Secret of the Sands

[Lion]

Enter the vast, empty wasteland.  And never come out again.

Such were the words uttered by the elders of his Duhjari tribe.  The old men that never ventured beyond the confines of their rivers; the old men that became old men because they could command younger ones to fight and die for them.  Though every Duhjari was taken to the horse because it was the very essence of their blood, that did not mean all ventured beyond their borders.  There was the Serha Plains, and then there was Adela.  The world need not be any larger than that.

However, that had never been enough for Ki'adan.  There was so much to be explored.  How some could simply cling to the small bubble that they know, he would never understand.  As much fun as it was to muse on the thought, he had a job to do.

Ki'adan searched through the canyon path, eyes honing in on the shadows between the hoodoos and seeing something off in the distance.  He turned his horse off into stark shade, where the sun peeked between two tall pillar, both with carvings he noted of a serpent-like animal, one that looked very much like a dragon.  They were crudely done, perhaps of a time long past, and while interesting to look at, was an unnecessary distraction. 

He crept closer, keeping to the shadow until he came across the discarded waterskin.  And there was also a knapsack, rummaged through and with many unnecessary items.  A few bits of heavy clothing, impractical in the desert, and a book, and curiously, an apple.  He took the discarded fruit in hand, and peered through the dirt and sand where a set of tracks went around a bend, and through a rising canyon.

Ki'adan remounted and bounded quickly, knowing these were fresh tracks.  The slave boy was not going to get far, not in this heat.  And not without water, if he had anything left at all.  Sand carried up in his wake, swiftly turning into the canyon and vanishing where the sun did not tread over jagged rock.


[Feel free to have a patrol, or some such turn up and tangle with him.  If you need me to fix anything, let me know! (: ]

[SciFiSteve626]

OOC: I made a character named Vakath for the sake of our thread.

Vakath watched intently as he saw the figure ride with casual confidence through the canyon below. Although it annoyed him mightily, this outsider, while not native to the desert, certainly knew how to traverse one. From the way he was dressed he almost appeared to be a nomad. Almost. Vakath raked his mind as to what he could be. The figure paused and dismounted to inspect a discarded provisions bag, then took a bite out what appeared to be an apple and continued moving forward. As he remounted the horse, the figure seemed to urge his mount on after something. A tracker Vakath thought, he has to be a tracker, and the one that Akyra warned us about.

Ever since a random adolescent boy had turned up, wandering almost mindlessly through the desert, things had changed in the Sand Dragon Camp. The Elders, the preeminent magic users of the tribe, had attempted to heal the mind of the boy, who was going absolutely insane. What was afflicting the boy Vakath had not the faintest clue, although he had heard fancy words coming out of the Elders mouths about demons and magic. Vakath did not respect anyone outside The Elders who practiced magic. After all, the true determiner of a combatant was how well they wielded a weapon, not how well they spoke and flailed their arms in the air.

This did not mean that Vakath was not bothered by the rumors of demon magic. Any time demonic magic has surfaced near Sand Dragon territory, it did not bode well for the tribe. It was on more than one occasion that demons had nearly made the Sand Dragon People extinct, and Vakath still bore the horrific scars from the Cultist War across his body. The way that demons claws were able to shred through the toughest scale armor still sent chills down his spine.

But the demon attacks of the past were not important right now, that tracker in the canyon was. Akyra had informed Vakath that the corrupted boy was once a slave to a necromantic mage, and it would be more likely than not that the mage was going to send a slave hunter after the boy to get his prize back. For what the mage could have been using the boy for Vakath had not the slightest clue, although he hoped for the adolescents sake that is was not anything perverted.

Akyra's prediction was correct, there was a tracker hot on the trail of the escape boy slave. While this tracker certainly knew his way around the desert, he hadn't the slightest clue he was being watched by multiple Sand Dragon warriors that were stuck on patrol.

It was Vakath's idea to find the boy slave's discarded bag and refill it with the items he had been found traveling with to fool the tracker into thinking he was hot on a trail. So far his plan was working to perfection. Vakath's piercing brown eyes followed the slave hunter as the hunter approached a fork in the canyon below. Turning to a warrior on the opposite side of the canyon ledge, Vakath flashed several hand signals to the warrior, who relayed them to another and another. Eventually the signal would be passed on to a Sand Dragon Youth, who was positioned in a path in the canyon the slave hunter was sure to follow.

A smile of gratification began to embed itself on Vakath's pale lips.

Come on, slave hunter, a little farther.

