The first veils of Night fall on the plagued city. Shrieks from the innocent fill the night, accompanied by shrill, yet beautiful pipe music. The howls of Beasts accompany the mournful tune.
At the ruins of the gates, a lone, colossal figure strides on all fours, it's devilish countenance illuminated by the final ragged tears of sunlight in this umbral veil. As it's shadow falls, the sands turn black, burning in it's unnatural presence. Behind the sulking creature, it's Generals, she-creatures sniffing the air. Behind them, the Canine foot-soldiers of chaos, barking and howling with un-concerned freedom.
The Manticore returns to it's city to take Court…

The metal bars lift and attach, their edges blending together in a squall of wind and sand. As nature assembles the Great Cage, the Alchemist hums while he works, slathering the chemicals onto the bars. He'd whistle, but he does not wish to upset the Al-Nazihah's thief-girl, already edgy as she is. Their eyes meet briefly; his a humorous grin, hers apprehension.

“Will this work?” Spits Rasha “I mean, really really work?”
Mansoor shrugs “Flaming Genie Cage for an Abomination of the Heavens. Makes sense to me.”
He offers her the candle-lit Seljuk fancies. She takes one, eyes still unmoving from the craftsman and his busy-hands.

The trades-master approaches, and slaps the artificer on the back.
“Twenty –no, FORTY percent discount for you Mansoor!” Siddig beams, “Your work here is most agreeable to our family! Perhaps we could assist more casually next time? More… like family?”
Mansoor nods. Rasha glares at her brother. He smiles, a deal made.

“And you lot,” he turns “are you still happy with five percent?”
The gathered thousand Bedhouin soldiers turn from their camel-back discussions. Brought together by trade, they do not fight the Manticore for Baghdad, but for the profit.
One young Camel-rider speaks up “Ten?”
Siddig 's eyes lose their smile. “Seven”
“Eight?”
Siddig frowns “Six”
The Bedhouin nod.
“Done!” Roars Siddig, hauling himself onto Rasha's Camel, herself in the seat.
“You lot” Siddig addresses his heavies “assist Mansoor. Get thsi thing built. You know the signal.”
The boys agree. Mansoor salutes. Rasha looks preoccupied, her mongoose scurrying for the sand-ridge view of the city.
“You remember your part?” Siddig whispers to Rasha. She nods, concentrating on her actions.
“Lets just hope Zafir and his Pet Tosser get what they went for…“

“We are merely the first wave, my friends.” Shouts Siddig “There will be others who come to kill the Beast, but we must rally the city against it. The walls have made Baghdad weak. We must teach them the freedom and backbone of the Bedouin. We will cage their Tyrant, extort his unearthly worth for coin, and bring freedom to the Tigris!”
There is a roar of agreement.
“Remember Mansoor's Research: It is Alchemical. It is attracted to physical purity. The Chemical Fire will scare it, not wound it! Use fire to scare it to the cage if you can. At the moment the fight looks un-winnable, which will be soon, re-address your focus to the Jackals. Destroy it's army! Sphinxii hate logic. Landsharks hate vibration. Harpies hate arrows, blahblahBLAH! HOJOUM!”
“FOR BAGHDAD!” Roars a Bedouin.
“FOR ARABII!”
“FOR FREEDOM!”
“FOR ALLAH!”
“FOR PROFIT!” Screams Rasha.

The Camels descend upon Baghdad, whooping and hollering.
From within, the Armies of the beast roar in unison, and begin to pour forth from the streets. Harpies take to the air. There si nothing but clamour.
Under his breath, Siddig recites a disclaimer: “Or your money back…”

The Song of The Piper, The Melody of The Beasts is broken. Fifty Score Bedouin pour into the city. From his throne above the Sultan's sealed, desecrated Palace, The Piper, The Ragged-Man pauses. Slowly, he plays a different tune. And the Howling is Unearthly: every Beast and animal enraged at once as they flood screaming into the streets, a tide of Chaos against the force of Allah…
Deep within what was once a market place, The Manticore pauses from it's meal, and sniffs the air. Humoured, it prowls slowly towards it's new quarry…

