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05/13/2005 6:53 PM
OOC: I so had to do this! I need someone to play the Sultan’s son and possibly a leader of the enemies army (male or female).
A black cloaked figure had been riding the desert waves for nearly an hour on a camel. Inching nearer to the Arabian Palace the figure seemed distressed as it whipped the camel screaming in a woman’s voice: “Tut!” and continuing forward. After a half an hour the sand colored stone doors opened up as sand piled off the top. Women were the cloaked ones while the men were all around wearing white bottoms to keep the heat at bay. Passing the market in a quick hurry it would be a matter of time before the black cloaked figure reached the palace stables.
After leaving the camel safe, the green eyes were the only thing being seen as the figure moved towards the sleek stairs, rushing towards the chambers. As the thin black cloak fell, ebony hair spewed down towards the figures navel. Her cheeks were flushed from riding for four hours and then continuing her running matters towards the Sultan. Her tan leather boots were quiet on the floor. Her figure was slender, petite and curvy. Her top consisted of a teal strapless fabric covering her breasts, held by a gold chain. It followed down towards the base of her lower hip as thin pants with slits up the side.
Her breath had been worn out as she gasped quietly for the air and was stopped by a local guard wearing black pants with a whip to the side. She swallowed hard as he recognized the small print on her lower back as she ran by. It was a triangle shaped symbol with a letter that looked to be like a letter ‘t.’ It would take another moment to finish rushing down the long hallways that were finely decorated with purple, black and gold fabrics. The floors revealed her reflection in perfection as she finally reached the end of the hallways.
In a distressed call she cried out for the Sultan who sat at his throne with a tall slender man dressed in red at his side. Two guards came out with their swords to her throat as she swallowed hard, gasping her breath. “Sultan!” She cried out once more as her green eyes penetrated his dark brown ones. He looked at the woman fully and nodded his head where the guards put their swords down and followed behind her, making sure the brand was on her back correctly. They nodded in approval and went back towards the doors once more.
“Yes?” He called out as the man in red whispered something in his ear. His crown was made of pure gold from Egypt and the jewels from the Africa. His white hair was cut short in the summer’s heat and he was very short and fat with stubby legs. He was a great leader until his consultant; Rahamar came into picture as his late nephew who only wanted the throne. It wasn’t any of her business since she lived close to five hours away from the palace gates. Bending down on her knees onto a red velvet pillow she swallowed once more as her ebony hair touched the floor slightly. “It’s...coming.”
Rahamar’s gold ice blue eyes twinkled in surprise. “We knew that! A little late for a priestess?” His words were as gold as his dead eyes and thirst for power, yet he swept his eyes desperately over her body picturing images of romance in the Arabian Nights. The Sultan raised his hand and smiled at the woman knelt before him. “Kendra, speak.” The woman held her chin up and nodded. “It’s time. By the next full moon at sundown they will be here, sweeping the entire land from the Niles tip to the end. Starting here.” Kendra’s green eyes looked in a fear most priestess’ did not show.
Rahamar moved a step but a large blue staff came in front of him as it was the Sultan’s. “She’s lying your highness. She’s nothing but a whore! Look at her!” In anger Rahamar turned on his heel and moved down the back hallways were he cursed his name and such. The Sultan looked over at Kendra.
“Are you lying? I will have your head removed if I hear a lie.”
“I am not. I assure you.”
“Good. I will hear no more. Send in Dameon!”
Dameon was a man of great power who lead the Sultan’s army. He was not Arabic but an Egyptian prisoner who lived in Greece. He was known as many things like the ‘Bringer of Death.’ He was not afraid to show his emotions to kill, in fact his close friends invited the death and wished death on all the weakness. They claimed to have their life surrounded by the never ending cycle of power. As for women they did not love nor could as it would fault their masculinity. In the children’s sake they cared for the males who would become strong leaders.
A man came in dressed with black pants and dark tanned shoes. His body was ripped and full of muscle as he glided in quietly, his large sword strapped to his back, his hair long, curly and black and his eyes ice blue. His jaw was clenched tightly as he knelt down beside Kendra and looked at the Sultan. Kendra’s eyes looked over for a brief moment and then back at the Sultan. “Sultan Nozarh, what can I do for you?” His voice was emotionless and bitter. The Sultan looked over at Kendra and then back at Dameon. “You will prepare the army. We have until next full moon.” Kendra didn’t know whether that would give the army enough time to prepare but from the stern look on Dameon’s face, it was not an issue. Before rising, Dameon gave his cold glare at her. The look of death as she swallowed as a drop of sweat ran down her cheek and then her breast. She too clenched her jaw, not afraid of death, afraid of what was coming.
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