Fable - Ask Return to the Blacklands

[Princess Amun'Dzeer]

The low, copper light of the setting sun came through the tent flaps. Reclined, eyes heavy, the Pharaoh awaited word from her General, Aken'Iterulon. The pack had arrived in this river valley below the Seret, a river they spawned from high above, and ended in the deserts to the south west at an oasis. This place was serene, birds amid reeds and boats visible in the distance. The Gnolls, wearing patchwork armor, could be seen conversing with the Humans whose farms and fields were found along these banks. Many months of marching, pillaging, and scavenging had brought them here.

Now, however, there was peace. The human farmers were speaking openly and comfortably with the Gnolls. Exchanges, friendship, the things rarely seen of a marauding warband. Ordered by Amun'Dzeer: These humans, these farmers, they were to be assimilated into the Warband, and in turn, provide how best they could for the Gnolls. They could do what the Gnolls could not. Farm, Cultivate, and labor. What a Gnoll possessed in abundance was hamstrung by a natural inclination to simply avoid. The grand edifices that had once graced this place were worn away, canals flooded by silt, and no Gnoll possessed the follow-through to see it rebuilt. The menial work was below them.

Humans, though, they were content oft times with the humble and mediocre. They could work over time on the same thing, for years, and not simply throw up their hands in frustration. A perfect serf folk. Amun'Dzeer could envision cooperation between the two, growing stronger than just the one was capable of. This was why her General had been dispatched to offer an olive branch or an arrow to the numerous villages along the seven rivers of the Blackland. Each would make its decision, and the Gnolls would dwell here.

The Gnolls would finally stop wandering, and they would claim something of their own. Something that would never be lost again. The Pharaoh leaned back closing her eyes and shifting as the sun warmed her fur, reaching to grasp a quickly offered goblet; wine, though far from the finest. In time however, this valley would provide for her. All of its bounty, hers alone. In turn, she alone would provide for all those who would dwell here. Her subjects, Her people, and finally, Her home. Iterulon would be reborn in this northern-most mountain valley.

 

[Gahesznem]

The golden silk of wheat and barley glistened like the heavenly sea of the upper abode.
It's beauty and fertility both in reach and outside it. Gahesznem could already taste the bitter beer in her mouth.
Mmmm.
My lord.

Gahesznem bowed before the radiance herself, her Pharaoh and to be ruler of this land. Her soft outstretched hands led to her a platter of gold and copper inlay, on which goblets of wine and bowls of sliced watermelon were served.
She moved back yet still stood low with her back arched to the ground. »Oh your Highness, The harps have strung their last cord and the verdict of this land will soon be known. Oh blessed Imhothat,« Gahesznem's words rang sweet. »Lord of truth, bring us knowing.«

She placed the tray aside and stood up, her arms crossed together as her gaze wandered off into the distant valley.
The wind caressed the crops, wawing them like another kind of sea. Travelling all the way to the highland tent where it brushed against the silken gnoll fur.

 

[Ilhathix]

Ilhathix held no love for these humans. They were to bow to his Princess or meet his axe. Either one was fine with him.

"Do not dawdle. The Pharoah's daughter will see these projects built by the weeks end."

He and a few other warriors were carrying heavy amounts of woods with some of the humans. His groups purpose; to build. Build whatever they could and as much as possible. Be it a shop, be it several homes, any and all things for Her Majesty. The resurrection of the Blacklands would be now.

He had to hand it to these humans, as they had tools he had never seen before. Hammers meant for making, not destroying. Iron spikes that held pieces of a building together. While fascinating, Ilhathix saw it as only exploitable for the Pharoah's Daughter. They would have their home.

 

[Princess Amun'Dzeer]

Amun'Dzeer looked out over the bending reeds; the tent she was in looked lavish to most, but especially so to the Gnolls whom had chosen to follow her. Carpets taken from merchants crossing dunes, golden dishes and goblets gifted by lesser city-states for peace, exotic feather and bone ornaments. None of it crafted by Gnoll hands, something that Amun'Dzeer wished to change. Their lives of roving clans were coming to an end, and so long as the Matrons kept the Families in order, there wouldn't be anything to interrupt their conquest.

