Fiction:Odyssey of the Desert/Prologue

This is the prologue of the.

Promises of Unfolding Fate
Early Winter, 32 NA

Dust filled the air as the sands of the dunes were parted by the hulls of sandships that traversed across the desert expanse; a moderately-sized vessel sat at the centre of the rather small and covert formation, with it being escorted by various smaller ships that were fitted with cannons and harpoons for defensive purposes. By the cover of night they travelled so as to not be caught by any raiders that would be active during the day, or by prolonged exposure to the rays of the scorching sun, yet as a consequence the crews had to endure the ferociously cold darkness of the desert winter. This was not an assault force by any means - too small a formation for even a raid -, and instead of munitions, the sandships carried far more valuable and expensive cargo. The sight of horse-sized scorpions roaming the landscape was indication they were arriving to their destination, and not long after they spotted the ruined foundations of the old kingdom of Growlthal, former homeland of the dune orcs. The walls which once shielded the city-kingdom were mostly destroyed, and debris of wrecked buildings dominated the view. As the sandships arrived, loud roars echoed through the air as large, winged creatures rose to the air, as if signalled of their new visitors.

A set of stairs extended from the side of the larger vessel and buried itself partially into the sandy earth, with the navigators of the sandships ensuring that they did not travel too close to solid rock that their vehicles would become stranded. From the steps descended a group of individuals draped in thick, obscuring red robes and hoods, decorated with golden patterns that could only have been designed by the noble artists of ; one figure, taller than the others, stood at the centre of the group of individuals, and approached the ruined walls of Growlthal without hesitation, although it could be seen that the figure's escorts were not as confident as he was - they hesitated and took cautious steps, while the taller figure strolled with a swift and eager pace. The monsters in the sky growled and roared as they flew over the heads of the group, some of them coming down to land on top of the ruined homes which once housed families of orcs, and as they growled and hissed at them, they could see truly what inhabited this place: s of all sizes, colours and shapes. The hooded figures passed glances towards the inhabitants of Growlthal, some expressing worry or fear while others found themselves curious and excited to be in the presence of such powerful and majestic creatures, yet the leader of the group analyzed the grounded dragons swiftly with brief shifts of his head before dismissing their presence. He was on a path towards the centre of the plaza. The heart of Growlthal and the Sand Drake colony.

As they arrived to the center of the city, they could see the ruined foundations of what was once the Growlthal people's government palace, where their Chieftain-King once resided. Their arrival was marked by a powerful breath of sand being launched at their direction as a loud, angered roar could be heard. The robed figures stepped back and scattered as the blast of sand met their path, swiftly evading so as to not be caught in the powerful gust of sharp, cutting sand shards. Following the assault on them, the taller figure brushed off dust from his robes and glanced in the direction of where the attack had come from, raising his head towards the skies while his escorts regained their footing and moved to surround him once more. This was followed by the sight of an immense wyvern flying directly at them, his talons sent down to one of the figures and raking them with extreme prejudice as his tail was sent down to another, his spikes crushing and stabbing into the flesh with enough force to bury them in the sand. The dragon roared out in clear anger as he attacked. The robed figures that had surrounded the taller individual began to attempt to restrain him and drag him back towards the sandships, yet the figure shrugged them away, knocking several to the floor, and slowly - carefully - stepped towards the gargantuan Sand Drake.


 * ??? - ... You are ?

The dragon briefly stopped his rampage as he glanced to the figure, his wings folding as he turned and walked at his direction, keeping his head down at the same level as the intruder. He was easily large enough to devour many of the robed figures in one bite, and the taller figure was barely able to reach the creature's knees.


 * Asemath - Let it be known that you found him before he punished you for your trespassing, pigdog.
 * ??? - As I had presumed. ... I apologize for my transgression, dear elder drake, but there was little else to be done to contact you or convince you, for I come to you this day with a proposition in mind if you would be so... inclined.
 * Asemath - Enough speech. Meals are not meant to speak. I want nothing with you mere creatures.
 *  - And would you want something with, mayhaps... the kindly Pharaoh?

