, grey-haired and broken-horned, but wise in the ways of bow and spear, turned to his warriors and asked the traditional question. "My brothers!" he shouted, raising his mug of kumiss to the sacred father sky. "My brothers! Today, the mighty warriors of the Khan stand triumphant over the bodies of the enemy! This is a good thing! But it is not what is best in life. So tell me, my brothers: what is best in life!"

It was an old question, and a fine one, and one that the warriors of the Khan answered to the best of their ability, and in so doing, spoke of their dreams and hopes in life. Young Jelme answered first. "My uncle," he said, standing unsteadily on his uncertain feet. "I say that there are four things that are good in life, and they are the open steppe, a fleet mount, a fine falcon on your wrist, and the freedom to roam where you choose!"

Laughter greeted his answer, but it was a pleasant laughter, a fond laughter, an approving laughter at youthful excess. "Nay," said old Batu, as he stabbed his heavy war-spear into the earth. "Those are the answers of a callow youth. For a warrior, there can be no greater joy than this: to crush your enemies under your heel. To see them flee before your wrath. And to hear his women wail in lamentation!"

Even more laughter now, accented with martial cries by the warriors who had killed enemies that day, and with respectful salutes to the fallen. "A good answer," sly Arike said, "but not the best answer. What good is war without plunder? Vanquishing your enemies is good, but it is better to rob him of his wealth, to see those he loves with their faces bathed in tears, and to take to your bed his wives and his daughters." The last he said while pulling at the rope around the neck of the foreign princess he had taken as plunder, interrupting her silent weeping at the cruel fate that had led her to this end.

Even more nods of assent, as the men considered the truth of this fact. But then young Temjin stood and spoke. "All these are fine things," he admitted, "and I am a young man, and given to passions of the heart that the wise do not answer. But in my eyes, there can be no finer things than these: the beauty of the Khan's daugher, the lovely Suyin; the elegance of her horns, and the curves of her body; the grace of her hooves and the sky-blue of her eyes. But finest of all is her loveliness in battle, the swiftness of her spear and the terror of her battle cry."

There was silence, then, broken only by the sound of crickets. All eyes slowly turned to where the lovely Suyin sat at the feet of her father's throne, the great Khan, who slowly crushed his golden goblet in a huge fist, his eyes burning with silent anger at the affront. But then a hand was placed on his arm, quelling his anger. "Your words are flattering, young warrior," Suyin crooned. She took a ring from her horn and tossed it at young Temjin's feet. "But words will not be sufficient for you to win my hand and succeed my father's throne."

Temjin smiled. He reached down, took the ring in his hand, and kissed it before placing it upon his own horn. "You will find," he said softly, "that my skill at words, however great, is only the least of my talents."

Suyin could not help but smile at his bold words. "Then," she said softly, "I will wish you all the blessings of Father Sky when you come to strive for my hand in marriage."

There was laughter, then, and cheering, and then a warrior began to raise a rhythm on a large, heavy drum, and then shouting and dancing began. But through it all, Temjin and Suyin sat, eyes locked, never turning away.