Credit to the slave hunter, he was following the path the boy slave had originally taken, but Vaktah had manipulated it to make it appear to the hunter he was hotter on the trail than he actually was. It pained Vakath that they couldn't kill the hunter, as their orders were to apprehend him and take him back to camp for questioning.

If all went according to Vakath's plan, the hunter would follow the path until he came upon the Sand Dragon youth. The hunter would think he had his prey, but before he could catch the youth the Sand Dragon patrol would ambush and apprehend the slave hunter.

Everything had worked so far, and Vakath hoped it continued to work without a hitch.

[Lion]

[Awesome!  No need to notify.  I'm assuming he's an NPC.]

Coursing down the canyon had given the former Duhjari prince a sense of exhilaration, one that drove him to make his horse gallop down into that darkened shade.  However, even he knew not to let his excitement get the better of him.  He was a wanderer in an unknown canyon, and though he had traversed the desert plenty of times, this particular area was fairly new.  He knew to exercise extreme caution.

One could never know what resided just around the corner.

Ki'adan was deep within the canyon now, the cliffs jutting overhead.  The dim gloom that made the tracks a little harder to see was enough light for him.  And he saw someone up ahead.  A young boy.  But he stopped however, just a hundred or so paces from the small form that hid between two boulders.  At first, it seemed the boy didn't seem to notice him.

Ki'adan's horse stopped, nickering nervously.  Something was wrong.  His hand went to the bow at his back, and pulling an arrow from the quiver at his side.  And just as he slowly strung it, the boy looked up at him and screamed loudly.

[SciFiSteve626]

Vakath watched as the mount of the slave hunter began to sense danger. Not bad, although one of our purebreds would have sensed us a long time ago he thought smugly.

After drawing and loading his composite bow, the Sand Dragon warrior aimed at the steed.

The tribal youth shouted out, a signal for the warriors perched on the canyon ledge to disable the slave hunters mount. Vakath hesitated, horses were a sacred animal amongst the Sand Dragon people. Even though this was not a horse of the tribe, that did not change the fact that horses were a beautiful animal.

Sorry Vakath thought, and let loose his arrow, which flew at breakneck speed toward the thigh of the horse. At that instant there were four other arrows flying towards the mount to incapacitate it.

Several mounted Sand Dragon warriors, four that had been stalking the hunter from behind, and four that were in cover behind the tribal youth, sprang forth to capture the hunter. Hopefully they would not suffer any casualties.

Reaching toward his belt, Vakath unclipped a weighted net designed for throwing and, leaving cover, hurled it at the slave hunter. A few other nets were launched at the hunter as well. Overkill? Surely. But not only were slave hunters great at tracking down escapees, they were notorious for being escape artists themselves. At least the experts were, and Vakath had a feeling this one was an expert. Mages never hired amateur hunters.

Unfortunately for the hunter, there were next to no options available for his possible escape. He was trapped on all sides in the canyon below, cornered by the rocks and Sand Dragon warriors alike.

You're mine Vakath thought.

[Lion]

The Duhjari was moving before all those men swiftly began to close in on him.  Surely there were more than he might kill alone.  Particularly in a closed off cave such as this, but he was not going down without a fight.  At the shriek of his horse, the arrows embedding in deeply, but the powerful beast still moving strong.

Nevermind the wounds, the blood that streaked down the animals side.  Ki'adan's arrow flew, his aim struck true and struck the throat of one of the four warriors that were ahead of him.  The horse moved beneath him like the wind and ran for the youth.  The boy presented a spear, bringing it up, in an effort to deter the horse. 

Indeed it made the beast alter his path, narrowly missing the net that attempted to cloak over him.  And two arrows were held within his fingers, one knotched within the bow, and the other folded in his fingers and gusted through the air, slamming into the youth's leg.  The boy screamed harshly, dropping the spear and immediately crumbling over his thigh.  And the second arrow at the ready flew into the chest of another warrior.

Ki'adan's hands flew to arrows in mechanized formation, two at a time, until the bodies of six more assailants were dead or incapacitated.  More arrows were launched at his mount, another arrow piercing his backside, as he turned the horse.  He quickly turned in the saddle, launching another shot into the chest of an archer.  The nets had fallen into a pile from his initial position, but if his assailants believed he would stay still, and wait for them to fall upon him, they would be wholly dissatisfied.  Ki'adan trusted his mount, as much as his mount trusted him.  And despite his wounds, the horse was battlebred and strong and would not fall as long as his rider remained.   The hooves turned and beat sand, throwing it up when it felt it would be caught.  Ki'adan remained sealed to the back of that animal, his legs holding tightly and turning when needed.