The figure raised his hands and clasped the sides of his hood before he allowed it to lower behind his head, exposing his face to Asemath's view; his eyes seemed to glow a bright, illuminating blue as he glanced towards the snout of the colossal Sand Drake, before meeting his own, draconic eyes. He did not express fear or concern on his face, but he did not come to Asemath bearing confidence or reckless bravery either. His reveal, however, did not appear to faze Asemath in any way, and the dragon reacted by swinging a wing into the sand, throwing it at the Pharaoh's face in a rather mocking manner.


 * Asemath - Mere creature, regardless of titles. You sand cats look all the same to me.
 * Khyannarith - Trust in my words when I say that I would have strayed far from your lands if I had nothing I knew I could offer you, great creature. ... I know you seek to expand your power beyond all else. And I come to you with such an opportunity.
 * Asemath - You know too much of me, cat. But I will listen. Give me reasons for me not to devour you and your people where you stand.
 * Khyannarith - I can grant you the means to dominate your kind as you would please... and to at last rid the sands of your misguided father as you never could before.

The dragon approched Khyannarith more than before, his teeth barred and easily visible, each larger than the Ankhor Pharaoh's whole head.


 * Asemath - This had better not be a waste of my time. You make bold statements and I do not have time to play around.
 * Khyannarith - Trust in me, great drake, for even if my kind are little more than mere morsals to your eyes, we commit ourselves to study nonetheless. ... Arcane study, in these circumstances. What would you happen to know of the concept of magnetism?
 * Asemath - Only what is necessary to know. What of it?
 * Khyannarith - When a mortal dies, by convention, their soul is drawn to the depths of the Underworld in a magnetic fashion, barring the practice of sacrifice to the Twelve Pagans, in which souls are drawn to that of a respective Simulacra or their most prominent serfs. ... What if I were to tell you my Cabal has found a means by arcane study to play upon this magnetism? ... To alter it?
 * Asemath - You speak of folly and you obviously have no knowledge of Simulacra. The dead are harvested by the Grim Reaper in person. There is no magnetism involved.
 * Khyannarith - The Grim Reaper sets the magnetism into motion, dear elder drake. And my Cabal has uncovered a means to assure that the souls of the condemned do not flow to the Underworld as He intends. ... A means to redirect a soul following death.
 * Asemath - ... You claim to have the means to elude death?
 * Khyannarith - I claim to have the means to attain a power unseen by the world. All natives of this world are born of one soul; their power, in turn, is confined to it. You and I are alike in that we possess a single, lone soul, and our powers derive from it. ... I have the means to change the natural order.

Asemath, who had until now retained his battle-ready stance, relaxed as he looked down at Khyannarith.


 * Asemath - ... I repeat, you are making bold statements, Ankhor. But I will play along.
 * Khyannarith - I assure you, great drake, that while my claims are indeed bold, they carry naught deception. ... The Sea of Sand belongs to the great Sohet and drakekind. The time comes for us to enforce our reign on it.
 * Asemath - "Our" reign? You are no Sohet.
 * Khyannarith - In time, I shall prove to be their successor, as they had intended. As fate has intended. And of all creatures, drakes would surely know of fate, such as it is yours, by chance, to usurp the damned Old One?
 * Asemath - Hm... Yes. I am fated to rule all dragons of sand. I was born alongside the Colossus as a warning.
 * Khyannarith - The two of us, Ankhor and Sand Drake; we are inheritors of something greater. Something beyond mortals - something beyond, perhaps, even Isiris. And now, we must both work to... transcend the shackles that bind us and grasp the legacy fate has laid before us.

The Pharaoh's neutral expression raised into a smile, dismissing - perhaps forgetting - the losses the great Sand Drake had caused him just moments prior. Indeed, he spoke and assured Asemath with an atmosphere of confidence, as if he held absolute faith in the proposition he had approached the Sand Drake with. The immortal Pharaoh's escorts scattered to their feet while Khyannarith turned, making preparations to return to his sandship.


 * Khyannarith - There lies platinum, gold, and other grand treasures drawn from the personal reliquary of the Monarchial Estate in Khaepsharathas within the hulls of my escort vessels. Consider such an offering of my kindness and a seal of trust for our new... partnership.
 * Asemath - Treasures for a hoard... You know well to not approach a dragon without a gift, ca-... Khyannarith.