GhostWolf69
Mongoose
Intro
"We were somewhere past the Ruined City at the edge of the ragged desert mountains, when the sand began to take hold. Besides my insane dreaming at night I now started to experience hallucinations during the daytime. Ben scolded for hours, his curses blacker than the heart of Seth. I begged him to give me another pinch but he claimed to have already thrown away what was left of the cursed powder in the wind.
My dreams took a turn for the worse and I lost all sense of time and space. Coiling reptiles hunted me, vivid images of blood and gore filled my mind, and the foul stench of death clung to my nostrils.
I cannot tell for how long this lasted, Ben-al-Khali made camp in the shadows of the cliffs and cared for me. Brought me fresh water from Mitra knows where and it must have been a couple of days before I started to emerge back to reality. It was not the first time he had saved me… but I have saved him from dangers too a couple of times so we didn't keep count anymore.
How long? I asked as I tried to rise from my stinking sick bed in the sand. Three days, he said not looking at me, instead fixing his eyes on the sun-tortured horizon. We'll be late, he continued. Late? For what? I queried. The festival of water… he stood up from his squatted position and threw away the stick he had used to draw pictures in the sand. Mitra, I cursed. But I have gathered some information while you were gone, he said turning around to face me. The youngster you knocked down when we came this way last is alive. He has joined a tribe of nomads, presumably the ones who attacked us, and they are out for blood… ours. I digested this for a few seconds, a lot of questions needed answering but I started of with; How did you find this out? He smiled at me as if hiding a secret. I met with my own people, and they told me the latest news from the desert tribes, and they gave us supplies to last our prolonged visit here. I rose and quietly accepted the food he offered. After chewing the dried meat for a good while I said. So now the whelp wants my head on a pig pole? Let him try, and I'll colour the desert red from Zamboula to Ataku with the blood of his kin.
Ben readied our horses and we took off once more. I was still weak from my fever, but I got stronger by the hour. Two days later we came across the last oasis before Lemina, and a strange sight met us.
In the middle of the oasis, surrounded by what could only be dead bandits and perched upon a hoards of crates, chests and bundles of satin and other luxuries, sat an old man. He was short and husky, with long white moustaches that framed his chin. He wore rich, lavish clothing and brandished a Stygian bow. He looked Zamoran but I was not sure.
I counted at least ten corpses around him, all feathered with arrows and as we approached he nocked another. If you intend to steal my cargo like these other hooligans you have to think again, before I send you down the river Styx to meet your judgement. We halted, You sure don't look Stygian to me, old man. I greeted him, and after a shared meal he told us his story and how he might be interested to enlist our help."
To Be Continued
Second part of the story is underway...
/wolf
"We were somewhere past the Ruined City at the edge of the ragged desert mountains, when the sand began to take hold. Besides my insane dreaming at night I now started to experience hallucinations during the daytime. Ben scolded for hours, his curses blacker than the heart of Seth. I begged him to give me another pinch but he claimed to have already thrown away what was left of the cursed powder in the wind.
My dreams took a turn for the worse and I lost all sense of time and space. Coiling reptiles hunted me, vivid images of blood and gore filled my mind, and the foul stench of death clung to my nostrils.
I cannot tell for how long this lasted, Ben-al-Khali made camp in the shadows of the cliffs and cared for me. Brought me fresh water from Mitra knows where and it must have been a couple of days before I started to emerge back to reality. It was not the first time he had saved me… but I have saved him from dangers too a couple of times so we didn't keep count anymore.
How long? I asked as I tried to rise from my stinking sick bed in the sand. Three days, he said not looking at me, instead fixing his eyes on the sun-tortured horizon. We'll be late, he continued. Late? For what? I queried. The festival of water… he stood up from his squatted position and threw away the stick he had used to draw pictures in the sand. Mitra, I cursed. But I have gathered some information while you were gone, he said turning around to face me. The youngster you knocked down when we came this way last is alive. He has joined a tribe of nomads, presumably the ones who attacked us, and they are out for blood… ours. I digested this for a few seconds, a lot of questions needed answering but I started of with; How did you find this out? He smiled at me as if hiding a secret. I met with my own people, and they told me the latest news from the desert tribes, and they gave us supplies to last our prolonged visit here. I rose and quietly accepted the food he offered. After chewing the dried meat for a good while I said. So now the whelp wants my head on a pig pole? Let him try, and I'll colour the desert red from Zamboula to Ataku with the blood of his kin.
Ben readied our horses and we took off once more. I was still weak from my fever, but I got stronger by the hour. Two days later we came across the last oasis before Lemina, and a strange sight met us.
In the middle of the oasis, surrounded by what could only be dead bandits and perched upon a hoards of crates, chests and bundles of satin and other luxuries, sat an old man. He was short and husky, with long white moustaches that framed his chin. He wore rich, lavish clothing and brandished a Stygian bow. He looked Zamoran but I was not sure.
I counted at least ten corpses around him, all feathered with arrows and as we approached he nocked another. If you intend to steal my cargo like these other hooligans you have to think again, before I send you down the river Styx to meet your judgement. We halted, You sure don't look Stygian to me, old man. I greeted him, and after a shared meal he told us his story and how he might be interested to enlist our help."
To Be Continued
Second part of the story is underway...
/wolf
