Vote Up A Campaign Setting: Discussion Thread II

[afroakuma]

Welcome back, folks! The discussion of Hourglass of Zihaja has grown beyond the confines of two threads now, so I've had to craft a third!

And what did I uncover...

Also, in case you missed something, the collective Lore so far:

Results of the Vote

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Genre: Arabian Nights/Desert Fantasy
Thematic Priorities: Mystique/Travel/Tradition/Multiculturalism/Classic Threats/Fate & Destiny
Magic Level: Moderate
PC Races: Human, Half-Djinn, Lizardfolk, Sabi, Half-Ghul, Kobold & Gnoll
Human Percentage: 50%
Primary Antagonists: Use of Magic
Geography: Few Large Continents
Primary Religion: One Single God (Zihaja)
Cosmology: Yin/Yang Planes (these have been named Siraaj as the Yang plane and Najmah as the Yin plane)
Politics: City-States
Advanced Classes: Alchemist, Dervish, Geomancer, Djinn Lord, Master of the Wastes, & Pharaoh
Setting Title: Hourglass of Zihaja

Lore of the Races

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Kobolds
Kobolds are canny and entrepreneurial. This small, reptilian people have a nose for opportunity, a zest for living and a heritage of talent. Though less numerous than other peoples, their long history and prolific spread has led to their traditional tongue becoming the common trade language.

Lizardfolk
The reserved lizardfolk are a conservative race, deeply community-oriented and sensible to the world around them. Preferring a slower-paced lifestyle, lizardfolk have taken a corner of the world for their own, from which they may spread to sample or integrate with members of other cultures. Though more devoted to art than to science, lizardfolk have taken to the seas with aplomb, and are experts in the art of sail.

Gnolls
The hyenalike gnolls are massive, powerful and sociable. The greatest mercantile race, gnolls are present in urban and rural areas as well as in nomadic groups. Gnolls are the finest and wisest traders and put their weight fully behind the causes they love.

Sabi
The children of the dancing blood, sabi are the heirs of genie bloodlines, and feel the allure of their sorcerous ancestry heavily. Though many choose to hide these traits, blending in to be merely elite citizens of their lands, some tap their racial power with great zeal. Descended from four disparate races, sabi nonetheless come to know their own and have banded together in many areas, whether openly or no.

Half-Djinn
Born of a genie and a mortal, half-genies are often identified as such eaqrly on in life. Whether this leads to glorification or ostracism is dependent on the circumstances of their birth, but it is said that mortal culture is not ready for the power and exotic nature of these people. Too, genie culture is fickle and may alternately include or deride them, leaving them to find their own place as leaders among sabi and those who work with the mysterious and exotic.

Half-Ghul
Scarred by the act of conception, the half-ghul's soul is restless. Living concealed almost everywhere they travel, half-ghuls have no links and no home. Few mortal parents willingly care for their offspring, and their dark parentage offers few comforts either. As such, many strike out alone, infiltrating the cities of mortals in an effort to find acceptance or lashing out at the world that has no shelter for their blood.

Of Our History: Meeting the Humans

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In the middle time of our people, the two-legged ones from the eastern desert came to sit and share our shade. These humans called themselves teachers, holy men, and they told us their stories of right & wrong, of their ways and laws.

Now in those days, we had no tongue to share with the two-leg men. Two moons came twice before we began to speak as one. They praised a spirit they called Johoum, and wished to tell our young ones of Johoum. We did not understand what they meant. We tried to tell them our secrets, of the fruit that hides water, of our conflicts with the cold brothers, of the birds of the light and the scavenging beasts that are the enemies of all, but we had no understanding.

They showed us their secrets then, and we asked them, why do you carry with you a symbol of evil? for they bore a red rock with the face of the sun. The humans told us, this is the symbol of Johoum.

The wisest withdrew, and at last came back with an answer. Our sage pointed to the sun, saying, That is Johoum? Yes, they told us.

Afraid now, we tried to reason with them. What do you call an enemy, we said, who has immortal power, who seeks to harm and kill without question, and hates the people? They told us, we call it demon.

And we said, we call it Johoum, and now we understand one another. But the humans said no, and they left and did not come again.

The Fall of the Tower of Dust

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Those ruins that we pass twice every year, have we ever told you their story?

That is the Tower of Dust - the home of a terrible wizard, the master of a genie bound to a rod of lapis. The wizard sent his slave to destroy a town and build on its foundations from the sand of the desert.

The wizard and his dao terrorized the land, until one day a hermit came to this pass. This hermit was master of these wastes, and had felt the dao's powers from miles away. Now he came, and stood in the court of the wizard, and told him to leave his lands be. The wizard laughed, and cast forth a horrible killing magic.