The torch illuminates a huge, natural cavern. Bats cover the ceiling, modestly annoyed by your torch. The Horde has seen better days: huge piles of gold are visibly missing, huge un-dusty areas only lightly sprinkled with coin. Colossal gold statues feature wonderful new guano sculpted features and creepy-insect-nest accessories. At least it makes a change to the shit-filled tunnels you've been prowling through for the last half an hour.
Muntasir, dirt encrusted yet still as excited as a sun-addled child, begins throwing objects hap-hazardly from a pile: Large Gems, Mummified Heads, Some Gold-and-Silver-Covered Christian Kuffr Box, a number of monstrous-looking weapons. Eyeing a shiny, small silver dagger that falls against your shit-slathered sandal, you pocket it.
“Gay, Broken, Evil, Broken, Double-Evil, Double-Broken, Mega-Ga–AHA!”
Zafir side-steps around a colossal Rock Egg, to view Muntasir's catch. A bow, inlaid with precious metals and glowing amber jewels, complete with a handful of Silver arrows.
“Gilgamesh's supposedly. Could slay any Beast on Allah's Earth!”
Zafir takes them. “Shiny. I can think of someone who'll put this to good use… Anything else?”
Muntasir shakes his head. “Nota gainst that thing. All this crap is far too Gay.”
You make to leave, when a number of uniform wooden crates meet your eye.
“Those?” asks Muntasir “Eastern things. Like Big Red Pointy Satan Shlongs. Supposedly they burst into…“
The two of you meet eyes. “Fire!”

You throw the rope, grapple hooking onto the ruined clay work of a nearby house. Saliki under-arm, you swing onto the rooftop, landing perfectly. Immediately, you begin to run and roof-jump, searching for your Quarry. With a shriek, a bitter flock of Harpies desc end upon you. Angular, exagerated female features seem taughtly-pulled over a strange, elongated lizard bird, their arms splayed feather-blades, their legs savage claws. But they are frail. Without stopping, you bring your rock into them, breaking torsos and faces. Harpies fall from the sky as you run, a trail of disfigure beauty in your wake.
Then you see it. The great Beast, prowling, sniffing the air.
“GREAT KUFFR AL-MANTYKORII!” You shout.
It looks up at you. It's wizened old man-face contorting as it's eyes go pure black.
“YOUR PROGENITOR. YOUR MOTHER, IF YOU WILL HAVE SUCH A THING. ME AND HER. LAST NIGHT. THIS ROCK. FUN. TIMES.”
It smiles, cruelly. Wings spreading, lungs in-taking air, it leaps to the roofs. A Howl you can hear in your soul fills the sky.
The trap is sprung. You run across the Rofftops, The great Beast in tow…

With a Great, Sickening Roar, the Manticore takes to the skies. The Cries and Shouts of the Bedouin, tearing into it's beast Armies, double as the Jackals fight back, tearing and biting. Flames begin to spread, only small bonfires on street squares. From the dust, Sphinxii and Sirynii arise, words and song filling the air. The Arabs hold their ears, their deaths play in silence in their own head. Then came the Trumpets. And the Ponies. And the Elephants.

The Ayyubid Ponies stop short of the city, the Saracens' bows at the ready. Upon his personal pure-white steed, The Emir of Damascus stands. Al-Afdal Spreads his arms, and takes air into his lungs.
” People of Baghdad, fear not! I, Al-afdal, first son of Salah ad'Din have arrived to free you from the tyrannical rule of the Mantykora! No longer shall you live in fear of fiendish creatures baying at your door, of demonic beasts gnawing on your roofs. We shall drive out the beast within, and take this city back! Allah is great! HOUJOUM!!”
A cloud of arrows fill the air. A horde of Harpies fall, Sphinxii wounded, Sirynii spiraling, tumbling out the air.
The Bedouin and Baghdad militia cheer as the ponies join them, the Jackal armies pushed back to the Tigris…

Then comes the parade. Emerging from the port-side of the city, crossing the Tigris, come ten-score elephants, chanting and hollering. On their sides, the Greek names of Famous nobles and Traders. At their front, nestled in a howdah upon the most magnificent, jewelry-be-laden of the Beasts, is the Golden Tusk himself, Loxos of Byzantium, Spear in hands, rallying his Elephants to crush the Dogs. Alongside him is Princess Petra of Rus, Crossbow in hand, taking pot-shots at the Wolves, and a tiny , rose-hued, emaciated elephant trumpeting happily to the carnage. The people of Baghdad cheer…

