A game of dice

[Anonymous]

The white haired girl let the dice tumble from her fingers and land with a ‘thud’ on the top of the worn box. After seeing the dots that appeared on either face of the white cubes, a grin stretched along her pink lips, her white teeth flashing against her tanned skin. After a snarl went through the crowd of men, coins and goodies were placed onto the top of the box, and the girl swiped them up and dropped each item into a leather sack.

“Thank you gentlemen. I had a wonderful evening.� Her voice was rough from the years in the sand and desert. She reached a hand out, her palm, wrist, and forearm wrapped in white cloth, and shook the hands of the men around her. Her hand was as rough as all of their’s. After giving another sly grin, she pushed herself up from around the box, and brushed her dark fingers through her snowy hair.

“Kamilah!� A cracked voice yelled across the room, and the girl turned to scan the room with her sea-green eyes, the color standing out against her tanned skin and bright hair. Her eyes then landed on an older fellow, scars scattered across his face, and a patch covering his left eyes.

“’ello pap.� She gave a slight bow at the waist to the rogue king of Essyrn, before righting herself, fixing the leather bag that was slung over her shoulder.

“Ya stealin’ from th’ men ‘gain?� The man asked sharply of his daughter, and Kamilah lifted a hand to tug on one of the long, golden earrings that dangled from her ear.

“Not stealin’ pap. I’s jus’ showin’ th’ fellows how ta play sum dice is all.� Compared to the dialect she had been using earlier, her words now matched her father’s. She was able to go from language as perfect as a nobles, to that of city rats.

“Yeah, yeah sure ya wasn’t. Next time jus’ dun go stealin’ from ma businuss partners, ya hear?� He asked and gave her a small shove. Kamilah simply took a step back, her sand and weather worn boots stopping her from falling.

“Aye, aye captain.� She lifted a hand to salute to him, and gave a cheeky grin as she twisted through the crowd to move away from her father. The place was covered in sand, but anywhere in Essyrn was covered in sand. There was no was to escape it. Natives were used to it, but travelers and visiting nobles, well, she hadn’t heard enough of their damned whining.

Kamilah moved to sit at a table in the corner to view the goodies she had won from the dice match. She slipped into the chair with the ease of a cat, but it was natural by now, living under a rogue king and knowing how to move so quiet she might as well have not existed. There were small signs of stolen and won wealth along her body. The most obvious would be the golden earrings dropping from her ears. There were a few golden rings along her fingers, and a slim bracelet around her wrist on the arm that didn’t have white cloth twisted around it. Her top was a high neck, coming up just beneath her chin, but in the front of the shirt there was a slice in it. Her top was a fine leather, although it was worn and torn in places from the roughness of the sand. Beneath the leather top was a brown tunic, reaching down to her wrist on one arm, and down to the twisted white cloth on the other. She wore a leather skirt, a thick belt with pouches and a leather bag, her purse, hanging from it, but only a slice of tanned skin was visible on her thigh. Halfway down her thigh brown fabric began, and covered the length of her legs before it dipped into the depths of her rough boots. It was a simple enough outfit, but it protected her against the harsh weather of the desert, and it was easy to move around in.

Her quick fingers searched through the bag, dropping coins into the purse hanging from her belt. The rest was left in the bag, but then her fingers ran across a necklace that was simple enough for her. Her fingers tugged it out of the bag, and she held the simple, golden necklace within her fingers. Her sea-green eyes scanned the topaz charm, and her head tilted to the side. It was nice enough. She tossed it onto the top of the table she was sitting at, and leaned back in the chair, kicking the heels of her worn boots onto the top of the table. She’d worry about the necklace later. For now, she just looked around the crowded bar, sighing.

[Anonymous]

The Jaws of the Desert. Sand Gators. That Which Float on Earth.

Many names had been given to the creature that Scry Crikey, the illustrious and renowned Monster Hunter, was currently seeking. Unlike much of his prey, the Sand Gators were not one-of-a kind monsters. They were simply very very few of them left.