The treacherous powers of the dao's student washed over the hermit like a gentle breeze. As the hermit advanced, with a heavy staff in hand, the wizard struck again, summoning the poison of a thousand scorpions.

Again, the hermit did not even flinch. He struck his staff once, twice, three times against the floor, and millions of insects rushed into the tower, overwhelming the vile wizard and preventing his sorcery. As the master of the waste left the tower, a great wind rose up and tore apart the dust of the tower, casting it around the desert.

The wizard has died, but some believe his dao remains, trapped in the rod in the ruin. The master of the waste did not want it, and rightly so.

Now you know why we stay on our course, and tread lightly on these sands. Wish not to go to those ruins, and ware the man who walks alone in the desert.

Excerpted from the Second Travels of the Cartographers

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...over the Bridge of Bone, we tracked down the broken temple we had searched for. Under the fullest light of a blazing sun, we observed three nearly intangible beings treading upwards to the top of one particular ziggurat. The indented stone they pressed opened a secret shaft, into which descended the light of the sun. As they passed within, we quickly followed after, finding in the heart of the building a gently coruscating pool.

Azhmad, the lizardman, stepped in first, plunging through almost as fast as thought. Feeling the liquid mildly cool to the touch, I decided to risk entry as well.

What I saw on the other side, I may only begin to describe. I have heard tales and rumors and secondhand incidents of this place; but now it was in front of my eyes.

We stood on a beach of whitest sand, facing a dense growth of exotic trees. Luminous birds flew above, in a sky of blackest night, though festooned with brightly shining stars. In the sweet-smelling air we basked, walking along the shore until we came to a vessel of rich, dark wood, piloted by a creature much like a deva, carrying as passengers the most beautiful beings I will ever see. Lizardman, she-gnoll, kobold child, all were to me more perfect than the whole of the harem of the Sultan of Ostaz himself.

The Arrival of the Pharaoh

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Decades past, our town saw the arrival of a terrible desert dragon. Harsh as a sandstorm, fearsome as a master ghul, wicked as a dao, the beast slaughtered our animals, despoiled our water and laid waste to our shelters.

A contingent of warriors arrived, pursuing news of the creature. Lizard men bearing long, pendulous, bladed chains. A furman in a dervish's tunic. Two blue-skinned women who carried pure water in midair. All of these paled in comparison to the one who led them.

Though shorter in stature by far than they, and ridiculous perhaps to a child's eye, the kobold who led them radiated competence and power. His brow held high, his eyes outlined in kohl and gold, his teeth sharpened and bold, this was a one to be feared and loved.

The beast came, and the pharaoh's men set out, the lizardfolk binding it with lengths of chain, the genasi chilling it with their mysterious genie-spell. As the beast raged, the gnoll spun, dancing with twin sabers between the crushing claws.

At last, the beast was laid low. The whole city came to see the bound dragon. A murmur rustled through the crowd, as the warriors kneeled in reverence. I was a child then, and I remember seeing those before me step aside or fall to all fours, making way for this small, scaly man. As he came to me, I myself understood his glory, and would have fallen in awe had I not had a sudden insight that I should follow him.

Indeed I did, and with several others, many of us children, we trailed him to the head of the dragon. Standing atop it, he drew forth a golden sword and removed the beast's head with one fell swoop. And at that moment, the crowd was his, adoring him completely.

That day, I understood why we follow a pharaoh. Never will I doubt the power and strength of our great and glorious ruler.

Snippets From A Bazaar I

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Get away, boy - he's a sorcerer. See his beard smolders?

Our lord welcomes you to the Middle Way - the way of Daq...

The Zihaja Thesis? I hadn't heard...

A trio of dervishes? Just how big was this asp cult?

Asp-men? Not here, we won't see them. They can't touch us.

Is that actually an aazlai? I've never met one before.

I understood that there was a bidding war between Rasalhague and Rasaljathi.

The City of Gates closed? What will that mean for the orange trade?

Two more children gone? It was half-moon still last night, yes? Somebody must tell the imam...

Not really a ghul? So their hearts were truly eaten, then. We'd best be cautious.

I never mind the gnoll customers as much as the rest.

Take it to that merchant there. He's a kobold, you know. For a rayseed he'll stitch it closed better than the flyson who made it.

...yes, down by the Sufa Madraba - below Darb and Naranj.

...the slavers from Ustaz? I'm not certain they should be allowed until evening.

A true deva? Not here, certainly.

