[centre][b]Amazonia Imperiia; Kraith[/b][/centre]

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The journey had been interesting to Kraith, he was not exactly a social butterly, he didn't even truly try to be. He was a spy, an assassin, a part-time necromancer and all too aware of his companions. While not attempting to be unsociable nonetheless he found himself retreating from conversation with his companions settling back to study them, work out the knots of their entanglements, personalities, quirks and... why they were even here.

The one called Count Richelieu was little more at first glance than some pretty-boy by his own race's standards. Personally, Kraith couldn't help but comparing him with the cougher slug. That sickly pink, the golden fuzz on his head. Worse was what he picked up on his magical senses. Kraith had always identified his magical senses as something of a series of scents, and he stunk of self-righteousness and perfumes. An observation that showed itself in how he treated with Queen Alexandria. 

The "Lion" was different, he had no scent of deep abiding magical talent. And yet he smelled ancient. Musty and stale as a freshly opened tomb. Every breath too close to him felt like inhaling from such a tomb, and it didn't help Kraith's opinion of the man that he seemed to be stiff-backed, stiff-necked and entirely certain of himself. Did the man live up to his own opinion of himself? Or was he just a leader out of time as well? Kraith suspected the man would be handy in a fight. But probably too stiff-necked to be relied upon to stand up for a sneaky goblin spy who'd gotten caught. Kraith decided he wouldn't rely on him either, he and the holy mage would be best at the negotiating table anyway plying their fancy words. 

Traxilus was more interesting. While he also stunk of old tombs to Kraith, he didn't seem as stuffy as the general. But even so it didn't take long to figure out that, like the Lion and the Count, Traxilus also lacked any real talent for spying. He was another one who talked a lot, but maybe one who could be spared to stick around with Kraith and swing a sword to protect him if he needed to. 

The Queen was also interesting. Far more interesting. Even if she did stink of wet dog. But even so Kraith had not wasted words on her. With a self-righteous mage who seemed to want to talk her out of her breeches and a pair of old fellows who smelled like professional coffin warmers, all willing to talk her ears off, Kraith figured that the best gift he could give the poor woman was simple peace and quiet, though always politely answering any correspondence she had with him. 

And now here in the Amazon Camp Kraith found himself slightly dismayed. This was not an environment best suited to his skills, but he could make it work. He had, on sighting the camp, adopted the stance that should have hidden him in plain sight. Finally he spoke up to the Queen. "Now may not be the best time to tell you, but it's time I got to work." He shrugged. "If you hear the mating call of an Aasimov worm I could REALLY use some help, sooner than later. I could probably use Traxilus as a shadow in case I get myself into trouble I can't get myself out of." 

Without waiting for confirmation his whole stance changed. Where once a relatively quiet, reserved goblins stood. Now stood a man who looked, busy, harried, put upon,... someone who looked like they belonged there, and would best not be bothered. A busy functionary moving about his masters business. A better disguise than skulking about like some sort of idiot tip-toeing. Most people never did realise that just screamed 'idiot sneaking around' the key to moving unseen was simply to look like you belonged and had a purpose, one that it would be best not to interrupt.

And so Kraith backed off and began his search, eyes open to study everything he saw. He had purpose, locating the Amazon Queen, and Princesses tents. Finding out who came and went from them. Who belonged, who didn't, sense to see if he was in any immediate magical danger, or if there was someone whose magical defences were low enough for him to overwhelm and possess, put him closer to the queen or princess. And, maybe later, he'd do a quick toss of their tents looking for anything incriminating. But not yet. For now he would just get his bearings as the talks began. If push came to shove and their suspicions proved possibly true, maybe he could just open up the guilty womans throat one night.