Monstrous, mysterious creatures, the Sand Gators were. They lived only in the deserts about Essryn, and only came above ground once every 70 years to take a single breath, which they would then hold for another seventy years. The how and why of this was unclear, as a Sand Gator had never been fully recovered for the scientific community to study. When Essryn itself was built, the Gators began to slowly die off, vanishing one by one by one.

Very few remained now--and the one Scry was after was the biggest ever recorded. It's true size was unknown, but it certainly dwarved its brethren. One report said that it's head--seen 140 years ago--was bigger than a battleship. Another report, 70 years ago, said it was akin to a mountain of sand and scales.

Seventy years. Scry had little time. A few days to the hour when those reports had been made. He would slay this Gator and bring it's body--intact--back to Connolaoth. They would bury him in riches for it--not that Scry cared for money. But the idea--the lust for a good hunt--had driven him here.

Ever since he'd left the jungles, ever since those ungrateful politicians took away his funding and put an even stricter quarantine over the place, Scry had fallen into a rut. He'd failed to locate the Golden Rabbit of Necromatia, and his reputation had sunk like a Sand Gator into the sands. This general bounty rejuvinated him. He saw a chance for redemtpion, a chance to show the world he was still worth a damn.

He wasn't old enough to retire yet--though he sure felt it sometimes. He couldn't retire. That arm 'o mine wouldn't abide failure. He had come to Essryn to gather a few brave souls to venture into the desert and slay this gator. A very obvious poster hung on the wall, and he sat near it--people would know what he was and what he wanted.

Nobody had volunteered yet, but he knew Essryn. He was the one who killed the Elderworm--that monstrous creature that threatened to eat every caravan it could find. These people hadn't forgotten him. They owed him gratitude--and a favor.

They hadn't forgotten him.

Had they?

[Anonymous]

Kamilah leaned her head to the side and sighed, reaching her cloth wrapped hand up to brush her fingers through her white hair, the bangs falling forward to brush her forehead and shield her eyes. After scanning the room, her eyes fell on a sign, and then fell further down to land along the man sitting there. A smirk curled along her lips. A Sand Gator? What a fool! Kamilah grabbed the golden necklace and clipped it around her neck without a second thought. She let the front two legs of the chair slam back down onto the ground, and then with the ease of a cat, she moved to her feet. After some smooth twirling and slipping about, she moved through the crowd to the man. Without asking she grabbed the back of the chair across from the man and dropped into it.

“Sand Gators? You’ll find know one in here brave ‘nough to help you. I suggest you tear down yur cute little poster there and go to a crowd that’s got somemore guts in them.� She drawled out, tilting her head back and to the side, a feline like grin crossed over her lips. She lifted her cloth covered hand up to curl her fingers around the necklace, playing with it idly as her sea green eyes watched him carefully.

[Rhindeer]

"Psha, those scaley guys are still causin' grief?"

Not two seconds after the voice spoke up, a woman was suddenly just there on the table between the explorer and the rogue's daughter, sitting cross-legged and facing Kamilah with one elbow propped on her knee and her cheek resting boredly on the palm of that hand. She wasn't a tall woman at all and didn't look particularly strong, with bright red hair falling past her shoulders and very dark skin, and from the looks of her clothes she wasn't the most modest of women, either. She was dressed in sheer red harem pants that luckily weren't sheer at all around any areas that would make people uncomfortable, and a simple red top covered her chest while leaving her midriff bare. Her feet were also bare aside from some golden anklets, and overall she probably looked pretty gaudy, not at all dressed for the occassion or location, because she wore gold jewelry on practically every limb. Even her pointed ears were pierced, and her left nostril had a small golden ring through it.

She was the type of woman that, in most cases, would just be asking to get mugged or worse if she was stupid and walked around a place like this. But Demaht wasn't worried, and for the time being she had tunnel vision, in fact. She was staring right up at Kamilah, bright orange eyes unblinking, as though studying her, before they averted from her face to look at the necklace the girl now wore and was idly playing with. A small, derisive smirk twisted her lips for a moment, making her look quite ugly, but a second later and she was all pleasant smiles. Amidst all the jewelry she wore, her neck was unadorned save for a single necklace which matched Kamilah's down to the last detail, except that the charm was smaller.