You idiot! You brought back a peri! Get it away from us!

A Shadowy Conference In Agni

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From the annals of scribe Al Alu, archon serving most holy Jayyamaha

The trio of lords sat, with the greatest at the head of the mat. Caliph Sauyyid took the left seat, and Tyrant Akshaya was permitted to join at the right.

My lord Jayyamaha, the sacred and great, proposed a sortie by a fast fleet joined from the forces of all three lords. This fleet would enter the southern sea, where the waters run fierce with red, bronze & gold.

Akshaya agreed, but the Tyrant wished to lead the fleet personally. Understandably, my great and radiant master could not permit the devil lord to captain our cause. Thankfully, the djinni Caliph, seeing the marvellous wisdom of my lord, volunteered a mariner in his service, one drawn from the bright world.

The fleet was of the utmost necessity, however, as our cities faced the common enemy -

Record ends.

Excerpt From the Quest for the Ring of Bones

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Imam Efar, I am, and I write this forty-fourth day of our quest to find the ring of bringing life to the deceased. Loremaster of the City of Bridges, I cross over boundaries to link truths. This writing I prepare as is decreed by Those Who Join The Ways.

On this our four and fortieth morn, the sun, Johoum as our southern companion called it, was especially cruel. Still far from the Satha Laylanuha, our caravan numbered now twelve, as the bearded one had left us in Qulzai, and our maned companion lay dead in the Narrow River.

We pressed forward under the leadership of the self-styled Emir, who went shirtless and shoeless in the fierce heat. No longer under disguise, his skin and blazing eyes told him to be efreeti-born. I, of course, am familiar, as my mother's second husband (now dead to a curse of wrath) was himself fathered by a djinn, and my sister of mother's blood shares that heritage. But I wander...

Our alchemist, a sallow, terrifying man who wore his hood up at all times, did not seem bothered by the heat. It was believed that he, the Emir and the kobold shaman Araz had scheduled the original caravan. Brothers Joined, I toil still to bring this document to our annals, but the veracity has not been confirmed of yet.

In a dust bowl littered with harpy fallen, we met the master of the trail, a clay-colored lizardwoman of flaked scales and brown eyes. She sat with two earth diviners, who spoke to the stone below and paid us no heed.

I rendered our discoveries unto the Emir, who negotiatied with the master. It was told to him that indeed we had reached our goal, midway between Blood Rock and Stabbing Rock. Now, their speakers would open our path.

A great shaking was called by the diviners, and the tremor revealed a new ground below, verdant, but laced with a blood crimson. The sky itself seemed to give way to a pristine darkness, and the smell of ash rose to greet us.

The door to Najmah had been propped open for us. Sirngaveram awaited.

Notes From the Records of Calal the Fortuitous

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(Note: some passages have been damaged by various dyes, chemicals and other substances)

It is in my fourth year as a master of the Craft that I have finally succeeded in transmuting base tin into splendid gold, using a - food stains obscure text - and buttermilk. Now, if only I could remember how; perhaps with more work, I shall be able to replicate my success!

It is now my fifth year practicing the great Craft, and I have created a univ - this page as well as several others through the back of the manuscript has a large hole burned through it, as though by a caustic fluid - hand. On the bright side, I now have a new idea for a tincture to heal my injuries.

Testimony of Ashrah the Earthbound

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...ultimately, I slew my mother. It was a cold-blooded act, to be sure, but I didn't care then and I care less now. Father was still alive, and I managed to smuggle him past that harlot's phantoms to a lizard shanty, where I expect they took good care of him.

- Describe the battle with your mother.

Mother was a terror - I couldn't pin her down, try though I might, for she was wreathed in a blinding fog and in the shapes of man and beast. This scar, here, came from her bared claws. Wicked wound, that.

She was fearsome, my mother. An unearthly blackness seemed to follow her about, and creatures of phantom darkness came to her aid, snatching at me uselessly. Myself, I employed a relic sword from the old empire, and though a few strikes glanced off of the wicked matriarch, most of my hits told, and dearly.

- Open combat, then. So she knew it was you she fought?

I don't think she even cared. If anything, it probably just fed her bloodlust. My mother was freakish and horrific.

That said, in her last moments, I looked into her feral eyes and saw a glimmer of... not understanding, since she would never stoop to interpreting the actions of a lesser creature, but maybe... acceptance. Relief.

Racist Joke

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A lizardman, a furman and a half-djinn are shopping in the bazaar. Each of them is looking for the perfect gift for his mother.

The lizardman chooses a fine glass ewer with a porcelain base, to hold cool water. The furman and the half-djinn nod their heads.

