"Merda," Maverick cursed as he could not even rose himself without flinching of pain. The cries about djinns did not register at first, till he saw the shaman running around, slicing throats. With a sick feeling in his stomach he praised the One he was still healthy enough to survive. The People were ruthless. They needed it to survive in the merciless desert. Even after all these years it still gave Maverick the creeps but he hid it behind a stoic mask. Briefly he wondered if T'kil would kill his wife too. Probably not. Yet she was in grave danger of being possessed, unless she had surrounded herself with some kind of local magick.
How did one mentally prepare for a djinn intent on taking charge of your body, your soul, Mav wondered as he watched the approaching dust devils. He decided to cast his luck with his youth and continued his prayers to the One whispering "You are my Shield, oh Lord of the Light, in You I trust."
Dancing on a Dragon's Back - Samheen 28 ET
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Arigha guided Jack to a nearby stretch of rock.
"There you are. I do not know if it is best to make yourself comfortable or to use the pain to add strength to your will. heed the words of the shaman."
She left him there and went quickly to do as T'Kil had suggested. She was heartened to hear that the djinn could not bring the dead to life, but was not happy about the necessity of ending so many lives.
Yet, they would have died anyway from exposure. You could not have saved them all. At least they will be spared being possessed as a final insult.
So ran her thoughts as she used her dagger for the very first time on something that was not food. Her aunt had given it that Arigha might defend herself, but the girl was sure that the present situation quite exceeded the intent. She had never killed a human before, but blood was blood and a deep cut at the spot that throbbed on a person's neck was a swift way to end a life. She learned from T'Kil's cuts, trying to get to as many as possible on her own since the shaman was injured.
"Shaman! What of that woman? The guarrdi named her Amica. She wore that amulet."
She pointed to the spot on the ground.
"I took it off because I thought it was hurting her."
Arigha had felt a sort of kinship with the woman. Another sister of the people who had the strength to defy tradition. That thought was interrupted as she came to where Maverick stood. She gazed at him in alarm.
"This one is babbling nonesense about Lords of Light!"
There was panic in her voice.
"Is it possible he is already taken?"
She readied her blade to strike if he proved a threat.
"There you are. I do not know if it is best to make yourself comfortable or to use the pain to add strength to your will. heed the words of the shaman."
She left him there and went quickly to do as T'Kil had suggested. She was heartened to hear that the djinn could not bring the dead to life, but was not happy about the necessity of ending so many lives.
Yet, they would have died anyway from exposure. You could not have saved them all. At least they will be spared being possessed as a final insult.
So ran her thoughts as she used her dagger for the very first time on something that was not food. Her aunt had given it that Arigha might defend herself, but the girl was sure that the present situation quite exceeded the intent. She had never killed a human before, but blood was blood and a deep cut at the spot that throbbed on a person's neck was a swift way to end a life. She learned from T'Kil's cuts, trying to get to as many as possible on her own since the shaman was injured.
"Shaman! What of that woman? The guarrdi named her Amica. She wore that amulet."
She pointed to the spot on the ground.
"I took it off because I thought it was hurting her."
Arigha had felt a sort of kinship with the woman. Another sister of the people who had the strength to defy tradition. That thought was interrupted as she came to where Maverick stood. She gazed at him in alarm.
"This one is babbling nonesense about Lords of Light!"
There was panic in her voice.
"Is it possible he is already taken?"
She readied her blade to strike if he proved a threat.
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Maverick did not stand because pushing himself up before his dislocated arm had been reset and the other bound would just bring him unfathomable pain. He was however perfectly able to glare at the long lithe female and more importantly use his legs and feet.
"If you lay even one hand upon me, Brutta, you will regret it the rest of your very short life," he promised Arigha menacingly, reading himself to kick her feet out from under her "T'Kil, call back your killing dogs and save your signora Amica from a similar fate."
He did not pray at that instance but his entire attitude was one of Mouthie belligerence and cockiness, the very essence of the Oneist variation that the Prodesse celebrated.
"If you lay even one hand upon me, Brutta, you will regret it the rest of your very short life," he promised Arigha menacingly, reading himself to kick her feet out from under her "T'Kil, call back your killing dogs and save your signora Amica from a similar fate."
He did not pray at that instance but his entire attitude was one of Mouthie belligerence and cockiness, the very essence of the Oneist variation that the Prodesse celebrated.
Last edited by Guest on Sat Nov 18, 2006 4:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Had she understood his insult, the reaction might have been much different, for Arigha was more than a little vain. But as she did not speak his dialect, and she was quite relieved not to be facing a djinn-ridden guarrdi, she simply laughed. It was a throaty, booming sound that bore not the least resemblance to tittering tinkling bells that other maids might emulate. When Arigha laughed, it was to release emotion rather than show appreciation.
"Relax, little man. You are obviously strong enough to cling to what life you have left. You just gave me a fright with your strange words. If you are nice, I might be persuaded to wrap that wound so you can see a little better."
"Relax, little man. You are obviously strong enough to cling to what life you have left. You just gave me a fright with your strange words. If you are nice, I might be persuaded to wrap that wound so you can see a little better."
There was an art to throat-cutting, and one at which the Black tribe shaman seemed to be disturbingly proficient. Arigha was unable to reproduce his results every time, and sometimes more than one slash was required to finish the job. The disadvantage to this method of ending lives, of course, was the vast quantity of blood that spurted out at every cut - and Arigha was unable to avoid her robes being spattered with crimson from the gushing, pooling liquid. Meanwhile, one of the dustclouds had peeled off, bobbing away across the sand, leaving two at the foot of the ridge. The spirits seemed to hesitate before advancing.
When T'kil heard Arigha mention Amica, he cursed even more loudly than before, rushing over to the prone body of his "wife" as fast as his injured leg would permit. "Here... but her spirit is elsewhere?" he muttered disbelievingly. "How...?"
