Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Natib Qadish Discuss Aryador

Darkraine Lockjaw sees the Amzurad (chief lieutenant) Iskrin Nightfire working and reluctantly approaches him with his findings. "Greetings Amzurad." Darkraine lowers his head in respect. Iskrin Nightfire nods silently. "You are well, Ur Qadisuma? (high priest)"

Darkraine nods and replies, "Aye, I have returned from exploring the land of Aryador. It is a wicked land. Not a djinn left in it. They need a ruler with an iron rod to bring them into subjection." Iskrin Nightfire raises his eyebrows, his pale eyes widening. "The Ashera allowed you to go?" he asks. Then, hearing the description, his face darkens. "We will teach them obedience, no doubt." Darkraine Lockjaw lowers his voice and says, "Aye she bid me to go. It is odd to think that our land has been united with them for aeons even before the dust hid the ways. Our Ashera will rule it in no time. They are like camels without a herder."

Iskrin peers at him, "Did any bid you welcome?"

Darkraine sighs and says, "I recieved a cool welcome. None knew what I was. There lore of us seems to be forgotten. But our temple has kept some lore of their races." Iskrin Nightfire nods. "They have forgotten the face of the Djinn," he says, a cruel smiles playing on his lips. "Perhaps we will remind them sooner than they wish. What manner of creatures inhabit that soft land?" Darkraine replies, "There are those called fae, disgusting little bugs. They have insect wings and are very tiny. But they are irreveren, rude and talk too much. There are large green creatures the size of two of us. That creature called himself an orc...I am not sure if that is his name or his race. And humans walk about freely...not as slaves as we once had them. Filthy creatures.

Iskrin Nightfire listens, his head on one side, his teeth grinding in his jaw. "It will make no difference to his fate," he growls. "All will bend the knee or perish where they stand." Darkraine Lockjaw smiles thinking about it, his eyes lowering in reflection. "What of their magic?" Iskrin asks at length. Darkraine smirks at this question, "I have not located any yet. Perhaps they have forgotten it! I suspect they are all idiots to be trampled underfoot."

Iskrin Nightfire nods, his brow creased in thought. "Yet we should not be over confident, brother," he cautions. "They will serve the glory of the Ashera or die, but we would be wise to know them before we strike." Darkraine Lockjaw lowers his head in submission, "Definately. I can only offer what I saw. All depends on the will of the Ashera."

Iskrin Nightfire spits on the floor. "I fear we have grown soft, coddled in our sand and stone. We grow fruit and ferment wine, our noses buried in books." He growls deep within his chest. "We will bring glory to the Ashera, but no drop of our blood will quench the desert's thirst." Iskrin scuffs his boot and turns his pale eyes on the Ur Qadisuma. "When you deliver your report to the Ashera, I would be present," he says darkly.

Darkraine Lockjaw lowers his head much as he hates to do so, "As you wish." Iskrin nods his thanks. "I have business to attend," he announces, turning in a swirl of skirts and moving from the room.