The gnoll chooses a fine dreadwood chest, banded with red steel. The lizard and the half-djinn nod their heads.

Now the half-djinn looks all day, through piles of exotic fruits, jewels and precious art, then at last chooses a dented tin snuff-pot. His companions can't figure out why he would buy such junk for his mother.

"What do you mean, junk? We've been looking for Father for the past five years!"

The Devotion of Skartoth

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It was in the first century of Babalarud, before it was the City of Gates. Now at this time, the city was small and without walls, and its warriors had gone south to the Sufa Madraba.

The city was under the protection of Johoum, and his temple held a lone, mad hermit pledged to the fierce, punishing sun god. When warriors from the west came, they sought to sack the city and deliver it from Johoum to the worship of their blood goddess.

The goddess' warriors approached as one, twenty men and four priests, astride steppe-bred horses of Yan. As they came to the first of the adobes, delivering the message of the blood goddess, the disciple of Johoum stepped forth.

The first rider came fast - and was blown away with a swish of the hermit's morningstar. Two more came forward, screaming a fierce battle cry - and fell screaming to deft blows.

Then Johoum's priest started his stride of slaying, and the cruel flames of his lord whipped the onrushing warriors and scoured the flesh from their bones. The priests of the blood goddess grasped at him with hands of flensing blight, only to be torn apart by the rending spikes of Johoum's fist.

Finally, only the archpriest remained, and he summoned the wrathful blood of his dead slaves to wake them from the Judgment to take vengeance. But the authority of dread Johoum went with his servant, and as the morningstar struck, the archpriest died instantly.

In less than two minutes, it was done. The blood goddess faltered and fled the West, and from the iron of the foemen's weapons did Johoum raise the first gates of Babalarud.

The Sage's Story

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Rasal Alfoz walked down the Way of Figs, enjoying the little clouds of dust left by his shuffling feet and tail. His old scales, a lively lime at birth, were now dun, cracked and sparse.

A waterkeeper called good morning to him, and an eggwatcher, and a passign hunter. Children came out to greet him, and by the time he reached the fountain wall the aggregate mass of hatchlings, yearlings and youths climbing on his legs and shoulders forced him to sit for a story.

As he weaved his tale, passers-by paused to listen, with questions on their tongues. Rasal Alfoz spoke through his characters, instructing his neighbors on their needs without disturbing the children.

At last, the tale ended, and a lizardwoman came around the corner to lead the children away. Rasal Alfoz glanced at her, looked into her eyes, then suddenly sprung forth.

Casting off his old, drab robe to reveal well-worn leathers, the sage struck out at the lizardwoman with his staff once, twice, thrice. Her scales crumbled under his blows, revealing dead black flesh. She tried clawing at the children, but could not strike even close to Rasal Alfoz.

At last, one final blow sent her crashing into a nearby adobe, where her scales shed and her form bent, revealing a terrible creature beneath. Rasal Alfoz sent the children to gather priests and priest-warriors to cleanse the beast's taint, then continued along.

Excerpted from the Kiss of the Pahari

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We had not believed in the marid until we stood in his court. Now, dazzled by the court of the Northern Shah, we were borne below by his invisible agents, given breath through the grace of Limalia.

Through the darkness we could see the iridescent forms of the swimming pahari. Concealed still by the banks of hard, plantlike clay, we waited for our magician to wrap us in a sorcerous veil.

Ahead in the center of the pahari city, we saw the palace of the Western Shah. The shining light radiating from the tunnels we knew to be the fabulous pearl we sought: the Kiss of the Pahari. However, we feared the warriors of the Shah, who we were warned bowed to the leadership of his son, a mortal man. As well, we could not speak with and did not trust the bearers sent by the North.

The greedy light in the sorcerer's eyes worried me, for I feared that he was desirous of the Kiss himself. Legend said that it was a jewel of magical power, perhaps even the home of the Padishah himself!

The Witch of Zanzalar

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The people of Zanzalar had never encountered so much as a genasi's hair, for all of their superstition. Their youths would travel to one of the larger towns and come back with tales of great beasts that walked through wide rivers, blazing genies on the backs of striped lions and enchanted jewels that danced about the heads of blue-skinned sorcerers.

I knew better. I had met the son of a dao once, and knew the feel of the extranatural. I had fought in Turzech againt the vulture-women and seen the trail of a sandworm. I knew that there were real monsters in the world.

When the youths of Zanzalar began to sicken, the people were quick to blame their misadventures in the foolish cities of the scaled folk. One woman berated a local village girl as a sorceress, claiming she had cursed her boy. Though certainly reasonable, one jilted lover could not have caused the sickening of seven young men.