The problem was evident. Strong, uninjured and totally unoccupied by her waking mind, the body of Amica was an almost irresistible lure to the djinn... but he could never simply slit her throat. Not after all they had been through together - not before all they had yet to go through. For a few flickers the shaman looked more lost and confused than Maverick or Jack had even seen him. Then his features set in resolution. "Complete change of plan," he announced. "Do exactly as I tell you. Please, trust me. It may be the only way for any of us to survive this."
Rapidly he dipped a finger into the blood pooling on his injured arm, and in it traced a glyph upon the girl's forehead. "Jack, Maverick, each of you must draw a circle in the sand around you. When the djinn comes, you must let it inside. Do not leave the circle - and be strong. Be ready to push the creature out."
With this, a woefully inadequate piece of advice, dispensed, he turned to face the two advancing spirits, waving his good arm above his head. "Spirits of the desert!" he hailed them - and now he seemed to somehow be speaking on two levels, his audible voice simply an overlay for deeper, darker words. "I offer you a challenge, a little game, if you will! Is she not beautiful? Does she not look strong?" He gestured to the prone body of Amica, more than a hint of pride in his voice. "And she is empty to receive you." He grinned broadly, maniacally.
"I offer you this game," he announced. "Here are two wounded guarrdi." Now his arm swept round to indicate first Maverick and then Jack. "My challenge to you is this: whichever of you is the stronger, and can show your strength by entering and healing one of these two fastest, shall have this glorious vessel for himself. But you must play by the rules. Bone, sinew and skin must be renewed completely. Only then will I remove the protection of the girl. Is that clear?" he yelled. "Do you wish to play?"
The sandcloud spirits bobbed and ducked, but only a few flickers elapsed before their response came skittering back across the sands. Playgame, bindtogether, for-girl! We playgame!
When T'kil heard Arigha mention Amica, he cursed even more loudly than before, rushing over to the prone body of his "wife" as fast as his injured leg would permit. "Here... but her spirit is elsewhere?" he muttered disbelievingly. "How...?"
The problem was evident. Strong, uninjured and totally unoccupied by her waking mind, the body of Amica was an almost irresistible lure to the djinn... but he could never simply slit her throat. Not after all they had been through together - not before all they had yet to go through. For a few flickers the shaman looked more lost and confused than Maverick or Jack had even seen him. Then his features set in resolution. "Complete change of plan," he announced. "Do exactly as I tell you. Please, trust me. It may be the only way for any of us to survive this."
Rapidly he dipped a finger into the blood pooling on his injured arm, and in it traced a glyph upon the girl's forehead. "Jack, Maverick, each of you must draw a circle in the sand around you. When the djinn comes, you must let it inside. Do not leave the circle - and be strong. Be ready to push the creature out."
With this, a woefully inadequate piece of advice, dispensed, he turned to face the two advancing spirits, waving his good arm above his head. "Spirits of the desert!" he hailed them - and now he seemed to somehow be speaking on two levels, his audible voice simply an overlay for deeper, darker words. "I offer you a challenge, a little game, if you will! Is she not beautiful? Does she not look strong?" He gestured to the prone body of Amica, more than a hint of pride in his voice. "And she is empty to receive you." He grinned broadly, maniacally.
"I offer you this game," he announced. "Here are two wounded guarrdi." Now his arm swept round to indicate first Maverick and then Jack. "My challenge to you is this: whichever of you is the stronger, and can show your strength by entering and healing one of these two fastest, shall have this glorious vessel for himself. But you must play by the rules. Bone, sinew and skin must be renewed completely. Only then will I remove the protection of the girl. Is that clear?" he yelled. "Do you wish to play?"
The sandcloud spirits bobbed and ducked, but only a few flickers elapsed before their response came skittering back across the sands. Playgame, bindtogether, for-girl! We playgame!
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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Her laughter was pleasant. Despite the gruesome bloodsplattered picture of ruthlessness she made the native girl retained a femininity that Maverick hadn't thought to find. To him, born and bred in the Mouth, women were clad in lace or velvet, in gigantic gowns that were large sail ships floating over the ocean. Of course, he had seen female People of the Sand before, even on occasion dallied with them, but this was different. In a very real, dangerous way she was all woman. A rueful grin appeared on his face, white teeth flashing "I am not used to being called little, signora" he murmured amused, well aware of the double entendre "Nor do I think I shall see better if you treat my arm. However, your ministrations are welcome nonetheless mio divina. If you promise to lay off on the slashing of throats I promise to lay off on scaring you. "
T'Kil's stress was clear. Maverick could not blame the man for trying to save Amica. He much preferred to have the stubborn shaman girl alive too. For a moment he played with the notion of having the girls to himself if Jack and T'Kil were taken by djinns. It was however but a moments temptation before his rough honor reasserted itself and kicked him in the balls. Or was that the compass?
"Help me draw a circle girl," he croaked at Arigha, "For my arms are useless. I will do this, for myself and for the woman." There was no choice. He had thrown in his lot with Amica a long time ago and surprisingly he was still alive. He piously decided it was the One guiding him, not his breeches.
T'Kil's stress was clear. Maverick could not blame the man for trying to save Amica. He much preferred to have the stubborn shaman girl alive too. For a moment he played with the notion of having the girls to himself if Jack and T'Kil were taken by djinns. It was however but a moments temptation before his rough honor reasserted itself and kicked him in the balls. Or was that the compass?
"Help me draw a circle girl," he croaked at Arigha, "For my arms are useless. I will do this, for myself and for the woman." There was no choice. He had thrown in his lot with Amica a long time ago and surprisingly he was still alive. He piously decided it was the One guiding him, not his breeches.