Crushed between the Militia, Bedhouin, Saracens and Elephants, the Foot-Soldiers of the Beast are contained. Their Generals, and Tyrant however, still roam…

Al-Afdal rides ahead, stopping in friont of Basil, Proud Prince of the Ivory Herd.
“Honoured Golden Tusk, Princess of Tombs! Are we met in battle against this most foul of Beasts?”
Loxos beams, hands shaking with the Son of Saladin.
“Of course! But don't think you're taking that Thing's Great-Trunk back for Daddy! The Kill's mine, so we can show these Desert folk who's The Patriarch, if you catch my drift.”
Al-Afdal, stretching, kisses Petra's hand, frowning.
“You jest of course? We kill the Beast to give these people their city, not for dominance…?”
“No. No killing The Manticore.”
The royals turn. Zafir strides from the River bank, his arms full of strange objects, shite encrusting his legs. With him, the oaf Muntasir, similarly bedraggled. Hands are smellily shaken.
“Muntasir's Hordes. Shit Tunnels. Don't Ask.” Grimaces Zafir “The Beast is An Abomination to Life. We doubt it can be killed. But it can be stopped. And if caged, we show our superiority. But first…”
Zafir unloads the crates to Basil's trunk, and throws the bow to Al-Afdal.
“Eastern Fire-Things to scare it. Gilgamesh's bow to wound it. Be careful, there's only 6 arrows.”
Al-Afdal beams, amiably, turning over the beautiful weapon in his hands. Loxos frowns, murmurring something about the bow. Al-Afdal counts his arrows: three. Frowning, he looks at Tapir, who has the others in his trunk. Loxos ruffles him, aiming one alongside his bow.
“Scare it, poke it, shoot it. Keep it on it's toes. Don't just ride in there, screaming blue murder. You. will. Die.”
Muntasir bellows. “Ha-HA! ILL-ADVISED”
Zafir nods to him. “You, protect Siddig. You three, provoke it to run out of the city, then kill it's friends.”
“What are you going to do Zafir?” asks Petra.
Zafir turns, striding away, sword in hand.
“Ride it. Ride it like a Bitch.”

Sending Rasha's camel off to safety, you smile to yourself as you hear the defensive growling of the Hounds. Your plan has worked. The Manticore is seperated from the bulk of his army. You stand in the streets, fifty-percent victorious already. You owe yourself a discount.
A pipe plays. A single note.
The dirt around you explodes. You fall onto the ground, several feet away. You feel like you've been punched in the chest.
You look up. A figure in raged robes. Bandages obscure his face and hands. A pipe raised to his lips.
The Ragged Man. You swear to Allah.
“I've always hated you Desert People. From my throne, I looked down at you no matter how high you climbed.” His voice little more than a whisper. “You've ruined my plan. Without the last White Flame, the Manticore is ill-fit to ascend. The Eye is merely a viewing device without the flame, rather than a portal. It matters little: our Virgin Quarry was tainted Black instead of teh White Purity we reasoned. Your sister should do to calm the Beast. Still, you've ruined everything. Now, your endeavors end here.”
Four Bedouin rush to your side, swords drawn.
The Piper sighs, and plays four notes; harsh, high and brief. Blood erupts from the ears of the Bedouin. They fall to the ground, dead.
You can see the Piper smiling beneath his bandages. He arises the pipe for an encore. You clsoe your eyes, awaiting the end…
“HA-HA!”. The sound of bodies hitting dirt.
You open your eyes. Muntasir is kneeling on the Ragged Man's chest, rags thrown everywhere, forcing his fists around the Piper's throat.
“Not My New Boss, Old Boss!” Laughs Muntasir, “And while we're at it, WHERE'S MY EYE?”
The Piper spins his Pipe to his choked lips. A single low note.
Then the Shark erupts from the street.