Conquest it was; that the Clans had been instructed to offer peace before simply taking what they needed only softened the blow. This land belonged to the Gnolls, and if anyone wished to dispute it, they would hear only the baying laughter of the Children of Basaph. Amun'Dzeer wasn't expecting a bloodless transition, she was expecting an easy one. It was unlikely that significant resistance would be made when the alternative was demonstrated.

Gahesznem spoke, proclaiming to the Gods for good fortune and tidings, standing and looking out in the distance with her Pharaoh. The reeds continued to dance, a few water foul taking wing as the tent rustled. The scent of cooking from the kitchen outside wafted spiced turtle and and duck about the room. With any luck, dinner would be ready soon. The quiet before the event however was getting boring, and Amun'Dzeer was a bit listless in this waiting game...

A figure was approaching in the distance; Aken'Itarulon, her Greatest of Matrons, was approaching. The hulking woman parted the flaps and strode in to the tent, the guards outside giving her a nod. She took a moment to adjust to the lower light, yet upon sighting Amun'Dzeer she sunk to her knees.

"Princess and Pharaoh," she said, looking down in respect, "I have completed the task set before me; The village towns have been offered a choice, and I will collect their replies over the next few days. Your will shall be done," she finished, looking up at the reclining Amun'Dzeer.

The Pharaoh smiled; this was good indeed. She slid her legs off the lounge, sitting up and bidding the towering woman to rise. "I am pleased with your progress," Amun'Dzeer said with a soft voice, "and I should enjoy you to dine with us tonight in celebration. Tomorrow, we shall begin to cross this valley and reclaim it."

Aken'Iterulon smiled, nodding, before bowing her head again, "As you say, Sun of the People," before rising, "Was there anything else, my Pharaoh?"

Amun'Dzeer looked over at her handmaiden, thinking, "Yes... I believe my Shield is away. Would you send a messenger to fetch him? I am certain the Fortress' construction can await his presence til tomorrow."

The Greatest of Matrons nodded her head, and left. Amun'Dzeer snickered, looking over at Gahesznem with a smile, "Oh my servant, I feel... so satisfied!" she declared, lolling her head back, "We've almost done it. There's things left to do, yes but... We're home, my Elk, Iterulon is finally ours again."

Amun'Dzeer couldn't contain her excitement any longer, even if her servants and closest handmaiden could see her like this, she didn't care. The home she had heard of in bedtime tales and seen wistful day-dreams was returned, something her mother and mother's mother had never had a chance to see. Something that they had built towards. This day, her conquest and her journey... It had all come to this, to here.

"It may take us some time, but..." she nodded in excitement, "our children will never know the hardships we have, Gahensznem. We're making a home for us all, and it's almost finished," Some small part, however, knew that the real work had only just begun. It was not the beginning of the end, rather perhaps, the end of the beginning.

 

[Gahesznem]

Gahesznem reached for her lyre, to pass the mood of this graceful time. Dusk was soon upon them, yet it seemed other times came first as the honoured Aken'Itarulon approached in all her might.

The mightiest among the matrons.
My heart knows it, and I trust in my peers, it happened as I was told.

» Your joy brings a tear to my cheek, « the Gnolless proclaimed.
» Oh Father Khotsed, let your young live together in harmony, so our children shall prosper for many generations to come.«
She approached closer to her Pristine Grace and Pharaoh, her Lyre raise to her being. Gahesznem's claws gently stroked the instrument to welcome the eve.

 

[Ilhathix]

Ilhathix watched as these humans constructed towers from this wood. Something lode and bearing, they stated. He tried his best to listen and learn as his Princess would want from him but the voices of the humans were shrill and insufferable to his ears. His patience was not what it used to be and this was only testing it.