The rumor caught, though, and soon the town was up in arms over an unidentified "witch." I took a night watch, and kept count of the folk going back to their homes.

I saw it then; a tall creature, dark in figure. It was not one of us; my count was flawless and this was one more. I followed it as it stalked among the huts, keeping a safe distance.

Suddenly it vanished, leaving no trace of movement. I ran to where the thing had stood and looked around frantically. There - through a window! I had no time to guess how. I jumped through and brandished my sword against the creature, now with wings spread, loomed over a sleeping youth. I could see its soft mouth draw up in a smile, and was suddenly drawn in a fit to leave it be, to relax and go about my business. This mood passed quickly, however, and I struck swiftly with my saber.

The blade skidded against the dark thing and left not a trace of a wound. It hissed at me and knocked me to the floor with a vicious blow, then was gone.

To this day I know not what the witch was, only that it is something to be feared and not seen again. The people of Zanzalar have a different opinion, since now they are the ones with a story of the fantastic.

The Child of Paradise

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In our village, we have strict traditions about the lake. Other villages believe differently, but our rules stand firm. We are proud of them.

This I am taught, as a woman-child of water: that my mother, a daughter of the pearl, went to the lake on the night the moon was born while she awaited me, and my brother, and her man-child. So all women, daughters of the pearl or daughters of water or the dusty-skinned, go to the lake when they await the child in their womb.

This I am taught, as a child of the dancing blood: that I go to the lake when the moon bathes, when I am here of a decade, when I am here as a woman new, when I join my family to that of a worthy man, when I have children of my own - as when I was here of but one wet season. So too all.

This I am taught, as an ignorant child: that when the moon is born, it is the egg of Paradise, and Paradise sees it go, and that Paradise is a woman, who wishes for love, and strength, and growth, and her child. So for all, women or men, whether of the singing blood or the dancing blood or the blood that spills in the dust and cracks.

This I am taught, as witness from infancy who waits anew: that when the moon bathes, it ripens and parts, and births the life of Paradise: the birds of the radiant flame, the winged starlight that cavorts and sings, the feathered dancer that never rests upon the ground. Star-spun devas, with bridal coil, and the dreams of our greatsires, astride conquests most terrible to behold.

This I am taught, and this only as an heir of the old empires, the true empires: that the life of Paradise lives beyond the lake, and that we may visit, and see the bridesday of the deva, speak with the dreams of our grandsires.

I am a woman-child of water, born of a daughter of the pearl, and I shall one day swim to Paradise, following the bathing moon.

This I am taught.

The Scribe’s Journal

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It was supposed to be a simple trading assignment, something to fatten the satchels of Aldurba, the merchant prince who commissioned this trip. It was supposed to be simple, boring, & profitable. We were supposed to survive.

We were barely 50 miles out from Zurqim, our starting point, when a mule broke its leg. The three clerics could not agree on whether to pray to Limalia, Umaj, or Adimas for a safe journey. I couldn’t care less which god they begged to, for I believed in none of them. The only thing I believed in was the fact that the mule had broken its left hind leg, & that was an ill omen for the whole caravan.

Sure enough, not a week later, a dust storm swept over us just after we left Dajajah. Sand storms are not supposed to be this strong so near to the coast, so its intensity caught us off-guard. The alchemist & his son were whisked away while trying to tie down their wares, & the alchemist’s wife screamed a vile curse at us before running into the tempest. We never saw any of them again.

The very next night, the dervish’s second wife was slaughtered by an almasti. It was I who found her empty body, & I still cannot speak of it. The dervish left to avenge his young wife & unborn child. He was gone for so long that we assumed he had been lost as well, but he caught up with us at the city of Mamluk. He claimed that he was victorious, & he had an almasti’s head with him, but he must have traded it for an eye & a hand. His victory was hard-won indeed.

After Mamluk, we were hit by another sandstorm, which drove us off-course, deeper into the Sahra Basit, the Arid Plains. We lost more water than we planned, as well as our best guide, for he was killed by a pair o–

NOTE: This portion of the journal is illegible, as the next several pages are torn to shreds.

I don’t know how we made it to Raqam. Nine men & four women have been lost, out of an original 45 caravan members. The merchants are determined to go on, despite the many misfortunes. I told them that I was not going to continue to Nahraldikh, our ultimate destination. The Red Sands are between us & Nahraldikh, & I doubt we will make it through the Ral Zadi alive. The merchants implored me to stay, & they offered to double my travel fee. I fear that I may have been a fool to agree.