Running out of Roofs, Rasha makes the leap towards the gate, Saliki in arms, swearing under her breath constantly. She feelsx the Manticore's breath behind her: cold, yet consuming, like being locked in a room with no light. A Siryn swoops up to meet her: Unnaturally beautiful, her arms Paradise wings, her legs a serpents tail. Rasha uses it as an aerial step, propelling her out and beyond the rubble of the City Walls.
The Beast stops corpse still, black eyes calculating. Rasha swears. It's worked out it's a trap.
It smiles. Fur bristles, becoming darts, ready for launch.
Then the Fire happens. Bright, new stars cover the sky. Bright purple and pink flames, all around the City. Ruinned walls glowing with blazing flame.
The Beast yowls, terrified. Pannicced, it turns it's undivided attention to Rasha. The Sky and City are aflame. She's not on fire. It leaps, eyes avoiding the blaze, and pounces towards the girl. The Chase back on, it howls thunder.
Rasha turns to run, tripping over her own feet. She hits the ground hard, swearing, Mongoose falling from her hands.
The Beast advances… Something jumps from teh roof behind it… blade shining
A Yowl of pain. Zafir straddles the Beast, Black Blade hacking into it's flesh. Every wound is useless, as the wounds, revealing black absence beneath the skin, simply reknit.
But the Beast is controlled. It bucks, fighting for freedom. Zafir tries to lead it forward, aiming it's eyes towards Rasha, scrabling to her feet, running into the Desert. But it fights for freedom, against the pain, against the fire. The Tail stabs, swiping.
Zafir howls in pain, falling backwards. The poison burns. His black-blade spins through the air, embedding deep within the floor. Rasha swears, and charges the beast, rock in hand. Tail swiping, it catches her on the chest, shrieking in pain.
The Manticore turns around, aiming to kill Zafir…

The Pain is too much. Zafir's head is nothing but fire. He sees the Blade. Caught deep in the floor. Black blood pours forth from the ground.
The Blood has a voice, thick and old.
“THE MONSTER THREATENS YOUR BLOODLINE. TAKE IT'S CROWN SMITE IT BACK TO THE ABYSS IT BIRTHED FROM.”
Zafir reaches for the blade, but the cold breath of the Manticore is upon him.

The first Arrow catches it Imbetween the eyes. The Manticore swears, a black flame burning forth from it's brow.
Zafir rolls out of the way, gathering his blade, joining his sister, both doubled in pain.
Petra punches the air from the Howdah of the Charging Elephant, a Pony racing alongside it. Loxos lowers his bow, Al-Afdal keeping his steady as he stands awkwardly on his steed's back.
“First Blow to us!” Laughs Loxos.
“Let's hope it's not the Last!” bellows Al-Afdal.
The Manticore readies for the charge. Tail posed, claws swinging. The Steeds pull close, waiting for killing-range…
The Claws strike. Arrows fly.
The Beast yowls in pain, high-pitched and inappropriate, turning as it falls. A mischievous mongoose appears from the Beasts provates, maw speckled in blood, returning to it's Mistress.
Each Arrow sinks into an eye. The Beast is blinded. The Claws still swing.
The Pony is eviscerated. Al-Afdal leaps from his dead mount, loading and aiming in mid-air. Another Arrow enters it's mouth. Another scream. Black flame pours from eyes and mouth. Basil's trunk snatches Al-Afdal from middair, and brings him to the Howdah.
The beast's fur bristles and flies. Each a poisonned dart. Al-Afdal is prone, Petra exposed. Loxos throws himself in the way. The Darts embed…
Loxos grunts, falling to the Howdah's floor. Having taken the full-brunt of the Manticore's attack, he slaps an exposed piece of skin on Basil, the Elephant turning and blocking the path back into the city.
Blinded, terrified and humbled, the Manticore, a burning shadow of it's former self, sniffs the air. It turns, facing the Desert-entering, running figures of Rasha and Zafir. It will play this game to the hilt. It will finish this.
Charging, howling in fury, the Manticore disappears into the Desert.
“Well, that's our part done.” Grunts Al-Afdal. Loxos shakes his hand. Petra turns, hanging on the edge of the Howdah.
“If you don't mind, I'm off for some monster-blagging. Good luck and all that stuff” She lets go, disappearing into the crowd. Loxos and Al-Afdal shrug at each other. Suddenly, pipe-music. And a subterranean roar.
“To glory?” Asks Al-Afdal.
“I bet you, even covered in burning hair and you with that bow, and this arrow” Loxos painfully hands the Son of Saladin the last Arrow, and picks up his Spear “I can kill whatever that is before you?”
Al-Afdal smiles. Tapir trumpets gayly.

