amol-kalit

Some fucking festival. Why was it that, without fail, Rahma kept having to go under-fucking-ground? Lady Medja had been making some big moves as of late. After the last failed attempt at breaching the fathomless trench that was the Scar of Drakormir, the Smiter of Ragash had decided to take...

The Sand Gate was much the same as when she had left. Riding in just before dawn, the First Blade's return was met with silence. The men on duty seemed surprised to see her and her warriors. Disappointed, even. Seluca was healing, slowly but surely, thanks in no small part to the efforts of the...

Lilette stood before the old fortress ruins with the feintest rays of morning sunrise casting a red hue over the distant dunes between Maraan and Ragash. The cover of black steel and long shadows would protect her from the sunlight awhile longer, though a feeling of urgency overtook her as the...

The last vestiges of red-tinged sunlight crawled across the rooftops much like the afternoon shadows had hours before. Most of those shadows had since overtaken the city high up where torchlight could no longer reach, leaving the birds to nest and the smaller bats to replace their chirps with...

Sitting in the waiting room to another woman's seat of power was such an uncanny experience for the young elf. One would think that her origins might prepare her for this moment, but perhaps her time living among the common folk had diluted whatever experience she may have garnered as a child...

Across the rugged and rocky badlands, north of the Baal-Duru River, they walked. Their reward awaited them in Annuakat. "I'm actually new at this myself," said Ashara Yonnel admitted, demurely rubbing the back of her neck as they went. Maxi just smiled. Looked back to her and said, "Ahhh...

Rumors spoke of a merchant, a special merchant, traveling the roads of Amol-Kalit. A merchant who could obtain items of a more mystical nature. A merchant who was not welcome under respected roofs and dignified streets. One that meeting with in public could tarnish the reputation of even the...

The Word-Weathered: Nobleman - Financier - Sorcerer

Amol-Kalit Oakwood Trading Co. caravan Early evening The sun overhead was a brutal and cruel mistress in Amol-Kalit. It vacillated between methods of inflicting injurious harm which each rising and setting; a purposeful heat or a negligent cold, either could kill. Seretha missed it every time...

A thread really open for all, but likely of biggest interest to the Empire. Feel free to start at the village, or the temple, or anywhere that works! Village Dehno – West of Ragash The moon, Pneria, hung high in the night sky. Constellations abound could be observed with ease – the village...

The midday sun gleamed off amber dyed steel. The scorpion circled around to protect a pair of bees upon their shields and cloaks. Faces covered by the cloth and masks of their helms. The way their armor was layered and with spears held high one might think these soldiers the very beasts...

On the birth Travel to the Heart Turn left at the Fang's tip Ride until dawnbreak To the town of kāˌäs It was a cryptic message that had appeared written on the thin membranes of autumn leaves, embossed into the fragile tendons of snowflakes, whispered by the stars, and seared into dying...

https://i.imgur.com/wCEsQrS.pngAmol-Kalit Somewhere In the Desert The desert was unforgiving, unkind, and utterly brutal for someone who was not prepared for it. The sun alone was enough to kill most, and when one mixed in the lack of water and the vast dunes which seemed to shift and change...

The winter months were as good a time as any for Valkan to get out of his lair. More importantly, it needed to be spruced up a bit, and Ragash's reputation for fine textiles drew his attention. A wiry black draconian weaved through the crowd, towering over the humans, sand elves, and beastmen...

Akka-Yur. Jewel of the deep desert. Oasis city with endless mines. Akka-Yur was a myth. A fable. A place made up to trick the foolish to seek out impossible treasures within the ever shifting sands at the heart of the Amol-kalit desert. The founder an equally mythical figure: Hero King Naram...

She could see them... Those treacherous ladies puffing their chests and averting their gazes. With fans half unfurled and waving-oh-so tactfully. They signalled to each other messages in ways that were unheard of and not understood. This was the language of the courts. The language of...

For some these were exciting and uncertain times. Rumors ran rampant in instances such as these, after all. Some whispered of the Smiter's disappearance, of her retirement, her assassination. Others spoke of her ever burgeoning rise, of her treachery to the throne. Some spoke that in times such...

The bedouin canvas stretched high above the small arena in the ruins of the Forbidden City. While it may have cut back some on the harsh sun of Amol-Kalit, it did nothing to actually cool the air. And arena was a generous term. Just a large square patch with some rugs piled across the...

Jamira peeled the makeshift hijab from her face, the centuries-old curtain stiff and hard to breath through. The sand fell from it in cascades of faux-gold dust. A ruinous dowry for a bride of the deep desert. Like a figure of unearthly promise, she rose from the dune behind which she and her...

The many ancestors of Hesheb quietly flowed through the wetland. The reeds, which surrounded the permanent encampment, in this season, were so tall only the Anaphite could gaze beyond them. And even then, many were cut down for later use. Crafters were ready to make sandals, baskets and housing...