Shortly after we set out from Raqam, another guide was killed. He was attempting to negotiate with the Camelotaurs, when he somehow offended them & was hit by several arrows. We think that he may have angered them by drinking from his water flask without offering them any, but we cannot be sure. Negotiations did not continue & we moved on swiftly.

NOTE: This portion of the journal is illegible, as the next page is missing.

The caravan is in disarray. The merchant prince is dead, & his fellow merchants are mad with fear & despair. Our remaining guides have left us, claiming that the caravan is cursed. We are low on food, our water is nearly gone, our last cleric killed himself, & the merchants wail about their profit margins. They are fools, & I wish them ill.

If we make it to Rizaj, I will leave this caravan. I no longer care how much they promise to pay me. A sultan’s treasures could not persuade me to –

NOTE: This portion of the journal is illegible, as the next couple of pages are stained darkly.

The ghuls said that they would return for the rest of us. There are only five of us left, after their last slaughter. I cannot hope to escape their wrath with my leg twisted & broken as it is. My death will be upon me soon, with red eyes & long teeth.

The others blame the alchemist’s wife for cursing us, but I know the real reason for our bad luck. I should have read the signs better, & heeded them. A wiser man would have seen the mule’s broken leg as the portent of doom that it was. It was the beast’s left hind leg, after all. I should have turned back to Zurqim then & there.

I shall miss my wife, & my daughters as well. I love them, & hope that they may forgive some day for not returning to them.

I hear the ghuls. They have returned. I know that I will not be –

NOTE: The journal ends there. This book was found on top of a dune, tattered & worn, 20 miles west of Rizaj. No other items were found near the book, & no tracks led to or from the spot where it was recovered. Marqud the Scribe did not date his journal, so it is not certain when this ill-fate journey took place, but caravans have not come to Nahraldikh from as far as Zurqim in many years.

A New Moon, Part 1

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I had finished my chores at the bakery, & had just changed out of my work clothes, when Ghalib stopped by the shop.

“What brings you this way?” I asked, genuinely curious. His father’s shop was on the other side of the bazaar.

“I have two extra tokens for tonight’s court,” he said with a grin.

“How did you get so many?” His family did not have enough money or influence to spend on so many court tokens.

“You know that new sub-minister? The scaley? Well, the sub-minister was dolling them out, & he dropped his bag. The vouchers went everywhere. I snagged a handful in the confusion,” he said smugly, his eyes wild in triumph. That sub-minister could be whipped for such carelessness, unless he can cover up his mistake. “I gave one to Alabi, & another to Qaj, so I thought you could use one, as well.”

“Well, thank you,” I said, taking the pair of round coin-like tokens. “But why two?”

“Well, I saw you & Jalil talking, so I thought…” he trailed off, still smiling.

My face felt hot. Ghalib was older than me by a year, & he was annoyingly perceptive. Jalil has indeed been hanging around the bakery, so we had talked a few times when I wasn’t busy kneading dough. She was pretty, & she said she didn’t mind the pervasive scent of yeast, so we got along rather well.

“Oh, uh, thank you again,” I said quickly, not looking at him directly. “I don’t think she’s ever been to court before.”

“Sabah’s never been, either. That’s why I’m doing her the favor of accompanying me,” he said with the wink of a conspirator. “Well I must go, for there is much to do before tonight. I hope to see you there. Bye!”

Ghalib turned & left, singing to himself. I was sure that he was quite pleased with his manipulations, his scheming to change the lives of others & garner favors along the way. I guessed that poor foolish Sabah would not stand a chance against his charms.

I hurried upstairs to change again. My drab tunic won’t impress anyone at court, & I would have to find Jalil before her sisters made plans for her that she could not escape. Tonight promised to be interesting. The night of a new moon was always worthy of note.

From the journal of Khart Rajiind, Banker.

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I was going about my business as usual at the bank. I had just come from an argument with my parents the previous night. They had been fighting with me once again about my choice of profession. My people see no need for bankers. Their lack of organization often disheartens me.

Their squabble with me did not dishearten me as much as the events of this day, however. I had just finished counting the gold pieces of our great and wonderful pharaoh when the most unexpected event happened. A man, clad in gaudy clothing and wearing a foppish hat, walked into the bank. But he did not use the door. He walked in through the wall! I was immediately terrified. He asked my superior Amadj where the vault containing the money I had just so painstakingly counted was located. When the kobold refused to give him the information, a rapier materialized out of the sand on the floor by the door. It flew through the air and struck Amadj down in one fell swoop. It disintegrated back into a pile of sand.

