Tombstonedust

Ten thousand men. A slight in a Tuman, I am the officer of the arban, nine warriors are under my sole command. These nine are an extension of myself - petulant, euphoric, greedy, heroic - I reach out to them with heavy armour and enact my will - the will of the Khan though being Greek they resent the Mongol. You do seem to remember clearly - though long ago - I got spitted on cognac whilst dreaming of drinking black airag; I had slipped on a sliver of moon staring at me; Tengri's absent minded eye or to affect a crude description - a gurgling mouth with whitened teeth staring - the vomit outstripped the muses.