Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2012 12:59:25 GMT -5
The great desert expanse stretched out for miles in all directions. Its looming scale was awe inspiring but enough to drive a desperate man to the edge of sanity and hope. Being lost here was a death sentence to most. The dry, barren and inhospitable landscape was largely identical wherever one looked all you could see was sand. True enough in the distance was littered the odd tower of ancient rock, weathered by years of harsh wind but for the most part the horizon was an ocean of mighty dunes. They rose and fell like the waves of the stormiest seas, making traversing this place all the more challenging. Even the cactus could not grow here. The dunes which appeared smooth when approached revealed in fact a mass pattern of squiggly lines, like so many tiny snakes that glimmered and danced under the intense heat waves of the sun. This place was known merely as the waste.
Ashmir trudged forward at a respectable pace. It had been four days of straight walking and despite having rationed his gourd as well as he could, this morning he’d run out of water. Each step was laboured but deliberate, his arms moved in rhythm with his feet naturally placing the large trident he held into the sand below, hilt first, like a walking stick. His feet were bare and we wore no clothes save an armoured loincloth. The sun-baked sand had managed to blister even his leathery soles, but today it was worse. He’d been until now travelling by night and resting in the day. His skin had bronzed quickly but was now looking sorely red. His lips were cracked and his mouth parched but he could wait no longer. For you see, he was not strictly speaking lost. Amongst his people Ashmir had not been much of a tracker, but had made an impressive hunter nonetheless. That said, his people were phenomenal trackers in respect to the general population of the world. As such he had enough skill to recognise tracks, even here in the desert – especially when made so obnoxiously. He’d been following something heavy for days, tracks of some kind of vehicle, most likely a cart. Its direction was discernible, to some so would it’s speed and distance away but these were not talents the wayward barbarian possessed. All he knew was that he was not so far behind that the desert winds had killed his chances of ever catching up. Yet he’d run out of water, he could be patient no longer and so he pressed forth through the morning heat.
He’d come here searching for men. This place was known to be home to small tribes of nomadic desert dwellers. How one could survive such an environment Ashmir could not imagine, but he did not doubt their existence because tracks do not lie. That fact in itself was what had been puzzling him for days. There were people walking, at least occasionally, their tracks were usually ruined but just once or twice he’d seen distinctly human footprints. However, the beasts of burden pulling the carts had wide, unusually distanced prints. Uncommon to any kind of pack animal he’d ever seen. Why were the nomads moving with such pace?
Trudging up what seemed to be the millionth dune that day, the would-be conqueror pulled his unwilling body up the soft sand. Each step was such effort, almost like walking through snow. ‘Snow...’ Ashmir thought lustfully, the image seemed to soothe him for just a moment but he soon found himself regretting the fantasy. It was cruel the tricks the mind played on a worn body, but perhaps it was what allowed men to overcome harsh circumstance. After all no amount of sand and heat were going to overcome him, Ashmir, a name that history would remember and revere. He would conquer this place and forge himself a crew of the hardiest men the world could smelt. He’d lost the tracks some while ago, but was confident of their heading, he’d pick them up again as he already had several times.
“W-Woah!”
His foot fell suddenly from under him as his body twisted violently and instinctively. Throwing himself into the sand, his feet scrambled desperately for purchase as he ploughed the head of his trident into desert like an anchor. The dune he’d climbed had been the largest in a while, but he’d not expected a drop so sheer. His eyes had glimpsed something, something impossible. He told himself already what he’d seen could not be true but already he was standing and turning, turning to take a second look.
Below him was a sprawling metropolis. For those moments he forgot his fatigue as his eyes gazed on in wonder. The city was literally a part of the landscape; it looked as if it had been carved into the sand dune itself. Magnificent sandstone structures stretched toward the sky, the tallest of which were almost level with his position atop the mammoth dune. The sight was truly spectacular; the buildings were robust and ancient looking, castle like towers, flat sandy hewed roofs and brilliant red tiles. Streets flowing with activity, tents, bazaars and marketers. A massive semi circular stadium drew the eye as one of the more dominant architectural feats. The place was staged, perhaps built upon a rock-face that the sands had settled on. The far exposed side of the city was protected by a mighty wall; it was there he would have to journey to enter this place. He wanted to enter, he wanted to know what this place was, and he wanted to make it his own. He was Ashmir and he would conquer this oasis city.