The man reiterated his query to the staff at large. The two bullyblades we hired to protect the bank charged the man. He met their assault head on, rapiers materializing in each of his hands out of the sand around him. He parried the first man’s sword, then turned around him and used him as a shield to stop the seeking blade of the aazlai. The large man attacked him viciously and his aazlai companion moved around behind into a flanking position. The man struck the thief’s sword, which fell apart into nothing. Whooping in triumph, he struck again… only to find that he had impaled himself on a newly materialized dagger. The aazlai took the opportunity to drive his blade into the thief’s back. And caught nothing but sand. The man had dissolved into a pile of sand!

He soon reassembled himself behind the confused warrior and stabbed him viciously in the back. Dervishes from the local temple of Johoum arrived, noticing the catastrophe at hand. They drew their scimitars menacingly. And were promptly blasted to bits by a fireball launched from a wand the outlaw had magically procured.

“Where can I find the vault?” he asked once more, allowing his weapons to simply fall apart in his hands, thus cleaning them of blood. We all simultaneously pointed him in the right direction. As he headed down the hall I followed. And by the time I had arrived at the safe and opened it, he was gone… as were the twenty thousand, two-hundred and fifty three gold pieces I had so painstakingly counted.

Hero of the Serpent-Slaves

Spoiler

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They were going to sacrifice my father. And my mother. And even my little sister. The asp-men had come in the middle of the night, and stolen then all away. Only I was left in the home, but I followed them out into the night. I came to their vile temple, full of the malignant power of their vile false god. If only Pashati could hear my prayers then. I was full of fear. Fear that I would be caught, fear for my family.

Until suddenly, everything changed. My father had been on the altar one moment, an asp-man’s sacrificial dagger raised in preparation, when the ground erupted. The altar was blown to bits and pieces, and a flying rock caught my air-borne father and laid him gently on the ground.

The asp-men swerved in unison, with a fluidity and synchronization that belied their evil souls. Before them stood a kobold. One of the smallest, weakest looking kobolds I had ever seen in my life. There were many kobolds in the cities enslaved by the asp-men, like ours, but never had I seen one so small.

The snakes hissed, which I guessed was their equivalent of mirth. They shot out like arrows from crossbows, speeding towards their new target. Until a sharp spear of stone erupted from the ground, impaling the front most one. The kobold began incanting, drawing a pair of wands covered in Archaic markings. With words of power laced with magic, the kobold shook the very foundations of the temple. The rocks around him came to life, suddenly sharp as shale, ad sped towards the evildoers, slicing into them easily. The high-priest of the false god stood alone then, his cultists vanquished.

I felt heavier, of a sudden. The kobold continued his chanting and dancing as fast as ever, but the high priest was slowed almost to halt. Then my hero shouted one last word, and the world went blank…

I awoke next to my family in a bright and comfortable home. Our wounds, minor and major, were being tended to by lizardfolk. I inquired in a small voice about the kobold I had seen. But none of our attendees knew who or what I was talking about…

Unsettling History Lesson

[Llama231]

First post!

So, anyway, those pictures look strange...
The first two seem to have gems.
Third looks Egyptian.
No idea about four five, and six.
Seven looks like a flat world connected to something.
Eight looks like the two dimensions or alignment thing.
Nine looks like Donkey Kong's head, but orange.
And ten looks like a mood crescent necklace.

[afroakuma]

...no, I think you'll find that I had the first post.

And don't be juvenile.

[Llama231]

...no, I think you'll find that I had the first post.

And don't be juvenile.

Fixed that, and are you willing to tell us anything about these?

[afroakuma]

Oh come on, I left ten mysterious symbols up there and nobody's curious?

[Llama231]

Oh come on, I left ten mysterious symbols up there and nobody's curious?

I yam!
How close is my first post?
The Zihaja Thesis?

[afroakuma]

The first two seem to have gems.

Wrong on both.

Third looks Egyptian.

*shrug*

Seven looks like a flat world connected to something.

Nope.

Eight looks like the two dimensions or alignment thing.

Closest yet.

Nine looks like Donkey Kong's head, but orange.

I'm really not seeing Donkey Kong.

And ten looks like a mood crescent necklace.

It is a necklace or bracelet, yes.

[Juhn]

Ah, I see my favourite lore post is up there.

"And we said, we call it Johoum".

[afroakuma]

I thought your fave was "We've been looking for Father for the past five years!"

[Llama231]

#9, the yellow dot is an eye.
The Zihaja Thesis? la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
The Zihaja Thesis? la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
The Zihaja Thesis? la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo

[afroakuma]

Yes, the yellow dot is an eye.