Pained, Blinded and Enraged, The Manticore runs into the Desert…

This was a good haul. Two Giant She-Hyena pelts, a handful of Sirynii feathers and too-many Jackals teeth. Petra is pleased with herself when she finds the graveyard. Simple, barely marked graves in the sandy earth.
First she notices the bodies. Hundreds of dead Jackals. All torn apart by claws. Feline claws. Petra looks up..
Sitting in resplendence, as if accepting a court, is a Sphynx. Blood stains her bestial body, her beautiful, Egyptian-looking human-parts moon-white, reflecting the moonlight. It smiles beautifully, pleased to have company. Gold and Malachite jewelry cover it's breasts.
“Clever girl” whispers Petra, crossbow bolt flying. “They'll like you back in Court”
With tonight's quarry in tow, Petra whistles happily to the wind…

The land-shark roars, it's great blind eyes beaming rage, it's colossal maw snapping down around Muntasir. The Idiot-savant laughs, painned.
“HA-HA! AGONIZING!”
The Hero fights back, but his attention has been rightfully redirected: The Ragged Man scrabbles to his feet. Siddig, suddenly empowered, gives chase.
The Landshark erupts fully from the ground, it's albino body pinning Muntasir down. the laughter has stopped. The great maw prepares to consume.
The final arrow flies. Between the eyes. The Shark roars, it's body consumed by White Flame, collapsing into a home, crushing it into dust. The fire dies, leaving nothing but a fish skeleton.
Al-Afdal stands proud a-stride Basil's trunk, gleaming Holy-Bow in hand. Loxos leans against the Howdah, his body covered in tiny darts, his face in considerable concentration, teeth gritted, Spear in hands.
“Show off.” Spits Loxos.
Siddig grabs the Ragged man by the cloak, discarding his rags. The Piper turns, bandages revealing rotted, dirtied Western clothes, once-of-some considerable wealth, judging by the ruined gold thread. His face, hoodless, you can see, has no eyes, simply empty sockets, crying black tears. With pained determination, the Ragged Man lifts his pipe to his mouth..
Siddig knows little of fighting, but he knows basic male anatomy. The Piper drops his instrument, Siddig's knee in his crotch. He hits the ground with impact, but grabs his pipe again. A sailing spear enters his throat, pinning him to the ground.
The Piper gurgles a scream, bandages undoing. A spurt of black blood, Loxos collapses over the side of his Howdah, Al-Afdal clapping him on the back.
Muntasir joins Siddig, leaning on each-other from exhaustion.
Loxos hangs over Basil, peering at the fallen Ragged Man.
“Well well, Desert Trader, what do we have he–” He stops, his eyes widening.
“The Beasts General. Some inhuman Kuff–” begins Siddig.
“By Great Barbar's Trunk…” whispers Loxos ”…no eyes.. Imperial garb… no… NO!”
The Ragged Man lets out a gurgling laugh. His twisted, dead flesh twitches, his pipe unnaturally flying to his throat. A single deep note.
The explosion is loud and wide. Even Basil is thrown to the air.
When the dust clears, The Ragged man is gone. Loxos stares up at the stars, exhausted and still pained.
“Andronikos.” He mouthes, “Andronikos.”
Muntasir pipes up. “And he STILL has my Eye!” Siddig turns to him, “Shut up.” The Howling suddenly ceases. There is silence…