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Jack Farrell
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Jack saw his plan, he only hoped he was strong enough to fulfil it himself.
"Jack trailed a ring in the dust with one hand, stifling his cries as he felt something disconnect in his chest. The ring complete, he collapsed back into the dust, the rocks supporting him in a sitting position.
He looked out, still half night-blind. He could just about make out the Dj'inn, cavorting on the cool night breeze. He had heard the girl and T'kill finishing the wounded. He wondered would T'kill have ended him also had he not retained his wits. Melancholy thoughts, he pushed them aside and centred himself. He had never been possessed before.
"Come on then camel-shit." Jack breathed into the frosty air. "Play with me."
"Jack trailed a ring in the dust with one hand, stifling his cries as he felt something disconnect in his chest. The ring complete, he collapsed back into the dust, the rocks supporting him in a sitting position.
He looked out, still half night-blind. He could just about make out the Dj'inn, cavorting on the cool night breeze. He had heard the girl and T'kill finishing the wounded. He wondered would T'kill have ended him also had he not retained his wits. Melancholy thoughts, he pushed them aside and centred himself. He had never been possessed before.
"Come on then camel-shit." Jack breathed into the frosty air. "Play with me."
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Arigha was caught completely by surprise: the woman was the shaman's wife? Would it be the undoing of them all: that he would risk them all to save her life. It seemed unwise, but the romantic in her was fluttery with the display.
Here is a man who knows how to love a woman. I only hope it does not mean our deaths. Be strong, brother.
The woman was confused at T'Kil's orders until he addressed the djinn. Then she was delighted with the trick. It was just like in the old stories. But would it work...
Arigha dutifully helped Maverick with his outline. She was unable to resist reiterating the shamans' warnings to the guarrdi.
"Be strong. No matter what it offers, it will only be your doom if you fail to heed the shaman's word."
Realizing she might only be making things worse by concentrating on the negative, she quickly added:
"Besides, if you don't survive, who will there be for me to dance my celebration with?"
Preparations made, Arigha bent her attention on tracking the movements of the whirlwind that had not approached to play T'Kil's game. Where had the third djinn gone?
Here is a man who knows how to love a woman. I only hope it does not mean our deaths. Be strong, brother.
The woman was confused at T'Kil's orders until he addressed the djinn. Then she was delighted with the trick. It was just like in the old stories. But would it work...
Arigha dutifully helped Maverick with his outline. She was unable to resist reiterating the shamans' warnings to the guarrdi.
"Be strong. No matter what it offers, it will only be your doom if you fail to heed the shaman's word."
Realizing she might only be making things worse by concentrating on the negative, she quickly added:
"Besides, if you don't survive, who will there be for me to dance my celebration with?"
Preparations made, Arigha bent her attention on tracking the movements of the whirlwind that had not approached to play T'Kil's game. Where had the third djinn gone?
No longer did the dust devils deviate from their path. The pair sped directly and purposefully towards the two wounded men, one condensing and snaking its way into Maverick's mouth a flicker or two before the other entered Jack.
Both men found themselves edged out of control of their body by the newcomers, if not out of body entirely. Djinn healing was a strange concept, for the desert spirits had absolutely no concern for the patients they were treating. To them, the human body was little more than a complicated jigsaw puzzle... and they approached that puzzle as would little children, simply ramming the pieces into place as soon as they had a vague idea of what went where. Maverick's dislocated shoulder, for example, was simply smashed back into place as if hit with a sledgehammer. The broken bones in Jack's left leg were pressed heavily together, seeming to melt down and reform in their place as tiny pulses of energy beetled through his body.
The whole experience would have been excruciatingly painful were it not for the fact that there was a certain distance between the two men and their bodies. Maverick's was the more active spirit, and the Sabatan was able to witness the bizarre sight of his own limbs being thrown about wildly by their new driver. All the time, however, a thread ran between their minds and their bodies, one that it seemed incredibly important to hold onto if they wanted to avoid being blown away into the realm of lost souls... and it was not an easy task to do so. Even experienced shamen of the Black Tribe rarely let djinn ride them, and with good cause. The spirits fought abrasively to maintain a hold on their new suit of flesh. Fortunately for Maverick and Jack, the focus of these djinn wasn't on taking over their bodies. They had another body in mind, and their energies were diverted into fulfilling T'kil's contract.
Tracing a dustcloud across the desert was usually a difficult task even for one of the People such as Arigha. Luckily, evening was falling, and the immense heat that rose in shimmering waves from the sands while the sun was at its height had diminished by now. The third djinn was taking its time, pursuing a meandering route to the south of the ridge, where it would soon pass out of sight... but rightfully not out of mind.
Both men found themselves edged out of control of their body by the newcomers, if not out of body entirely. Djinn healing was a strange concept, for the desert spirits had absolutely no concern for the patients they were treating. To them, the human body was little more than a complicated jigsaw puzzle... and they approached that puzzle as would little children, simply ramming the pieces into place as soon as they had a vague idea of what went where. Maverick's dislocated shoulder, for example, was simply smashed back into place as if hit with a sledgehammer. The broken bones in Jack's left leg were pressed heavily together, seeming to melt down and reform in their place as tiny pulses of energy beetled through his body.
The whole experience would have been excruciatingly painful were it not for the fact that there was a certain distance between the two men and their bodies. Maverick's was the more active spirit, and the Sabatan was able to witness the bizarre sight of his own limbs being thrown about wildly by their new driver. All the time, however, a thread ran between their minds and their bodies, one that it seemed incredibly important to hold onto if they wanted to avoid being blown away into the realm of lost souls... and it was not an easy task to do so. Even experienced shamen of the Black Tribe rarely let djinn ride them, and with good cause. The spirits fought abrasively to maintain a hold on their new suit of flesh. Fortunately for Maverick and Jack, the focus of these djinn wasn't on taking over their bodies. They had another body in mind, and their energies were diverted into fulfilling T'kil's contract.