"Hmph." Was the only retort he would offer to the workers. He gathered that 'nails' hold these wooden things in place. And that several together could form the walls of a structure. It was easy enough to grasp and it only angered him further that humans had this knowledge before the gnolls. Though he knew once they made this a common feat among his people their work would trump the humans in no time.

As he was wandering and watching intently, a familiar face arrived on scene.

"Ilhathix," The messenger spoke, kneeling in respect. "I bring word that your presence is to be with the Princess. You are not needed here until the mornings rise."

Ilhathix did not waste time. He turned to his group of warriors and beckoned for them all.

"Bireulnth, Hyicuus, you are to remain here and set camp. Keep watch over these sons of men and learn what you can. Document the information. It will be a few hours ride back to Pharoah Amun'Dzeer's side, ensure that all is well or endure my wrath."

His two subordinates nodded at his departure. The gaggle of warriors on oryxes and Ilhathix on his rhinoceros took their leave. He was eager to be by his highness's side yet again.

 

[Princess Amun'Dzeer]

Gahesznem's lute sang out, sharp notes ringing in a pleasant melody. AmunDzeer closed her eyes and reclined again, smiling at the attentive servant. She reached a hand out, letting one of her handmaidens pass her a goblet. She swirled it for a moment, before opening her eyes and taking a drink. While the taste was from the more fertile southern-east, all she could appreciate was how the merchants has been parted with it by force. Certainly, such Anirians had benefitted from the spoils of the less fortunate. It was only fair they pay the tax back to their victims.

Soon enough, however, her people would take things more valuable than wine and sweeter than revenge. She smiled wide, taking a second draw from the golden goblet, relishing that she and her people were taking back their future.

The music played lightly, the sun set, the wind blew cold. Birds grew quiet, the worgs began to howl, and the sounds of the feast being prepared were a raucus cacophany far away. AmunDzeer looked up as the tent was entered, a fairly menial camp guard sinking to his knees deferentially; "Oh Light of all our Peoples, the feast in honor of your greatness is prepared."

She rose, fondly looking at the man with a good mood. She nodded, and waved him away, letting Gahesznem handle any ceremony needed. She was getting hungry, and offered the man a touch upon his shoulder, soft and kind, before walking out. Torches shed heat and light, more the former than the latter, in long rows of well-lit roads. Ahead, speargnolls at attention with their halberds of gilded steel and armor scaveneged from many disparate Guard Knights from across the world.

A massive rug with neatly lain pillows of silk served as the dining hall. The stars above twinkled while the torches glowed around the perimeter. The Guards, her Royal Lances, all of them Charioteers and proven warriors of highest caliber, the kind that could meet the Royal Guard of any other Nation and not be found wanting. There were oh-so-few of them, however. Each was precious to her, and each was known by name.

AmunDzeer sat herself down on *her* pillow, with one at each side; her left side was always reserved for a guest of honor, while her right was Gahesznem's seat. Her favorite handmaiden shouldn't be far behind, and was always the second to taste the food, AmunDzeer being third before all others were permitted to dine. The Alphas of the Clans were seated as they came in, the Matrons sitting closer to her by right of strength. Some even pulled Alphas off their seats, though most showed a bit more decorum. AmunDzeer wasn't one to micromanage, and let the women sort it out amongst themselves.

Dinner would be soon, though AmunDzeer was beginning to wonder where her Shield was... he was usually more punctual, and she *had* wanted to hear his report as they chewed the bones. Besides... the way he growled was very pleasing to listen to.

 

[Gahesznem]

The intense smell from the cookery was hard to miss.
It was especially salivating, but even then, Gahesznem remembered telling the cook in the early morning to save the best parts for tomorrow. If the scent was so good today...
Mmm.
Gaheznem began to string a tune to honour the cook from afar and to the glory of the great father of the land on whos' body virile fertility gave to the land. As time bid, Gahesznem returned to her duties, setting her lute aside once more.