But when an arrow struck Ki'adan's thigh, he faltered and snatched for the mane of his mount before sliding off the horse.  A warrior sprung from the boulders beside craggy rock, launching himself at Ki'adan and knocking him off the horse. 

The man held a bow and arrow to Ki'adan's neck, sitting on his chest, a knee braced over his sternum and kept the arrowhead pressed hard against his throat, enough to draw blood.   "Be.  Still," he hissed.

[SciFiSteve626]

Vakath's brown eyes glowed with intense hatred. To the hunter's credit, he had fought gallantly, although Vakath was worried about facing Akyra after the casualties that they sustained. This hunter was as good a shot as some of the tribe's Vashan Archers, and that was not a statement to be made lightly. It annoyed Vakath that with his clear shot he had to shot for the thigh, and couldn't merely skewer the bitches head.

"Be still," Vakath hissed as he drove his knee into the hunters chest and braced an arrow at the hunters throat. Whatever Akyra wanted with this slave hunter had better be worth the six warriors lying dead or wounded on the ground. Several other warriors walked up to the incapacitated hunter and tied his hands and feet, then walked him over to a stallion ready to take him back to camp.

"Get the surgeons and healers!" Vakath barked as soon as he was finished holding down the slave hunter. Several more warriors galloped to the scene of the ambush to take the casualties back to base.

Convinced that the tribesmen did not need any further ordering around, Vakath walked back to the stallion that had the hunter on it, and mounted in the riding position with a warrior sitting behind the hunter so he would not act up.

Turning around briefly, Vakath raked his mind for ways he could make the hunters experience more miserable.

"Why is he not gagged?" Vakath asked annoyingly. Almost instantly a thick pieced of cloth was forced into the hunters mouth and tied around his neck.

"Ever heard legends about the Scourge of the Desert?" Vakath asked with smug amusement. "Well worry not my friend, you are about to meet her. And do try to be very respectful and complacent when we take that gag off, my Queen does not take kindly to backtalk."

[Lion]

Surrender was not in him, but neither was foolishly wasting his life. 

Ki’adan grit his teeth hard, the muscles of his jaw in clear displeasure at having to remain as he was.  He ceased fighting and said nothing in all the time.  What good would it do anyway?  Clearly spitting in their face was no longer an option.

Besides, the body count tallied approximately to eight.  And of the eight he saw, five were clearly dead.  He grinned at that, and soon they were off.

The journey out of the canyon too got to reaction from the slave hunter.  As if he would do anything to give them any sort of satisfaction.  He was quiet and respectful, even to his captors and when Vakath saw it was impractical to have his feet bound, those bindings were cut and he rode easier that way..  And he left it at that.

The sun burned overhead, and sweat dripped down his face in heavy, thick beads.  He felt like he was going to pass out, but kept eyes ahead.  And as they stalked downward, through a hidden path between rising hoodoos, they soon vanished from the sun.

[SciFiSteve626]

OOC: Sometimes I don't catch every detail, should I modify my last post?

[Lion]

[No worries.  I fixed it! ]

[SciFiSteve626]

Vakath's mount ascended a hilly path that allowed one to have an encompassing view of the camp. Finally they were home. The camp itself was vast, and was located on a hill commanding a valley. Rows of circular animal skin tents were spread out far and wide. Tribal members of all ages went about their business amongst the tents, and since it was the evening, people were most likely planning their nightly meals. Formations of warriors drilled in designated practice fields or were conducting patrols and errands, moving in and out of the camp at regular intervals. It was amazing that such a hub of activity had never been discovered by any of the Sand Dragon's enemies, proof of the strategic and geographic intuition of the tribes leaders.

Quickly the steed Vakath and the captive rode made its way through the rows of tents. No one bothered to look at the Vakath and his prisoner, captives were a common sight in the camp.

Pulling on the reigns Vakath brought his mount to an abrupt stop at the base of a steed path at the edge of the camp. The path was guarded by multiple heavily armored spearman, and ascended to a hanging valley that was wedged in between two imposing mountains that dominated the landscape. It was on this hanging valley that the command tents were located. Akyra's throneroom, the tribal Elders, the officers of the military, as well as the elite guardsmen were all situated on this hanging valley.

"I will give you only one warning," Vakath glowered at the hunter behind him, "my queen holds your life in her hands right now, so be respectful. The last person to try and be snarky with her is rotting in the sand right now. Talk only when spoken to, and also, be direct. I sont think she has ever laughed at a decent joke in her life. The only time I've seen her laughing is when a pen enemy warriors crotch was stabbed. So for your own sake speak what's on your mind, she will appreciate bluntness."