Tracing a dustcloud across the desert was usually a difficult task even for one of the People such as Arigha. Luckily, evening was falling, and the immense heat that rose in shimmering waves from the sands while the sun was at its height had diminished by now. The third djinn was taking its time, pursuing a meandering route to the south of the ridge, where it would soon pass out of sight... but rightfully not out of mind.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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pain
Jack was aware of it, but he did not feel it. All he felt was the terrible suction of the aether trying to engulf his soul. That thread was all he had left and no power on this earth would make him lose that, he had far too much to fulfil. That dance with the girl for a start.
"Hell no." He breathed, clawing his way back. He knew he had to wait, let the D'jinn finish its task firstly, but Jack wanted to make sure that the D'jinn did not simply feel capable of walking off in his body if he decided against T'kill's game. And so Jack's soul clawed, waiting for his body to renew before he delved back and wrestled the D'jinn from its perch.
Jack was aware of it, but he did not feel it. All he felt was the terrible suction of the aether trying to engulf his soul. That thread was all he had left and no power on this earth would make him lose that, he had far too much to fulfil. That dance with the girl for a start.
"Hell no." He breathed, clawing his way back. He knew he had to wait, let the D'jinn finish its task firstly, but Jack wanted to make sure that the D'jinn did not simply feel capable of walking off in his body if he decided against T'kill's game. And so Jack's soul clawed, waiting for his body to renew before he delved back and wrestled the D'jinn from its perch.
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The djinn inhabiting Maverick finished its task a flicker before the other, roaring its way up and out of the man's throat and erupting from his mouth as a mini-tornado of sandy air. Maverick was easily able to return to his body, almost as if he were sucked into the vacuum left by the departing spirit. Flickers later the same happened to Jack.
Both men's bodies were intact and remarkably, mercifully pain-free... allowing other stimuli to assail their senses. Neither had any way of knowing how long their nightmarish journey through the spirit realm had taken, but the intense hunger and thirst that now hit them was several days' worth.
Gleefully Maverick's djinn closed the gap to Amica's prone body - and was repelled, the crimson rune on her forehead flashing. Indignation was evident in the spirit's rasping "voice". Iheal playgame nobody! Shaman trick!
T'kil did not waste words on a response. Instead he scythed his knife across his palm - and the warm liquid that spurted out seemed to form a rune in mid-air before plummeting onto the djinn. Where the blood made contact with the spirit, grey-green flames flared, and the djinn shrieked in pain, dwindling to nothing within three flickers and leaving a foul, acrid smell in the surrounding air as its legacy.
Weakened, the shaman dropped his dagger and collapsed to his knees. Jack's djinn buzzed around him like an angry wasp, and T'kil waved his good arm at it, simply trying to bat it aside. The too-deep gash on his hand still flowed, and now it was T'kil who was the most in danger from the being. In the meantime, though, Amica was beginning to stir.
Reaching a crest in the ridge, Arigha could see the third djinn clearly - and its target. One man, a large, moustached fellow, had fallen onto a spur of rock away from the rest of the wreckage and bodies, and he still stirred limply. It was to this man that the desert spirit was headed, and he appeared far too weak to put up any resistance.
Both men's bodies were intact and remarkably, mercifully pain-free... allowing other stimuli to assail their senses. Neither had any way of knowing how long their nightmarish journey through the spirit realm had taken, but the intense hunger and thirst that now hit them was several days' worth.
Gleefully Maverick's djinn closed the gap to Amica's prone body - and was repelled, the crimson rune on her forehead flashing. Indignation was evident in the spirit's rasping "voice". Iheal playgame nobody! Shaman trick!
T'kil did not waste words on a response. Instead he scythed his knife across his palm - and the warm liquid that spurted out seemed to form a rune in mid-air before plummeting onto the djinn. Where the blood made contact with the spirit, grey-green flames flared, and the djinn shrieked in pain, dwindling to nothing within three flickers and leaving a foul, acrid smell in the surrounding air as its legacy.
Weakened, the shaman dropped his dagger and collapsed to his knees. Jack's djinn buzzed around him like an angry wasp, and T'kil waved his good arm at it, simply trying to bat it aside. The too-deep gash on his hand still flowed, and now it was T'kil who was the most in danger from the being. In the meantime, though, Amica was beginning to stir.
Reaching a crest in the ridge, Arigha could see the third djinn clearly - and its target. One man, a large, moustached fellow, had fallen onto a spur of rock away from the rest of the wreckage and bodies, and he still stirred limply. It was to this man that the desert spirit was headed, and he appeared far too weak to put up any resistance.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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Falling, falling.
She knew the sensation well, and she knew well why she felt as she did. Slipping out of the Aether...the Spirit World where Gods, spirits, ghosts and totems lived...Amica plunged back into her body without ever actually moving. In the past, she had walked the Spirit World flesh and blood, but this time it was nothing more than dream...a sensible result given that she was not with the Peshawgo. Beckon to her he could...and they could meet in dreams...but without him to carry her, she could not enter the Aether in any other way.
To make war upon Dragon Kind. Such a thing seemed foolish to her, but it was this she had seen in her vision. She would make war upon them...upon those that would give the curse to live and those that would see the People perish...but she knew not how. What brings Dragon low? thought Amica. The very idea that anything could was almost ridiculous to her, and she had not given that promise without the clear understanding that such a thing could not help but cost her her life. The only weapon she had against the Beast was her magic...and her magic was a gift from Dragon Kind eons ago, was it not? Are there no other weapons that might slay the Beast? I have seen a Great Dragon defeated, but it was not defeated by a man. It was defeated by...