She hated that necklace. But she hated humans more.

"So you're the one that summoned me, eh? Well, pleasure to meetcha! I'm Demaht, and you're my master. Or mistress, rather. But if you'd prefer ya can just give me your name and I'll call you that instead. No, ya don't have a choice and no I don't have a choice, unless of course ya give the necklace away or lose it or somethin', then ya have a choice I suppose," she drawled as though she'd said the exact same line hundreds of times before. Which she had. She would have prefered not to say anything at all, but unfortunately she was a slave, was under a powerful enchantment that the Gods themselves had worked onto all of her kind as punishment for their arrogance and misdeeds. She had no choice but to lay out the terms and explain everything--if she tried to keep quiet, the words would still spill out. So, she just preferred to put it all in her own words, because at least then she could try and twist them without actually lying.

Or to cause trouble.

Shifting on the table a bit, she glanced back and to acknowledge the man Kamilah was sitting with, flashed a smile at him, and then looked back to Kamilah, still grinning. "I hope your buddy is someone ya trust, or better yet...that you're in a location where it's safe to speak. Because I'm afraid it's protocol for me to lay out all the details as soon as possible and, well...I'm afraid I can't stall it for long, either. Enchantments and all. Fun stuff, those. Just givin' ya a heads up, because I've seen masters get killed not minutes after summoning me by so-called friends of theirs. I'm apparently pretty valuable, y'know. Wouldn't wanna see a pretty little human like you end up with a knife in your ribs."

Not that she cared, but she was also forced to give a warning. As an immortal being that had lived for thousands of years--she didn't actually know, time didn't matter to her so she just didn't pay it any attention--death was meaningless. And humans? Well. She never minded seeing a human get knifed, and she found the brawls that broke out because of her to be quite amusing and satisfying.

The only time it wasn't so satisfying was when her master actually thought to make her save him. Most didn't think about that, though.

[Anonymous]

“My bird flew..
With the travelers..
His wings are silver..
His heart is fire..�
A sharp boyish voice hummed those words cheerfully, before a sudden gust of dusty wind blew around him, messing his rhythm. It was a very old song that was nearly forgotten at that time, but he, for some reason, knew it very well. He continued to walk the streets-if they can even be called that, since they’re only paths of sand-of Essyrn, clutching at the ragged piece of thick cloth that he was wrapped in. The cloak was covering him from head to toe, except his face, which was still partially unrevealed. It was torn in many places and almost the color of sand itself, but hell, it was still better than nothing. Maybe it’s expected that someone walking around the town while hiding himself under a cloak would be looking mysterious, but he looked only like a lost child, clutching at the cloak clumsily, walking carefully as to not trip in the long fabric. The features of his face concealed with a dim shadow, only some escaping strands of his dark hair were visible, the wind toying with them as it passes by.

Sarincent’s wide brown eyes wandered around, scanning every part of the town with childish amusement. It was his first time visiting Essyrn, yet the place felt welcoming and friendly. The lively people coming and going everywhere on their daily chores, the voices of men exchanging laughs or women calling their kids back home, the bright colors adorning everything, from clothes to pottery to houses. This place was so alive. Animals that he has never seen before were used to carry the baggage of traveling peddlers and touring guests. He rolled his eyes when a whiny, obviously spoiled rich brat complained about the “heat and sweat�. Nobody’s forcing him to come to this desert, he probably did it cuz he has been everywhere else already. The heat was his joy; they were always such good friends. Cold, in the other hand…the bane of his existence.

A poster occupying a large spot on a cracked wall, surely the work of sandstorms over the years (the cracks on the wall, not the poster), caught his attention. His eyes ran over the words written on it, and the hand-drawn picture of an unrecognized..thing. Help needed?? Sand Gator?? What the hell is THAT?? Noticing a man seated near the poster, he figured that he must be ‘The one and only Scry Crikey, the Great Monster Hunter’ as signed at the bottom of the poster. And unless the two fine ladies accompanying him were guys with so little testosterone, they can’t possibly be someone called Scry or be monster hunters. Not one that would usually be described as witty, Sarincent paused for a moment to try and search for any trace of knowing the name in his messy brain. When he found none, he took another glance at the poster and the bizarre group, then he resumed his aimless wandering. Scry Crikey, the Monster Hunter. He should remember this, who knows when he might come across this guy again?? Maybe soon, maybe never, but he’ll try to remember just in case….