Vakath paused to see if he missed anything. He hated the hunter and wanted to cut off his head, but he knew a warrior when he saw one. While this stave hunter was not a warrior by trade, he could shoot and ride with the best of them. Certainly that demanded some respect.

"And reverence," Vakath said, "lots of reverence."

--
OOC: we're gonna pretend the feet ties never happened.

Vakath dismounted and guided the hunter off the horse and onto his feet. Unsheathing a dagger, Vakath cut the gag on the hunter and lead him into the throne tent.

It was unremarkable, but fit the theme of the tribe Akyra commanded,  rugged and intimidating. A throne crafted out of animal bones and fur sat on a slightly elevated platform with Sand Dragon figurines placed on either side.

Alyra sat smugly and casually on the throne, flanked by armored spearmen. Akyra was dressed in ornate battle armor with serpentine decortaions. two jewled scimitars dangled from her hips. her brown eyes glared sadistically at her captive.

Vakath threw the hunter I the ground before her.

"So your the slave hunter that I was informed would be heading my way. Curious, I was expecting someone a little more imposing. In fairness to you it is hard to look intimidating on the ground." Akyra glared slightly at the hunter, and changed to a more riged posture. "I suspect your probably after that boy, tell me, why are you trespassing in my domain to hunt such an abused child? What is your explanation for all of this? Who hired you and why?"

[Lion]

Ki'adan could have sneered at all the apparent reminders his captor had to give him regarding their leader.  As if he hadn't done this before, but one thing was clear: this man did not like him.  Most likely, Ki'adan assessed, because of the near failure of his trap.  It was a mutual feeling.  Ki'adan did not want to be captured as much as this boy had tried to capture him.  He knew well enough not to speak out of turn, and so said nothing to him.

He understand, of course.  He always did.  Moments like these were always a test, one of will and spirit.  One could show respect without surrender.  Just as one could show surrender without respect.   Any leader could choose to execute a prisoner that did not show proper respect, whether or not they were fully prepared to grovel at their feet.

Ki'adan carefully picked himself up, hand still bound behind his back and only bowed his head to Akyra.  He stood still, head up, shoulders back, but not too proud.  He met her eye to eye.  "I am," he said, with another nod, unamused by her attempt at a joke.  "I thank you for the hospitable treatment of your prisoners.  Other than being bound, I was not treated poorly."

He took his time in answering her questions and looked to the spearmen that surrounded them all.  Two behind her, one at either side of the throne.  Three to the left, four to the right.  They were tense at the presence of this stranger, and he didn't blame them.

"You're open at the fact that my quarry is hiding among your people.  Whether they are abused or not, is none of my affair.  I am here to take what is mine, and be on my way.  Any further information is not at my discretion to disclose, your Majesty.  He is a slave.  He is property.  He is to be returned to his owner.  It's that simple."

[SciFiSteve626]

Akyra began to speak again, but a chilling breeze forced its way into the tent, making her black hair wave behind her head violently. Shortly thereafter the wind died down, but Akyra had momentarily diverted her attention to a nearby guard.

"Check on the Elders and report back to me on their status NOW!" Akyra commanded in their native tounge. With haste the guard rushed out of the throneroom.

"Dont worry," Akyra addressed the slave hunter coldly,"your... quarry, as you so aptly put, has revealed much about his plight."

"But!" Akyra exclaimed with sarcastic enthusiasm, "right now i would rather hear your name and your side to this story."

"Tell me hunter, why did you accept a job from a necromantic mage? What compels someone to undertake such a dispicable job such as slave hunting? What do you even know about the boy in my custody that you are hired to capture?" Akyra leaned back in her throne as she awaited hopefully enlightening answers.

[Lion]

Enlightening answers that she was unlikely to get.  What more did she expect to learn from him?  He was just a hunter hired to do a job, and there was only so much information his employer would possibly divulge to him in an effort to help him accomplish his task.  And Ki’adan never cared to ask more than necessary.  Should the contract prove false, then Ki’adan was just as content will selling the captured slave to the highest bidder on market, instead of returning them to the bastard that reneged on the deal.

“Renault.  That’s my name,” he said, giving his professional alias.  “I was hired by the boy’s master to bring him back.  I don’t ask questions and I certainly do not care what is done to them in the aftermath.  I am paid to do a job.  A job I am quite proficient at.  I know that his name his Quaros, he is approximately sixteen years of age, and has a limp.  He can hide it well if walking, but running, particularly for long periods of time, proves to be difficult.”

“He also has green eyes and fallow hair, but his master has it cut frequently to prevent louse infestation.  My question to you is, why do you care?  What part do you play in this charade?”