Player: Ellie
Faction: Islamic States, Arabia
Email: maha_al_nazihah@crusade.chaosdeathfish.com
Maha Hanan binti Malik al-Nazihah is a member of the al-Nazihah tribe from the Arabian desert. Although she aids the tribe in matters of trade and has been known to act as a guide across the desert, her main forte is in dealing with Djinn - something that often proves very useful when living somewhere as harsh as Arabia. She attends the winter meetings with her relatives to help promote the interests of the al-Nazihah but also to meet those who have interesting tales to tell and knowledge they're willing to trade for.
Translated, Decyphered and Reconstructed from the stone Journals of the Sphinx Asra Aisha Al-Nazihah, written circa 1202:
“THERE ARE ONLY THREE SPIRIT HOUSES WHO STILL WAIT IN THE ETHER.”
“THERE ARE ONLY THREE VOICES WHO WILL DISAPPOINT AND DISMISS THE FLEDGLING INVOKER”
“THE FIRST IS THE VOICE OF BRASS. SPARKS AND MOLTEN METAL. A CHILD'S FORM BUT A BUFFOON'S VOICE. IT WILL APPEAR BEGRUDGINGLY, ADJUSTING IT'S WINGS AND ASKING IF ANY KNOW HOW TO ALPHABETIZE AN ENDLESS LIBRARY”
“THE SECOND IS THE SWORD OF SIMOON. FLAMES AND ROARING WINDS. ON FLAMING WINDS IT TURNS IT'S BACK ON THE DISAPPOINTED YOUTH, PROCLAIMING THEM UNWORTHY OF FAITH AND POWER, UNABLE TO HOLD A VOW.”
“THE LAST IS THE SULTAN OF DUST, HE WHO LOVED MY LOVER'S SISTER, WHO WAS HIS OLDEST BROTHER. SPARKLING SAND TEARS AND HOWLING MOURNFUL WINDS. WITH A SAD SMILE, IT KNEELS BEFORE THE YOUTH AND ASKS HIM TO RECONSIDER HIS TRAINING. TO POSSIBLY TAKE-UP SNAKE-CHARMING, LION-TAMING, GRAVE-ROBBING OR MANTICORE MOCKING. TO TAKE UP SOMETHING LESS HEARTBREAKING.”
A vision of the future from Skaldi the Seer, Runic Diviner, 993:
“Thick black ichor sits in globules on it's ruined glass surface, the Golden Light pouring from within. Haphazardly, shaking with with-held power, the bottle rolls on it's ruined Golden Ledge, the only movement in the bleak broken shell of The Court of Dust. The ruin twirls slowly in the darkness, it's glow the only light in the broken graveyard mass of forgotten worlds, floating around the reality of a world that is fast-forgetting Spirits. Energy no longer with-held, the Bottle falls, tumbling into the darkness, spiralling into the real world.”
“Breaking the blue skies like a black and gold comet, the glass turns to liquid fire, dissipating in the rage of the elements. Unleashed, the golden glow falls screaming into the sandy crater where glassy Babylon once rose, where Tiamat was rebirthed, not a hundred miles from Baghdad. A Great Golden Glow fades, the last remnants of Blessed, Pure magic used to keep the darkness within. With a great roar, a city once again rises from the sands, full and intact.”
“Ancient stone buildings still intact, untouched by age or element. Great Bronze Icons and Lecherous Black Statues tower into the sky haphazardly. Great black birds and other forgotten carrion beasts take to the air, mistaken for carpets at distance, flying amidst a yellow haze of pestilence and rot around the great sinning city. With a clamor, the voices from within rise and rage, many aeons silenced.”
“And in the sand, the city's name is spilt in the blood of travelers and the curious. An old name. Not Baghdad. Or Babylon.”
“A City blighted by God, razed by his Vengance.”
“Gamorrah.”
“But the people of the Desert will rise. Those of The First Hero's Blood in their hearts. And they shall take the city for themselves, united in their thousands, and purge it in the name of their God. And all will celebrate…”
The Greatest Find. From the pocket of that foolish old man, you take the greatest treasure. A blackened old mirror.
A Thousand Broken Facets. Light shimmers across their ebon surface.
Briefly, you think you can see faces in the shards. Golden, orange faces, Fez-wearing and smiling, chanting.
Change.
A young female, black hair blowing in a non-existent breeze. Tears choked behind glass lenses. Both lonely and empassionned. Golden face showing both compassion and sadness.
Slowly she recites the most basic acts of compassion and self-worth. The paths to happiness and purity.
Change.
A pale-face hidden behind shadows. Symbols wind around her features and entwine her limbs. Chains wrap around her body. Cold, patient eyes stare out at you. Stare into your soul. Stare through the abyss.
Change.
There is only darkness.
Change.
The Golden Girl's face appears, harsh and serious. She beckons you to leave.
In shock, you drop the mirror and run. Shatter. Golden glow. In your hurry, you barge into the same old man from before, scarfs around his face.
He simply laughs amiably as you run away apologizing. As he reaches for his shattered glowing mirror, you swear you see a Golden flush rise to his skin, and a tear of happiness gathers in his eye.
The World is bathed in Gold as two figures embrace.