[Anonymous]

"Bravery is one thing, but I've found that...well, quite frankly, many brave men fill up graveyards."

He stared icily at Kamilah, his eyes half-closed, almost  bored looking. His expression was unreadable, but his voice--slightly accented--had a kind of strength behind it.

"Matters little, in honesty. I know you--and I saws your lil trick. One 'o these days, the Gods of Fortune will see that you cheat luck a bit too much. And lemme tell ya--if you think switchin' dice is a smart way tae win a game 'o luck, you've got some to learn of gambling."

He looked at the other woman, listened as she introduced herself to Kamilah. Interesting person, this Kamilah. Such people she brought to her side. A girl like her was trouble and fated luck. The kind of luck Scry could make use of. Mattered little. Luck never gave him much of late. Especially the fated kind. Scry didn't like superstition, but he knew damn well when to heed it.

The lad approached. His eyes were full of curiosity. Curiosity was deadly, but Scry knew well enough that curiosity was long dying in this world. In a jilting manner he turned away from Kamilah (let her play with her little toy.) and addressed the newcomer.

"New in town. Well--I can see that much. Tell me lad, ever hear a diddy or two 'bout some beuts called Sand Gators?"

(Scry is kinda a bizarre tribute to Steve Irwin, mixed with Hellboy, just so ya'll know where he's coming from.)

[Anonymous]

((Aw, I love Steve Irwin!))

Kamilah nearly fell back in the chair, but she stopped herself by jumping to her feet, the chair clattering to the ground as her eyes fell onto the near naked woman. A blade appeared in her hand, a blade that had probably been hidden along her body somewhere and her quick fingers had grabbed it. The blade flashed in the light, before she realized the woman was probably not dangerous. Just as quickly the blade was slipped back into its hiding spot, and she fixed the share, sitting on it as the girl explained the rules. A smirk drifted across her lips. What sort of treasure had she fallen upon this time?

“Kamilah. Call me Kamilah. Mistress makes me feel old.� She spoke with a proper tongue now, crossing her arms over her chest. “No, I like this necklace well enough. It matches my skin tone, don’t you agree?� She asked with a tilted head, grinning a grin that only a rogue’s daughter could manage. Her fingers moved up to play with the necklace once more, before her attention turned over to the hunter.

“Brave men fill up graves, which is exactly why I’m nothing near brave. Foolish, now that I prefer.� She laughed as she tilted her head to the side.

“Switchin’ dice? No who says anything’ ‘bout switchin’ th’ dice? I did no such thin’ sir. I only happened to have a game o’ luck is all.� She grinned and broke into a laugh, kicking back her chair once more. “Nah, I was raised as a rogue’s daught’r, I know a bit more ‘bout gamlin’ ‘side from ur tradition’l weighted dice.� She assured him with a nod and a laugh, before her eyes turned to this genie of hers as the hunter talked to the man in the cloak. She only turned her attention away after letting her sea-green eyes sweep along the cloaked man, just making sure he wouldn’t try anything fancy.

“So, what exactly can you do for me, my slave? If it will put me in such danger, just whisper.� She brushed her fingers through her white hair, letting it fall back down to her face.

[Anonymous]

Well that was sooner than expected, his encounter with the man started to seem a little bit more than just mere coincidence. Sarincent paused as the Scry person approached him, asking him about ‘Sand Gators’. Another quick search in his mind…nothing. The name was new to him, but he’s getting more and more excited to learn more. Holding tightly into his cloak, making sure that he’s well-covered, he turned to face the monster hunter. He then spoke to him, a bit shyly. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about those Sand Gators, which is really annoying me. But the name implies that it’s something nasty, a wild monster of some sort.� He took another look at the poster. “So, you’re hunting that thing?? I can see that this is no feat you can accomplish alone; otherwise you’d already be out in the desert taking care of it.� His tone cheerful and playful as if he’s discussing the weather with a good friend, it was obvious that he’s interested in the matter. Whether it’s because he has nothing else to do at the moment, or because of his insatiable sense of adventure and discovery, he didn’t even care to know the reason. Danger?? He hardly cares; he was always someone to place his fun before his safety.