ZzZZZZZzzzzzzZZZZzzzzzz....
It was not the burning heat of the sand or the raw serrations of the hot desert wind that gave Amica to stir. It was a sound...the sound of a djinn. A simple spirit as spirits went, Amica had been possessed by their kind in the past...and she had negotiated with them as well, creatures that cared nothing for matters of the mortal heart. A rune of protection flared upon her forehead...she could not recall how it came to be placed upon her...that finally gave her eyes to snap open.
The djinni was just above her where T'kil batted at it furiously, unable to dispell it. Another djinn moved a short distance away, seeking the form of a man recovering amid a pile of rubble that would be the final monument to Flying Machine. What omen is this? smiled Amica, unable to feel the dread or fear she might otherwise have known amid such devilish creatures. I have seen Great Dragon brought low...by a djinni. Can this weapon be used? she pondered, imagining how best to capture one of the spirits. Perhaps she could do so...but for now, this was too dangerous. For now, they must be driven away or controlled. Or trapped.
Reaching forward, Amica sought out T'kil's knife from his own sheath, for it would be close at hand and still wet with his blood. "T'huh ictus Fles!" murmured the younger of the shaman, lending her power to the knife. Earth binds Air, that this knife will pierce you, she chanted, waving the blade to match the glyphs she would need before she would plunge the weapon not through the djinni...but through the djinni and into the sandy, rocky ground just beneath it, a very real blade empowered to snare a very unreal spirit in place such that they could scramble away and attend to the other renegade dust devil.
She knew the sensation well, and she knew well why she felt as she did. Slipping out of the Aether...the Spirit World where Gods, spirits, ghosts and totems lived...Amica plunged back into her body without ever actually moving. In the past, she had walked the Spirit World flesh and blood, but this time it was nothing more than dream...a sensible result given that she was not with the Peshawgo. Beckon to her he could...and they could meet in dreams...but without him to carry her, she could not enter the Aether in any other way.
To make war upon Dragon Kind. Such a thing seemed foolish to her, but it was this she had seen in her vision. She would make war upon them...upon those that would give the curse to live and those that would see the People perish...but she knew not how. What brings Dragon low? thought Amica. The very idea that anything could was almost ridiculous to her, and she had not given that promise without the clear understanding that such a thing could not help but cost her her life. The only weapon she had against the Beast was her magic...and her magic was a gift from Dragon Kind eons ago, was it not? Are there no other weapons that might slay the Beast? I have seen a Great Dragon defeated, but it was not defeated by a man. It was defeated by...
ZzZZZZZzzzzzzZZZZzzzzzz....
It was not the burning heat of the sand or the raw serrations of the hot desert wind that gave Amica to stir. It was a sound...the sound of a djinn. A simple spirit as spirits went, Amica had been possessed by their kind in the past...and she had negotiated with them as well, creatures that cared nothing for matters of the mortal heart. A rune of protection flared upon her forehead...she could not recall how it came to be placed upon her...that finally gave her eyes to snap open.
The djinni was just above her where T'kil batted at it furiously, unable to dispell it. Another djinn moved a short distance away, seeking the form of a man recovering amid a pile of rubble that would be the final monument to Flying Machine. What omen is this? smiled Amica, unable to feel the dread or fear she might otherwise have known amid such devilish creatures. I have seen Great Dragon brought low...by a djinni. Can this weapon be used? she pondered, imagining how best to capture one of the spirits. Perhaps she could do so...but for now, this was too dangerous. For now, they must be driven away or controlled. Or trapped.
Reaching forward, Amica sought out T'kil's knife from his own sheath, for it would be close at hand and still wet with his blood. "T'huh ictus Fles!" murmured the younger of the shaman, lending her power to the knife. Earth binds Air, that this knife will pierce you, she chanted, waving the blade to match the glyphs she would need before she would plunge the weapon not through the djinni...but through the djinni and into the sandy, rocky ground just beneath it, a very real blade empowered to snare a very unreal spirit in place such that they could scramble away and attend to the other renegade dust devil.
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Jack Farrell
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Dumped suddenly into his body, Jack rasped in one blissfully pain free breath. Looking around him he knew that the situation was way beyond him. D'jinn were stories to him, tales come to life. Then again, so had been the dragon. Jack regained his senses and saw that T'kill was failing, he could have done with a little D'jinn healing himself. Unsure of himself, Jack prepared to try and wrestle the wind itself when he saw Amica stiring.
that girl has too many lives
that girl has too many lives
The energies Amica sought responded readily to her invocation, leaping to her blade. With all her experiences, the young shaman was a veritable conduit to the Aether realm whence they originated, and the simple energies she applied were more than willing to submit themselves to her.
Striking out at the djinn, though, was another matter. A creature of the windswept wastes, being captured and bound was its very antithesis, something it feared beyond all else. From a practical point of view the task was rendered extremely difficult by its twirling, chaotic movements and its incorporeal form as it zipped and darted around the older shaman's head. Nevertheless, Amica's enchanted blade clipped part of its sandy tail, and sheared through with ease, the same green-grey flame as earlier forming on contact. Close to the flame, Amica's blade hand could feel the cold it emitted.
With a shriek like the rending of sheet metal, the djinn recoiled from the attack. These humans were more than it had anticipated. They were in possession of ancient magics and weapons that caused it pain, a sensation it had not felt in a long, long time. And so the sand spirit did what any being, magical or otherwise, would do under the circumstances: it fled.
The dust devil, somewhat reduced in size after Amica's strike, bobbed and weaved down the ridge and away from the small party, departing with almost as little haste as it had arrived - for haste was not a common quality among desert dwellers. A calm descended on the ridge as the creature began to skitter away across the sands, and T'kil slumped onto his good side with a gasp of relief. "Amica," he uttered, turning his worn face towards the girl. "It is... good that you came." He smiled weakly.