...why do you keep shouting "the Zihaja Thesis" at me?

[Llama231]

Yes, the yellow dot is an eye.

...why do you keep shouting "the Zihaja Thesis" at me?

It that a head, or a full body?
What is the Zihaja Thesis?
la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo

[afroakuma]

That would be a head.

What do you think the Zihaja Thesis is?

[Llama231]

That would be a head.
la li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lola li lu le lo la li lu le lo la li lu le lo
What do you think the Zihaja Thesis is?

Is it a monkey head?

An essay in Zihaja?

[Juhn]

I thought your fave was "We've been looking for Father for the past five years!"

Heh, that one was funny.

But that first lore post was just powerful. It got me absolutely psyched for this project (I'd still been a little wary over the city-state thing before that).

I am going to lament the loss of the large amount of Lizardfolk information, as well as my character concepts (incongruous though they were.)

I'm curious, what are some other aspects of Zihaja? We know that he took Johoum's place, but that's only one aspect (and we also know that "Zihaja" is not one, because nobody knows he exists. He's a scientific theory as far as Siraaj and Namjah are concerned, and even then he's only that to a few).

[Mr.Bookworm]

You used a slightly modified version of the three colored triangles one in answer to this:

Are there any areas of gray morality, or is it black and white?

Hmm...

[Reverent-One]

Well the top left corner one looks like a representation of an oasis/fountain/water, and the one Llama said looks like Donkey Kong I'd guess is a lion's head.

[Juhn]

Four looks a heck of a lot like a compass to me...

Wait, is it one of those sundial things?

Also afroakuma, you and your threads are terrible for my study habits.

[afroakuma]

Heh, that one was funny.

I know. I feel so bad for reading it...but then I remember: you can't have fantastic racism without "fantastic!"

But that first lore post was just powerful. It got me absolutely psyched for this project (I'd still been a little wary over the city-state thing before that).

Thank you. I'd hoped it would be.

I am going to lament the loss of the large amount of Lizardfolk information, as well as my character concepts (incongruous though they were.)

Dig it up, I'll post it.

I'm curious, what are some other aspects of Zihaja?

We know that he took Johoum's place

You know, I bet if you quoted my post and checked the names of those images...

He's a scientific theory as far as Siraaj and Namjah are concerned, and even then he's only that to a few.

Religious theory, I'd say.

[LordZarth]

http://s447.photobucket.com/albums/qq194/afroakuma/

Herez.

[Juhn]

Oh. Duh. So #4 is not a sundial, it's Johoum's symbol. Well, at least I got the "sun" part right

Also, I note upon reading my last post that typing "sundial things" comes off less as "one of those fangled timekeeping devices" (which was my intention) and more as "I don't know what a sundial is" (which is untrue).

[Thane of Fife]

and the one Llama said looks like Donkey Kong I'd guess is a lion's head.

My guess would be a gnoll's head, personally.




And I'm fairly certain that the one in the middle of the bottom row should actually be in the top left corner.

[Juhn]

I note that the idea that all the gods are just various aspects of the greater Zihaja is very similar to a school of thought in Hinduism.

[afroakuma]

My guess would be a gnoll's head, personally.

No, it's a lion's head. Sorry.

And I'm fairly certain that the one in the middle of the bottom row should actually be in the top left corner.

I don't follow.

[Juhn]

Obviously the closest thing to Zihaja's true form that can be conceived by the citizens of Siraaj and Najmah is a triangle.

Also, do we have a name to use when talking about both planes?

[Reverent-One]

No, it's a lion's head. Sorry.

And my oasis/fountain/water guess?

[afroakuma]

Obviously the closest thing to Zihaja's true form that can be conceived by the citizens of Siraaj and Najmah is a triangle.

Not likely.

Also, do we have a name to use when talking about both planes?

That we do not. I'll get on that.

And my oasis/fountain/water guess?

Was utterly incorrect.

[Juhn]

For posterity, the aspects, in order:

1. Waharim
2. Pahati
3. Adimas
4. Johoum
5. Sidaru
6. Umaj
7. Limalia
8. Daq
9. Qirus
10. Maqur

[afroakuma]

For posterity, the aspects, in order:

1. Waharim
2. Pashati
3. Adimas
4. Johoum
5. Sidaru
6. Umaj
7. Limalia
8. Daq
9. Qirus
10. Maqur

Filename error.

[Juhn]

...You just had to link that youtube video, didn't you?

So is Zihaja the little girl, or the Qidam?

Also, where is the initial teaser? That rhyme was apparently important.