“So, how does a hunting companion sound to you?�

[Rhindeer]

[I miss Steve Irwin. T_T And sorry this took so long! My post got eaten, I got depressed, but...now I'm reposting! XD]

If Demaht weren't so annoyed and unhappy with the fact that she once again had to serve some human, she might have fallen over giggling at Kamilah's reaction to her sudden appearance. Ah! That never got old! She hadn't even flinched at the appearance of the blade, though, only regarded it boredly. After all, she couldn't die, not in the mortal sense of the word. She was an immortal and a prisoner. While she could be killed, that death was only temporary. Given a day or two, and she'd come right back just as shackled as before.

Oooh...Demaht quickly decided that she didn't like this girl at all. Which wasn't saying much, actually, because she didn't really like anyone and humans were completely out of the question. But this girl...oh yes, if it weren't for the fact that she was enslaved, and that she couldn't harm her masters, this girl would have been in trouble! She came across as rather arrogant, and since Demaht was arrogant too, well, that was just asking for there to be some sort of a personality clash. Demaht preferred weaker people, people she could dominate and intimidate, and it was even more satisfying if they were human. Back in her day, she'd been one of those ifrits, or fire djinn, that had made a hobby out of possessing people, and...that was probably the reason she was among the first to be enslaved.

"Oh yes. It looks just so gorgeous on ya, Kamilah," Demaht replied with saccharine sweetness, white teeth flashing in a grin that looked all too forced. She fingered the necklace that hung around her own neck, the one that wouldn't come off no matter how she tugged at it. She couldn't even lift it up past her chin, and she was deceivingly strong. "And look at this, Kamilah. I have a matching one. We can be twins! Oh, aren't we gonna have such a lovely time together?"

Her orange eyes flicked over to take in this Scry fellow and the other boy, and she yawned as she listened to the discussion on sand gators, and to the discussion concerning the question of switching dice. Oh ho? A rogue's daughter, hm? Very interesting indeed. She already thought she had an inkling of what she would end up being used for. This could be interesting, especially since she was pretty certain that this child wouldn't opt to get rid of her and the necklace. It might seem odd, but many others before her had done just that.

They knew the dangers of messing with djinn, and even though they were enslaved, even though they had to serve their masters obediently, there were still plenty of ways they could vent their aggressions. Many of them had become very, very good at twisting people's words, and that could spell disaster for those mortals who were inexperienced and failed to be very, very specific.

"What can I do for ya?" Demaht drawled, still sitting indian style on the table, not at all caring who's way she was in or how strange and improper that probably was. But she was also whispering, now. Unfortunately, she had been told to whisper, so she had no choice but to. Curses.

"Well, my dear mistress, I can do most anything for ya. As long as it doesn't involve asking me to commit acts of mass destruction, kill people, or change anything about another person. Basically, I can't interfere with anyone else's free will, y'see, but I can interfere with yours if you ask it of me." Then she tilted her head to the side. "Which, of course, means I can always just give ya the tools needed to off someone or whatever if that's something ya really wanna do. Oh yes, and this isn't free, either, of course. There's a cost, can't get something for nothing, eh? That price? Dealing with me until ya tire of me. I'll be trailing ya like a puppy until the day ya die--or get rid of me--unable to go more than twenty feet from ya. It's quite a commitment."

She slid her hands out behind her and rested back on them, a smug smile on her lips as she stared up into Kamilah's eyes in that unblinking way of hers. It was probably pretty creepy, but that was her intention.

"Now do you see why people kill for me? Well, all that and because of my stunning good looks, of course."