Zafir collapses in the sand, no longer able to run. The manticore is only seconds behind them.
Rasha turns, dragging her brother by his sleeve. The Pain becomes too much. She gets ready to fall, to die.
A hand grabs her leg. She is pulled, losing balance. Collapsing into the hidden bunker, her brother in tow, Mansoor shushes her silent, and begins to apply, a stinging green liquid to both Bedouin. Rasha grits her teeth in refusal to scream.
The beast approaches. Roaring. Confused. It sniffs the air, and turns to a new scent.
A girl, in little but silk shawls, lies, prone, in the sand. She beckons to the Beast. Slavering, it approaches.
Closer it stalks, Mansoor and the Al-Nazihah watching every step.
It is within tasting range. It roars, and raises a claw.
The Girl removes her shawls in a single motion. A portly orange-skinned youth in a fez yawns into the night. The Manticore pauses in puzzlement.
From the sand, the bars erupt. Turab clicks his fingers, and a wind seals and the bars at once. The Manticore is still confused.
Then the bars become aflame. The Manticore screams. Turab smiles to Rasha, who tries to shout him a warning…
The claw connects. Turab flies out the Cage, his body passing like smoke through the bars. But crumples heavily on the sand.
Glittering white jewels spill from his chest, strewn to the air.
Rasha and Zafir run to Turab, quivering on the sand. His body is withered, his glowing skin hanging to his bones. His chest and stoumach are little more glowing rags of canvas in the wind…
The Djinn looks up at Rasha and Zafir “Hey… Incense… heads…“
Rasha tries not to cry. Zafir shakes with rage. Mansoor is caught between them and The Beast, struggling in it's prison…
“I won't die… I just… won't be here… for a while…” Turab chokes, the colour fading from his body ”…bloody… manticore… tell… Maha… she'll need to speak… to The Mountain… tell her…“
His skin shatters like old parchment, and falls shining into the air.
Tears of rage fall down Rasha's face, Mansoor holds her. Zafir turns, blade drawn, to the Manticore.
Strangely, The Beast is lounging in it's cage, having given up with struggling.
“I REALLY WOULDN'T TRY THAT, BOY” The Voice sounds in all their ears, “I'M FAR MORE USEFUL TO YOUR CAUSE WHILE IMPRISONED WITHIN THIS ABYSSAL CONFLAGRATION”
They stare, astonished at the Beast.
It sighs. “TO ANSWER YOUR FIRST QUESTION, BECAUSE YOU NEVER ASKED…“

A great howling in the sky. A single, piping note. The Beast armies panic. The Jackals, their eyes suddenly a natural, beautiful blue, turn on the other Desert Dogs and Beasts. The Armies of the Manticore are fled. A great, triumphant celebration fills the air. Voices, Ponies, Camels, Elephants. Even the bray of now-supportive Jackals. Baghdad is left to it's people.

Immediately, Loxos and Al-Afdal begin excavation work on the City's Royal Palace, removing the barricades with Brute Force. The Palace Guard and Sultan's family at first seem fine despite their imprisonment. Then Petra asks where the servants are. The Grim realization soon descends on Loxos and Al-Afdal, The Son of Saladin personally seeing that the Heathens are executed in the name of Allah.
True to the rumours, a young girl responding to the name Masa, maybe of 16 years, is rescued, the sole-survivor in the dungeon-become-cannibal-kitchen. She briefly explains how her “family” turned against her by way of “some strange Music”, and sought protection in the City. However, she was captured, believed to eb part of the Beasts, and tortured. Embittered, she wishes to be left alone by the people of Baghdad, and ventures forth into the desert, the army of Jackals following her.

The following week is mostly spent beginning to rebuild the destruction. The Bedouin make their excuses and leave, but the Saracens and Byzantines help reconstruct the City Walls, and clean the streets of bodies, making the city live-able again.

Al-Afdal delivers a proclamation to the people of Baghdad, stating that if the Arabian People need them, the Ayubid are but a message away, but neither they, nor the Byzantine Empire, will attempt to take their city away from them. They do not wish to repeat the travesties of the seljuk occupation. Reluctantly, but amiably, Loxos shakes on this, as does Siddig Al-Nazihah, promising a five-percent discount for the people of Baghdad. A great celebration is had.

Amongst his speech, Al-Afdal names Khawan Al-Katara, the Lion of Tikrit, the new Sultan of Baghdad. There si silence, filled by many whispers and angry rumours of how Al-Katara has spent the last year in a Jerusalem brothel and is utterly unreliable. Then Al-Afdal begins to giggle. Then chuckle. Then guffaw. Then Loxos laughs. And Petra laughs. And the Al-Nazihah laugh. And the entirety of Baghdad laughs. It is a very funny joke.
A temporary Sultan is chosen as Muhammed Al-Azraman, although it is certain that his position over Al-Khatara's will cause nothing but more violence between the two families.