The many lesser striped servants began to embellish the tables in foods. It was no simple serving either. The striped yenas wore their hair neatly combed and thickly braided, embellished with pins and a white headband. First, to be paced was a stuffed gazelle surrounded by a pool of thick sauce. The animal was seemingly taking a bath in the sauce and looked almost lifelike. Its roasted skin was painted in dyes so all its stripes were as when it was alive. The rim of the plate was decked out in its skin and in the thick sauce floated wrinkled berries of the mountains.
Not long after, Gahesznem joined Amun'Dzeer by her side after her short discourse with some others of her class.

One by one, the main course was brought in. Sauced bones with olives. Most of the squabbling between the matrons died out by that point. Further down the ranks, they were served with a millet filler along with the bones instead.
What a delicacy.

 

[Ilhathix]

Ilhathix rode his rhino without a single look back. Not to the place he was, nor to his soldiers. They rode for hours without concern for anything but the return to Amun'Dzeer's side. Eventually, the camp came into view. Ilhathix's jaw unclenched, his shoulders relaxed.

He was home again. To see her again, no matter how long he'd been away, was always a miracle to the warrior. He had even began to miss the songs Gahesznem played. To think he'd start missing the faces of the servants. His heart was always soft for home, though he'd never tell anyone that outright.

The warrior dismounted and hitched his rhino. His troupe following suit, and hugging their wives and families. While he didn't look back, Ilhathix was glad his soldiers had this as well. Ilhathix came calmly into the tent, and walked before his beloved princess. He took a knee and a deep bow of his head;

"Pharoah princess Amun'Dzeer, there is nothing in this world as humbling as being in your presence."

 

[Princess Amun'Dzeer]

Amun'Dzeer looked over at Ilhathix, the rather prominent warrior punctual as ever, "I welcome you to my side, my champion," While her appetite was certainly encouraging her to dig in, she passed the dish of bones, tough jerky still about the bone even after stewing in olives and spices; "please sit. Dine with me, I would find your company most pleasant tonight."

She turned to Gahesznem next after Ilhathix had taken his seat and his bone, offering her handmaiden the second choice. With those seated besides her tasting first, she took her own choice and bit down hard on one end. The bone crackedcracked sharply, fissures revealing the marrow within. Bones took a while to eat, they made ready appetizers while the Antelope cooled to proper temperatures.

"Now, my Shield," Amun'Dzeer said, taking advantage of the lull to talk, or 'chew the bones', "Tell me; speak of where you came from. It has been a while since you joined us, but I cannot recall ever hearing of your clan."

Gnolls were spread wide across the world, with only the spine serving as a rough barrier to them. Clans were everywhere, in most places, usually in the lowest of the low and most remote of wilderness. That the Gnolls once dwelled in an upper kingdom removed from troubles only deepened the tragedy of their exile.

"I remember," Amun'Dzeer said, looking over Ilhathix, "that you were captured... yet I do not know from where this name comes."

The princess leaned back, looking over at her handmaiden for a moment. She always went about her tasks so daintily, it was almost cute watching her apply the utmost sophistication and prose to any act. There was, of course, proper etiquette when eating a bone. The Gnolls weren't savage. Yet Gahesznem took it a leap beyond.

She really needed to find a husband or four to dote on this woman like she deserved... even if Amun'Dzeer said nothing, she knew she wouldn't be where she was without her faithful servant.

 

[Gahesznem]

All have been assembled, Gaheznem took one of the bones between her clawed fingers, gripping it so no fur would sit against the meat. A deep inhale followed to savour the delicate scent of the meat cooked in broth.
She then bit into the bone as it made a satisfying crunch.
True, bone rarely looked appetising to most men, but the meat by it was most delectable of the entire beast.
»Chief of the spit and her pack, she must be applauded for this lavish meal.« Gahesznem leaned towards one of the lesser striped servant gnolls, speaking in the sweetest tone of her voice.