[Anonymous]

Kamilah clapped her hands together like an excited little girl. The idea of having someone follow her around was slightly irritating to her, but this woman seemed to be quite entertaining. At least she wouldn’t have anymore boring moments.

“Twins! I’m so excited!� She squealed out, before sitting back in her chair, giving a lazy laugh as she lifted her foot up so her ankle rested against the opposite knee. As the girl leaned forward and whispered what she was all about, Kamilah clasped her hands behind her head and stared at her with those sea-green eyes. The whole deal seemed rather interesting to her. Killing people? Kamilah rarely did that, unless it was absolutely necessary. No, she didn’t have much blood staining her hands. Although, the price to pay made her cringe, running her fingers through her white hair as her foot dropped back to the ground.

“Forget your looks. I’d off someone for you too, with all the benefits I’ll be getting. Whatever I want. I think I can grow to you like, my little Demaht. Yes, I think we’ll be best friends soon enough!� She said with a laugh, her hand dropping down to play with the necklace around her throat. She would have to watch out though, if anyone found out she had this little beauty. She knew half the people in this place would kill her, despite who’s blood ran through her veins.

“Is there a limit? Or could I ask for, oh, a new ring for my lonesome finger?� She asked, waggling her fingers towards the girl on the table. All of her fingers were missing rings. She wasn’t too fond of jewelry, but she was going to have fun with her new toy.

[Rhindeer]

Oh, Demaht was evil. She didn't tell poor Kamilah that she could always just order her to vanish until she needed her services, or order her to be silent unless told to talk, and the girl's cringe only made her grin more. No, they never did seem to like that part of the deal. Especially since she often went out of her way to be annoying. Some of the smart ones figured out that they could wish her away, though...that was always disappointing and boring. After all, she didn't need to be around if she wasn't needed, technically--she didn't need food or drink to survive, and she didn't even need sleep. She was a pretty low maintainance sort of slave.

"Mm, I'm sure ya would, sweetheart," she purred, leaning forward again, still meeting Kamilah's eyes defiantly. "You humans...such violent little creatures. And yet ya gained the Gods' favor because your kind are just so cute and mortal, always changing, never growing dull and boring, always new and fresh because your lives are all so...temporary."

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "I could almost see why the old guys in the sky like your kind so much. I've heard human girls talk about it before, about their men leaving them in favor of some fresh, young thing. It's the same sentiment, I suppose. But, oh yes! Aside from all that, why, sure, I think we can get along just splendidly! From one violent little beast to another. Best friends forever! Pinky promise."

With a wink and a wicked grin, she even went so far as to extend her pinky out to Kamilah mockingly, though it was only for a second, and a second later and she dropped her hand back down to the table. Why yes, she was still bitter, even after all those thousands of years. Indeed, the Gods had used the excuse that the djinn were just violent and abusive as their excuse to enslave and control them, but Demaht knew the truth (or she thought she did). It was just as she had said. Because if it wasn't so, well, then humans should also be enslaved by rights! They warred amongst themselves all the time, they were way more violent! They weren't even loyal to each other! To say she didn't feel betrayed would be a lie, and she'd harbor those feelings for eternity. Immortals weren't like mortals. They didn't easily change.

Of course, she didn't expect Kamilah to understand a word of what she was going on about. She was just venting and being spiteful, that was all, and it would be even better for the girl to be confused, anyway!

"A limit? Oh dear...I could have sworn I already told ya the limits. Have ya forgotten already?" Her thin shoulders lifted in a shrug, and that wicked grin soon returned when Kamilah waggled her fingers at her. A ring, eh? Oh...she could have fun with this. She wondered if she could give her ringworm about her fingers? She opened her mouth to speak--

And those orange eyes widened in horror at what she heard leave her mouth.

"Of course I can, but ya just have to be very specific, down to the last detail, or your requests can be muddled up quite easily. What details ya leave out, I'll just have to fill in on my own, and ya might not like my taste in things." As soon as that last sentence ended, Demaht's mouth slammed shut with a loud clicking of teeth and she slapped both hands over her mouth. Gods be damned! The Gods were probably punishing her again...