”…so you're absolutely sure you won't convert?” Asks the recently arrived Cardinal Jean-Ricard.
“PLEASE” begins The Great Beast, wounded eyes rolling, “I'M AN ABOMINATION AGAINST ANY GREAT DEITY, EXISTENT OR NOT. I KNOW BETTER THAN TO TRUST ANYONE JUST BECAUSE HE WEARS A FUNNY HAT.”
“You're right,” Jean Ricard sighs, getting up from his seat aside the Manticore's flaming Prison. “He does make you feel small.”
The Interrogation party surround the front of the newly erected outpost around The Beast's prison.
Zafir keeps his blade thrust forward, between the cage-bars. Siddig speaks to it's great, wounded face.
“So, you say you were just a pawn in all this?”
“MORE LIKE A QUEEN” The Monster lounges, unusually chatty. “THE RAGGED MAN WAS THE PLAYER. I'VE BEEN HERE IN THE DESERT FOR SO LONG, BOREDOM SINKS IN EASILY. THIS IS THE FOURTH TIME I'VE RAVAGED BAGHDAD. I DIDN'T NEED MUCH PROVOCATION TO GORGE MYSELF ON PURE MAIDENS. THE PIPER WAS DEFINITELY USING ME, BUT I KNEW THAT. WANTED ME TO ASCEND, OR DESCEND. SOMETHING. WHATEVER THAT MEANS. SOMETHING ABOUT AN EYE. I'M PART ABOMINATION, PART BEAST; RELIGION DOESN'T COME NATURALLY TO ME. OR AT ALL. BECAUSE I”M A MONSTER, GODLESS KILLING MACHINE, YOU UNDERSTAND.”
“No, not really.” Siddig shakes his head.
“The Eye of Darius,” moans Zafir “He still has it?”
Muntasir nods. “Haha. Not good.”
“I still can't believe it.” Loxos stretches his sore, non-toxicated body, “Emperor Andronikos. A Servant of Evil.”
“Or Something.” Chips in Mansoor, still adding Anti-Toxin ointment to Loxos.
“There's still something that riles me though…” Rasha stands up, approaching the Beast.
“AH!” The Beast sniffs the air, adoringly, “THE GIRL…“
”…if you wern't in Baghdad for the power, or the Sultan, or the Eye, and you weren't eating Maidens indiscriminately, but instead checking each one for something…“
“YES. I WAS AFTER A VERY SPECIAL SNACK. A VERY DELICIOUS MORSEL TRAVELLED HERE FROM FOREIGN LANDS. A VIRGIN SOUL OF SUCH PURITY, OF SUCH… DIVINE BIRTHRIGHT, YET TAINTED WITH IT'S OWN UN-DENIABLE EVIL, WRAPPED UP WITHIN SEVEN LAYERS OF LIES. A VERY SPECIAL VIRGIN MAIDEN. IN FACT, I SMELL HER ON YOU.”
There is a silence.
“A foreign Virgin?” Petra asks, stepping away from the cage.
“I didn't think there were any.” Adds Al-Afdal. Holding his hand out to be slapped palm-wards, Loxos does so.
“That we know?” questions Jean-Ricard. “All of us?”
“ENOUGH OF YOU” states the Manticore, scratching itself, “I THINK YOU CALL HER THE LION OF TIKRIT”.
There is silence.
“By Allah's name.” Excalims Al-Afdal, under his breath, “Good thing I didn't choose him for Sultan. Everyone knows Virgins can't govern.”

• Mansoor - Manticore Venom, Manticore Fur
• Siddig - A crate of Eastern Fireworks, saved from Muntasir's Horde
• Rasha - Sparkling White Dust (Djinn Blood), Claw Scar on Chest.
• Zafir - A Short, Silver Throwing Knife, decorated with a Lion's head, Claw Scar on Chest.
• Al-Afdal - Gilgamesh's Fancy Bow.
• Loxos - Dirty Rags of Byzantine Imperial Garb, A Burning Uncomfortable Rash.
• Petra - Jackals Teeth. A Live Sphinx, Siryn Feathers, Two Skinned She-Hyenas.
• Jean-Ricard - Manticore dung stuck to your sandal.