Only Arigha, higher up the ridge, was aware of the remaining threat, where the third and final djinn circled the wounded man menacingly.
Striking out at the djinn, though, was another matter. A creature of the windswept wastes, being captured and bound was its very antithesis, something it feared beyond all else. From a practical point of view the task was rendered extremely difficult by its twirling, chaotic movements and its incorporeal form as it zipped and darted around the older shaman's head. Nevertheless, Amica's enchanted blade clipped part of its sandy tail, and sheared through with ease, the same green-grey flame as earlier forming on contact. Close to the flame, Amica's blade hand could feel the cold it emitted.
With a shriek like the rending of sheet metal, the djinn recoiled from the attack. These humans were more than it had anticipated. They were in possession of ancient magics and weapons that caused it pain, a sensation it had not felt in a long, long time. And so the sand spirit did what any being, magical or otherwise, would do under the circumstances: it fled.
The dust devil, somewhat reduced in size after Amica's strike, bobbed and weaved down the ridge and away from the small party, departing with almost as little haste as it had arrived - for haste was not a common quality among desert dwellers. A calm descended on the ridge as the creature began to skitter away across the sands, and T'kil slumped onto his good side with a gasp of relief. "Amica," he uttered, turning his worn face towards the girl. "It is... good that you came." He smiled weakly.
Only Arigha, higher up the ridge, was aware of the remaining threat, where the third and final djinn circled the wounded man menacingly.
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Arigha was uncertain what, if anything, she should do. Hide? Would the creature just go away once it claimed the body of the injured man? Or would it seek out the nearest available beings to play with them? But what could she do? Delay it? Draw the shaman's attention so that he could decide the best course of action.
"Hai! Djinn!"
Loud enough to reach the djinn, and also to alert the others as to the danger.
The desert girl moved swiftly, gracefully... seductively. She did not know if feminine charms would be tempting to the creature, but her body and its grace was all she could think to offer it as distraction.
"What do you want with that sick broken man?"
She forced calmness into her voice: a confidence that she did not truly feel. What if it came for her before anyone could help?
Well-practiced movements – her own dance of sand and wind mixed with the purpose of closing the distance. Her dance was more akin to the movements of a dust devil than she would have realized. Could she make it to the man in time to end his life?
"Wouldn't it be more fun to dance in a body worthy of your grace?"
"Hai! Djinn!"
Loud enough to reach the djinn, and also to alert the others as to the danger.
The desert girl moved swiftly, gracefully... seductively. She did not know if feminine charms would be tempting to the creature, but her body and its grace was all she could think to offer it as distraction.
"What do you want with that sick broken man?"
She forced calmness into her voice: a confidence that she did not truly feel. What if it came for her before anyone could help?
Well-practiced movements – her own dance of sand and wind mixed with the purpose of closing the distance. Her dance was more akin to the movements of a dust devil than she would have realized. Could she make it to the man in time to end his life?
"Wouldn't it be more fun to dance in a body worthy of your grace?"
The djinn broke off its spiralling trajectory as Arigha hailed it, simply bobbing on the spot as it drank in the sight of the newcomer. The girl's voice was loud enough to carry back to where Jack, Maverick, Amica and T'kil were, further down the ridge - but the sound of the spirit's rustling response reached her ears only.
art willing girl? come-to, we dance!
For better or for worse, Arigha had read the being's desires correctly. To the djinn, her young and well-toned form was a far more enticing plaything than the wounded man before it. Swirling and reforming in anticipation, it drifted away from his broken body and slowly neared its would-be "dance partner", seeming to mirror her movements as it did so.
art willing girl? come-to, we dance!
For better or for worse, Arigha had read the being's desires correctly. To the djinn, her young and well-toned form was a far more enticing plaything than the wounded man before it. Swirling and reforming in anticipation, it drifted away from his broken body and slowly neared its would-be "dance partner", seeming to mirror her movements as it did so.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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The creature responded more quickly and decisively than Arigha had anticipated. For a flicker of a flicker she hesitated, but the rhythm of her dance kept her body in motion. The girl was not stupid. She had heard stories of these dangerous beings. She had even seen an old man who claimed his right foot was missing because of an encounter with djinn.
But there was some deep, primal part of her being that wanted to bond with the wind. Her most private dances had been inspired by desert wind and sand, the horrific yet beautiful power of the storms. She had dreamed of riding the storm, soaring through the skies. And she had dreamed of being ridden as well, ridden by the wild wind that touched her in an intimate and exciting way.
Her dance continued in arcing, circling shapes. One foot dragged the ground for a few steps, deftly drawing a large circle in the sand about her. Her people knew the power of protective circles and old symbols. Arigha did not know how to craft any of the symbols: such secrets were jealously guarded by those who kept them. But the shaman might be able to use it. With this act, she knew that she was not quite prepared to throw herself wildly to the djinn. Her dreams had been of something greater, grander.
The character of her movements changed subtly: no longer a base seduction. Less wanton, more intentional, with a hint of teasing to them. The commanding dance of a lover who would not be too easily won.
"You are so hasty. Are all of your kind so quick to move? "
"You want to dance, but you have not yet said what you will give me in return."
But there was some deep, primal part of her being that wanted to bond with the wind. Her most private dances had been inspired by desert wind and sand, the horrific yet beautiful power of the storms. She had dreamed of riding the storm, soaring through the skies. And she had dreamed of being ridden as well, ridden by the wild wind that touched her in an intimate and exciting way.
