Completed Path

[White Swallow]

(OOC: mediators/unaffiliated have the freedom to walk everywhere without getting attacked, including the inside of the temple and converse with anyone, whether they're named or not)



Two forces stood at opposing ends.
On one end, atop the rolling dune, Amir Danush Ibn Shiys stood at the helm of his painted troops.
Orange, yellow and sky blue were their colours, patterned in diamonds and triangles. All gathered under the banners that flew three brown mountains and a blue horse on a yellow field.
They fluttered in the wind as the army stood perfectly still.

On the other end was a temple that had seen much hardship, rising high and proud with its pinkish-tan facade, battered and ruined.
Chants came from within its walls, yet in front of its door, there were no Sahiyi mystics, but soldiers.
Twenty men on swift horses, each one of them with a spear in hand. They were no brigands, no. They were the men of the Sayyiduna, the men of the Sahiyi Henremdi State.

~*~
​

»And they will not move?« murmured Amir Danush, turning his head towards his general that had just arrived at his side.
The man shook his head, »the zealots will not move.«
»And the mediators?«
»They have not come to any conclusion.«

The Amir's sharp gaze turned towards the no man's land which divided the anxious forces. He would have charged hours ago if many mediators between them had not taken to stalling the battle indefinitely. Some of them were officials from other towns, each with their own agenda and motives, while others were simply peacekeepers.
The field they took over was covered in statues and gravestones. Memorials to the saints and martyrs that had died in a slaughter many years ago at this very place.
Odd scrolls and jars were littered among them, perhaps even holding forgotten secrets.


»Khaleel, Khaleel, my friend!« Nadim ibn Adil rode in front of the White Swallow, who stood at the helm of the opposition. Behind him came fifteen reinforcements, all flying his banner of two gold stars and arrows on red. »So the son of Shiys has not moved yet, many will join his cause, I think many already have. What for?«
»It's about the principle, Nadim. It's no longer about destroying us, but the very symbol that keeps defying them. « The White Swallow briefly glanced at the temple behind him. It survived so many hardships, so many times has blood been spilled on its tiled floors.
Yet still, the priests within kept on praying, not concerned with their certain death, should Amir Danush break through.

 

[Medja]

An enigmatic figure hovered silently across the top of the dune, a contingent of imperial soldiers at her back. Gerra had sent her halfway across the entire desert to deal with some sort of diplomatic stalemate. She had wondered why he cared at the time, citing that these folk were not even imperial citizens and therefore irrelevant to the empire's affairs. The God-King had retorted that resolving the ordeal peacefully might aid in bringing both factions under the empire's rule.

The court sorceress of course wondered why Gerra did not simply crush both sides underfoot as he had her own fair Ragash, but had decided not to contradict him out loud. She preferred not to be at the mercy of the half-giant's rage. So here she was, in this gods-forsaken corner of the region among a bunch of humorless soldiers. She lazily lifted a hand to her retinue, signalling them to stop.
"If I need you I will call for you, but do not expect to leave this ridge. The last thing I want is the locals getting antsy because a squad of imperial Immortals decided to 'intervene.'"

The men stopped at her behest, silent and faceless behind their metal masks. Medja sighed and continued on her way towards the Amir's forces. With her usual grace, charm, and a bit of luck, hopefully the God-Emperor's Hands could resolve this nonsensical standstill in short order. She was stopped by one of his soldiers on her way, of course, but a bit of confident stating of titles and purpose found her quickly in person with the Amir himself. She had decided to be professional yet authoritative, despite her current lack of patience.
"Amir Danush, I presume? I am Medja of Ragash, servant and envoy of the God-Emperor of Amol-Kalit. I have been sent to provide what diplomatic aid I can in this endeavor. So, please..." Floating a good two feet off the ground, Medja squinted down at the man, exuding her usual air of superiority. "Do tell me what exactly this dispute is about."

 

[White Swallow]

The last of the men stepped aside as Medja made her way towards the mounted Amir.
The sovereign of Jaleyaana was a proud man of dark ashen hair. His beard was well-groomed and his clothes colourful.
»Sir,« spoke the commander behind him, but he retreated when the Amir rose his right hand.
»It is. A pleasure... to meet you, Medja of Ragash,« his voice trailed on, not impressed over the presence of the Empire here or the oh-so-pompous title he held. To his eyes, another person enthralled by greed over the tasty morsel of this dispute or his land.
»We are merely meaning to exterminate religious zealots. You are acquainted with the lesser god Hushur - Kalik? You must be. We mean to destroy their temple and eradicate them.«

 

[Medja]

Medja looked down her nose at the man, scowling in annoyance. His lack of respect was palpable. Could he not see that this was a great blessing from the God-Emperor that he should spare the time and talent of his own Hands to deal with this petty squabble? A religious squabble, no less. How droll.

"The silent god, yes I am familiar. Said by its worshipers to be the progenitor of the world. I am also familiar with the fact that all three of the known denominations of the Hushurite faith are so scarce that they might as well be invisible." Medja raised a hand in front of her and allowed her wraps to unravel, exposing the soft skin beneath. The woman casually examined her long, neatly trimmed nails as she spoke to the local warlord. "What I do not understand, good Amir, is why you seek to exterminate these ants. Surely this is a waste of your time and resources?"

Medja's eyes suddenly snapped up from her nails to stare Danush down, her gaze piercing.
"Or is there a reason besides simply being here that these 'zealots' have done to slight you?"

 

[White Swallow]

Danush caressed his beard, slyly smiling. »Of course, they no longer believe in the rightful gods. In fact, they proclaim Hushur to be chief of all gods! What insolence. Hushur does not speak to his priests, he is weak, he is DEAD.«
His eyes scanned Medja from head to toe, truly a courtly mage of the opulent west.
»And what waste is time that we allocate to praising all-mighty Annuk, king and conquerer! I, my priests can hear him clearly in the wind.« Went on the Amir as he gazed back at the temple. »I want it razed to the ground. Today.«

 

[Medja]

Medja clicked her tongue audibly. This was exactly as petty as she imagined. They weren't even informed. Clearly this Danush was an ignorant warmonger and little else.
"I do not see what crime there is in worshiping one of the Annunaki. Hushur is one of the Hundreds alongside so many others. To laud him as chief is strange, yes, but hardly worth exterminating them over."

The courtier glowered at the man. To behave so smugly in the presence of one of the God-Emperor's court. She allowed her bandages to cover her hand once more. Something told her that sense was not something that could easily talk into the Amir. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"If these followers of Hushur have not been bothering anyone, then they clearly do not deserve the death and destruction you bring, Amir. If you covet their land then perhaps a compromise can be reached."

 

[White Swallow]

Of course, these outlanders knew not of their struggles. All their beliefs in unity, but here where many faiths collided, the struggle was born of this reason too. - Amir Danush was about to boil and burst at his seams when a lightfooted palomino came trotting by. Atop it sat a well-decorated woman of higher status, but her features were obscured. She tapped the lord on his shoulder and the rage seemed to dissipate off him, if only briefly. Perhaps her nature, perhaps a tinge of magic.
»My name is Dune, sister of Danush, daughter of the late Shiys. I am humbled to have your acquaintance.«
Dune bowed her head briefly before returning to the matter.
»Perhaps you may come to a fruitful conclusion, there are many a negotiator in the field that returned empty-handed, but I have faith you may speak some sense in the zealots and have them leave this place. Yet the wounds of my brothers have not been healed and they think not clearly.«
Though this sentiment seemed to be only shared with the woman.