As her eyes crossed with her Pharaoh just for a moment...
»Do you desire for some berry preserve, oh my Brightest Highness?« She smiled, closing her eyes as she offered Amun'Dzeer the carved horn of the produce.

 

[Ilhathix]

Ilhathix wasted no time taking to Amun'Deer's side. While he did not show his rushing, he was ever eager to be beside his savior at any moment. It was his preferred place to be in all the world. He sat atop his knees, lowering his head ever so to ensure his princess was always above him. As he saw her, as he valued her.
The question came, and it was something that he did not enjoy divulging in.

He would never disobey his princess, however.

A growling sigh escaped his lips as his closed and reopened his eyes, looking around the room at his comrades who's attention had turned to their conversation. Though few eyes remained locked on Ilhathix's eyes as he was considered one of the more ferocious gnolls among them all.

"There isn't much I remember, my princess..." He spoke deep and honestly, setting his own meal down to finish his anecdote. "I remember cold. Grievous cold. I remember a father and a mother, their names long forgotten with time and torture. I do not even remember my own capture, just my servitude to the humans who made me their work horse." He looked upward, outside. "Somewhere mountainous, I'd presume, is where my name hails from."

 

[Princess Amun'Dzeer]

Amun'Dzeer was always a bit of a sucker for this kind of tragedy; unfortunately one all-too-common across Arethil. Most of her own royal guard were from such stock. It bred loyalty, for one, and they tended to be the most powerful of her inner circle. Keeping their bubbling rage in check took a little sensitivity and control in equal measure, however.

"Atleast those mines are long destroyed," she reassured him, "and soon, we shall have our own to claim. Worked by someone else's hands."

She raised a bone from her platter in celebration; they ate off gold and drank fine wine and beer. This was the feast that her people had long deserved. "We shall never again suffer our children to belong to another. Our sons and husbands used for meek human needs; our daughters exploited for their litters."

That earned a chorus of cackles, some of the gruffer and more aggressive Matriarchs belting out full laughs in support. She herself was silent. She would be a poor diplomat if she simply showed her emotions openly. Knowing when to control ones self and when to show something, even if fake, was a critical art.

The next course was coming up now. It was a native dish from the Iterulon valley, braised waterfowl in beer and herbs, she believed, but not something she could pin exactly. She waited until it was set before her; as protocol dictated, Gahesznem was the first to eat. She would probably announce the dish as well, before Amun'Dzeer could dig in excited though she was.

The night wouldn't be much longer; soon she would retire, and prepare for tomorrow. There was much to do tomorrow, such as riding out to the ruins of the royal palace from millennia ago. It would be rebuilt in stages, starting with pillars and cloth, culminating in walls of painted sandstone and gold.

 

[Gahesznem]

»You fare much better with us, dear Ilhathix ,« Mused Gahesznem with her sweet tone. »Tomorrow soon we will make our march to claim the lands, hopefully in peace.«

The Hyena-ess mused on quietly as the food was consumed at it's expected pace and her most steemed pharaoh could talk in peace with Ilhathix.


Eventually came the next course.
»Iterluon's special, a recipe of these lands assumed long forgotten, special praise goes to the matroness Shikmar, who had taken time to barter for the most delicious beer of the valley.« The mentioned matroness, briefly nodded her head, her face a mixture of embarrassment and pride. She was known to be rather discrete and rare spoken.
»Braised Iturlean gray goose in beer and riverine mint and citrus of the eastern plantations.« As distated by decorum, Gahesznem took a taste first and nodded her nose before the Pharaoh. The food was most delicious.

As evening decorum would continue even then the handmaiden would continue to her duties, whether it was to send off the announcement or prepare a bath for Princess Amun'Dzeer, play her lyre and or sing.
Tomorrow it was to see what tribe sends the branch of peace or an empty fist of war.