Her dance continued in arcing, circling shapes. One foot dragged the ground for a few steps, deftly drawing a large circle in the sand about her. Her people knew the power of protective circles and old symbols. Arigha did not know how to craft any of the symbols: such secrets were jealously guarded by those who kept them. But the shaman might be able to use it. With this act, she knew that she was not quite prepared to throw herself wildly to the djinn. Her dreams had been of something greater, grander.
The character of her movements changed subtly: no longer a base seduction. Less wanton, more intentional, with a hint of teasing to them. The commanding dance of a lover who would not be too easily won.
"You are so hasty. Are all of your kind so quick to move? "
"You want to dance, but you have not yet said what you will give me in return."
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Jack Farrell
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Jack spent little time in running over to T'kil, checking his body for obvious wounds. Amica had to deal with the D'jinn, not think over much about her husband.
"Take care of the devils, I will watch him." Jack met Amica's eyes, trying to convey some urgency. He looked around for anything he could use, fabric for a binding could staunch the bloodflow till perhaps Amica could take greater care. "You did well shaman. It seems th-" Jack was cut off as Arigha's cry echoed the clearing.
Hai d'jinn???
Jack turned and stared, hardly capable of believing his eyes as he saw the girl taunt the D'jinn. This was idiocy and there was little Jack could do. He looked around, trying to assess the full situation. T'kil was down, Amica was chasing one d'jinn, Mav was nowhere to be seen after his healing.
Jack's mind raced, surely there was something he could do, some way he could help. He looked up at the girl, dancing like a flame in the dying light of the sun.
"Amica!" he called, focusing on keeping T'kil this side of the mortal coil. "I don't mean to be causing a fuss but there is a girl dancing with the devil..."
"Take care of the devils, I will watch him." Jack met Amica's eyes, trying to convey some urgency. He looked around for anything he could use, fabric for a binding could staunch the bloodflow till perhaps Amica could take greater care. "You did well shaman. It seems th-" Jack was cut off as Arigha's cry echoed the clearing.
Hai d'jinn???
Jack turned and stared, hardly capable of believing his eyes as he saw the girl taunt the D'jinn. This was idiocy and there was little Jack could do. He looked around, trying to assess the full situation. T'kil was down, Amica was chasing one d'jinn, Mav was nowhere to be seen after his healing.
Jack's mind raced, surely there was something he could do, some way he could help. He looked up at the girl, dancing like a flame in the dying light of the sun.
"Amica!" he called, focusing on keeping T'kil this side of the mortal coil. "I don't mean to be causing a fuss but there is a girl dancing with the devil..."
"Lie still, T'kil," murmured Amica once the djinn withdrew, her hand lightly upon his chest to settle him. She hadn't managed to pierce the creature in place, but she had wounded it and driven it off...and such a thing was well enough. Glaring after the receding creature, she heard the shout from Jack Farrell and rose up once more, turning to see yet another djinn...swirling around one of her own People. Gens Harinae? Such recklessness!
For a very brief moment, she pondered the convenience of losing the unknown woman to the djinn. That would render the creature mortal, at least for a time...and mortals could be knocked unconscious, bound, and kept. Amica could not readily find a pot, skin, or bottle readily at hand...but she could store djinn in a person far more easily, at least for her purposes. Could I do such a thing? she pondered, motionless with indecision.
"Jack Farrell, you must come to me at once. If it will take her, she will come for you first," predicted Amica. Djinni were creatures of lust and passion...they would stop at nothing to feel, touch, and experience that which they could not without bodies of their own...and she would come for Jack the moment she lost control. If she succumbs to the djinn, then perhaps I will not be so swift to free her, pondered Amica, surprised that she would consider such tactics in her war on Dragon Kind. "Find a weapon, Jack Farrell. We must strike her down if she surrenders to it."
For a very brief moment, she pondered the convenience of losing the unknown woman to the djinn. That would render the creature mortal, at least for a time...and mortals could be knocked unconscious, bound, and kept. Amica could not readily find a pot, skin, or bottle readily at hand...but she could store djinn in a person far more easily, at least for her purposes. Could I do such a thing? she pondered, motionless with indecision.
"Jack Farrell, you must come to me at once. If it will take her, she will come for you first," predicted Amica. Djinni were creatures of lust and passion...they would stop at nothing to feel, touch, and experience that which they could not without bodies of their own...and she would come for Jack the moment she lost control. If she succumbs to the djinn, then perhaps I will not be so swift to free her, pondered Amica, surprised that she would consider such tactics in her war on Dragon Kind. "Find a weapon, Jack Farrell. We must strike her down if she surrenders to it."
T'kil's voluminous coat was the readiest source of material for Jack to bind the wound on his palm. This was the primary source of blood, but a steady trickle also ran from a jagged cut in his left arm where his broken bone had pierced the skin. The shaman's breathing was ragged, but stable and as calm as was possible under the circumstances. He offered no words.
Arigha's subtle change of pace did little to dissuade the djinn from pursuing its trajectory. While it was familiar with lust and the charms of the physical, patience and the rituals of courtship were evidently alien notions to it. The turbulence within it grew greater, if anything, as it neared the dancing anddi-sus.
Yougive Itake body!
The circle in the sand, however, did cause it to pause, and for the moment the spirit remained outside the line she had drawn, unwilling to advance further. The djinn had clearly encountered such defences in the past, and was unwilling to try its luck just yet. Its growing agitation showed that it would only be a matter of time before it did, though.
Arigha had reason to be confident, for the moment at least. The vast majority of fables relating to the spirits of the desert, and all those she had been taught as a child, suggested that only the willing and the weak could be entered by such a spirit. Only more recent, terrifying stories told of powerful djinn forcing themselves into human bodies against the occupant's will. It was impossible for her to gauge the power of this djinn, but confidence and strength of mind had the potential to be the greatest defence she possessed.
Arigha's subtle change of pace did little to dissuade the djinn from pursuing its trajectory. While it was familiar with lust and the charms of the physical, patience and the rituals of courtship were evidently alien notions to it. The turbulence within it grew greater, if anything, as it neared the dancing anddi-sus.
Yougive Itake body!
The circle in the sand, however, did cause it to pause, and for the moment the spirit remained outside the line she had drawn, unwilling to advance further. The djinn had clearly encountered such defences in the past, and was unwilling to try its luck just yet. Its growing agitation showed that it would only be a matter of time before it did, though.
Arigha had reason to be confident, for the moment at least. The vast majority of fables relating to the spirits of the desert, and all those she had been taught as a child, suggested that only the willing and the weak could be entered by such a spirit. Only more recent, terrifying stories told of powerful djinn forcing themselves into human bodies against the occupant's will. It was impossible for her to gauge the power of this djinn, but confidence and strength of mind had the potential to be the greatest defence she possessed.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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Jack Farrell
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Jack wasted little time in using brute force to remove a strip of cloth to bind T'kill's palm. The broken arm was beyond his skill and he was unsure how to proceed. A tourniquet would staunch the flow but without healing T'kill would be in serious danger. He used another strip to tie off the wound remembering not to leave the binding on for too long. He had seen limbs discoloured and gangrenous from the tender clutches of the tourniquet. He wondered at the firey shaman, he had never seen him so impotent. Jack stood his face grave.
He heard Amica's call and turned, he had lost his Falchion and belt knife in the chaos and was thus unarmed. He regarded the dancing girl with a critical eye. "I can take her." He spoke under his breath. "She is only a slip of a girl." Oddly he did not regard Amica in the same light. She, he feared would be a more challenging foe.
"Im not striking that girl down Amica." He spoke aloud. "Why do you not just banish the demon?" He asked, his eyes on her bloodstained knife. All the same, he closed the distance between himself and the girl. Jack was a strong lad, lean and broad across the chest. The D'jinn had renewed his body though his strength was sapped. She was slight, a graceful thing. Even if the D'jinn took her body, its host was still a girl... at least in Jack's mind.
He heard Amica's call and turned, he had lost his Falchion and belt knife in the chaos and was thus unarmed. He regarded the dancing girl with a critical eye. "I can take her." He spoke under his breath. "She is only a slip of a girl." Oddly he did not regard Amica in the same light. She, he feared would be a more challenging foe.
"Im not striking that girl down Amica." He spoke aloud. "Why do you not just banish the demon?" He asked, his eyes on her bloodstained knife. All the same, he closed the distance between himself and the girl. Jack was a strong lad, lean and broad across the chest. The D'jinn had renewed his body though his strength was sapped. She was slight, a graceful thing. Even if the D'jinn took her body, its host was still a girl... at least in Jack's mind.
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Arigha's eyes sought out the form of the dying man. For her main purpose had initially been to keep the djinn from claiming his chosen host. Perhaps if the man had expired, the girl could give up this game and seek protection amongst the others.
Why has the shaman not come? Surely he could not wish for this creature to take a healthy host – not when he was so certain that we should finish off the dying...
Droplets of blood still flew from her clothing as she moved, a stark reminder of the violent mercy in which she had participated.
Unless it is his woman – she is a witch after all, perhaps. I should have crushed her token on a rock.
"I do not give – I loan or I share if the reward is enough. Do you understand?"
Why has the shaman not come? Surely he could not wish for this creature to take a healthy host – not when he was so certain that we should finish off the dying...
Droplets of blood still flew from her clothing as she moved, a stark reminder of the violent mercy in which she had participated.
Unless it is his woman – she is a witch after all, perhaps. I should have crushed her token on a rock.
"I do not give – I loan or I share if the reward is enough. Do you understand?"
Nodding at Jack Farrell, Amica lost patience with the wind spirit. She might have used it to heal T'kil, but she had not yet learned of his wounds or their severity. Instead, she would drive away the other djinn before it could cause any further troubles. It is for this I should have Annuire, she thought briefly, glancing around for her enchanted weapon. Even if the weapon had survived the gateway passage, it was impossible to tell just where it would have landed...and whether it would be accessible. She would have to rely upon T'kil's knife, a knife empowered with her own magics at current.
"I will do as you say, Jack Farrell. Remain with T'Kil," she said, hiking up what was left of her skirts from the curious Western guarrdi dress she wore to charge at the djinn threatening Arigha. Have I done this thing? she pondered to herself as she launched forward, racing along the rocky, sandy ground towards the struggling pair. Would I give her to suffer the djinn to serve my purposes?
"Take water into your mouth, andi-sus, and he cannot harm you," advised the shaman as she neared the other desert nomad, speaking in her native tongue. Amica had dealt with the more malicious of djinni in times past, and she had spent some time considering upon how they might be thwarted. Such a thing as this...water held in the mouth...could do so, but only for a short time. Time enough to drive off the attacking spirit with a few deft slashes of her earth-bound knife, anyway...driving it off until it gathered the courage to return.
"I will do as you say, Jack Farrell. Remain with T'Kil," she said, hiking up what was left of her skirts from the curious Western guarrdi dress she wore to charge at the djinn threatening Arigha. Have I done this thing? she pondered to herself as she launched forward, racing along the rocky, sandy ground towards the struggling pair. Would I give her to suffer the djinn to serve my purposes?
"Take water into your mouth, andi-sus, and he cannot harm you," advised the shaman as she neared the other desert nomad, speaking in her native tongue. Amica had dealt with the more malicious of djinni in times past, and she had spent some time considering upon how they might be thwarted. Such a thing as this...water held in the mouth...could do so, but only for a short time. Time enough to drive off the attacking spirit with a few deft slashes of her earth-bound knife, anyway...driving it off until it gathered the courage to return.