Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 16, 2024 10:34:51 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 10, 2017 12:15:14 GMT -8
  Behind and at the base of the Temple of Serenity is another palace with wide and open walls. At its center, is a fountain they have made for the spring the Sakandi had found all those eons ago. The water here is magic. The water can heal you of your wounds and illnesses, bring your body to peak health, make you more susceptible to the threads of majic, and keep you in the youth of life. It is treasured by the Sakandi people, and a place of sacred place. Although guards are posted everywhere so no one is ever really alone in the plaza, it is never locked down, for the belief is that the water is for everyone. This is the birthplace of all of the freshwater in Sakand, and is the exact place where at least two of the arcane leylines of the world intersect. Scholars believe this is the reason why the spring has even come into existence. From this spring is where the canals, fountains, sewage, and flood plains get their water. |
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Bahram
New
Roleplay posts: 4 
Age: Thirties
Physical Description: A man forged in the unforgiving heat and harshness of his homeland in Sakand. Dark charcoal colored hair, almost mystically blue eyes, and body honed by years of training. A deep scar goes from left cheek through his lips.
Clothes and Equipment: His attire is ever changing, as the occasion and time require. As a noble he doesn’t go without but as man focused on spirit and war he tries to forgo regality. Simple but fine silks and linen normally. He carries the scimitar “Smokeless Fire” handed down through his line. A blessed weapon that summons magic from the very land.
Registered: Aug 19, 2017 8:41:38 GMT -8
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Post by Bahram on Aug 20, 2017 9:57:54 GMT -8
[enters]
“Rest my friend.“ The voice was harmony with aggression, a perfect balance.
Laying down a fine red silk cloth, he laid out the symbolic weapon of his house. The long curved Scimitar rested perfectly before he covered it with the second half of the crimson fabric. Weapons weren’t of need here, not in this place of self-reflection.
Moving toward the pools he took a look at the mirror cascading in the life-giving purification pools. A tall man who looked more common then noble he barely recognized himself. Nearly he wanted to reach out and touch the scar left from his harsh training. On his face was a memorable reminder that Djinn weren’t tools used for personal gain but dangerous forces trusting only those with pure intention.
Pure of blood he was from a fantastic dynasty but as his hauntingly blue eyes shined on the Hummingbird guards stood silent and the common folk brought worry too down here he couldn’t help but feel like a prisoner. From the highest peak down into the deepest valley they were tools or so these foreigners thought.
His hand did reach up now and moved through the ripple of his scar. They could be a dangerous force again, his people could be free he believed. It was something he’d dreamt about the moment he walked into the fire.
“Take away my weakness.” He whispered into the water.
“Take away my worry.” Slower now, his words held conviction.
“Help me slay my enemies.” His teeth clenched.
“I do this for my people.” Eyes opening he brushed his hands over the water.
Rejuvenated by the properties he felt his spirit cleansed. A warrior must be focused and man must have purpose. Gods help those who denied him.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 16, 2024 10:34:51 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Aug 20, 2017 10:11:35 GMT -8
The Lady Maharet was known for her serenity and her kindness, and known for her need and hunger of knowledge of the djinn, majic, and Sakandshrianan. It was not unusual for the petite woman to be found at the Temple of Serenity, but she found herself at the Fountain of Life. The waters flowed everywhere, so often there wasn't a need for people to come to this place, yet Maharet found that this marble garden sometimes helped to ease her troubled mind. She had been having dreams, terrible dreams. She spoke of them to no one, for the honey-skinned woman was beginning to believe that they were omens... But how could that be so? The city was rejoicing with the arrival of Emir Alim al-Rashid and the Maridi, and the announced marriage of her sister, @asherah to Daimyo Akagi Zuikaku. Sakand was flourishing beneath the hand of @fairuz, even if it had become common knowledge that Empress Naoki and the Israns would not return the Heart of Sakand. Still... Something weighed heavily on her mind, so she came to the temple... ... Only to find Bahram there. She would have known him anywhere. Maharet stopped, the long sash she wore wrapped around her hips and tossed over one shoulder (indeed, the only thing she wore aside from her jewelry), whispering on the cool shaded told. Her dark Sakandi eyes watched him, then came together in a frown. She stepped into the sunlight then, and addressed him. "That is not how you will find peace," Maharet said. |
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Bahram
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: Thirties
Physical Description: A man forged in the unforgiving heat and harshness of his homeland in Sakand. Dark charcoal colored hair, almost mystically blue eyes, and body honed by years of training. A deep scar goes from left cheek through his lips.
Clothes and Equipment: His attire is ever changing, as the occasion and time require. As a noble he doesn’t go without but as man focused on spirit and war he tries to forgo regality. Simple but fine silks and linen normally. He carries the scimitar “Smokeless Fire” handed down through his line. A blessed weapon that summons magic from the very land.
Registered: Aug 19, 2017 8:41:38 GMT -8
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Post by Bahram on Aug 20, 2017 10:56:55 GMT -8
“Peace?” He commented more then he asked.
His frame didn’t turn toward the voice, not at first. His eyes rested forward on the reflection as if he was finishing a silent prayer. Spirit and mind temporally freed from physical shackles he sought first pleasantries.
“Lady Maharet.” His lips curled into a grin, the seriousness of his private monologue seemingly fading away.
He swayed closer toward her like a great serpent on the hot sand. Even behind the harshness and scars he still carried a handsome dreamer, a boy he’d once been. Those ghost like eyes hauntingly carried from the Djinn focused in on her.
“I don’t see you here often, I fear very little written knowledge can be obtained here. Though perhaps some spoken word?” A grin crossed his lips again. Losing his façade of adulthood quickly.
His hands folded behind his back as he stood straight modeling the military mindset he’d adopted but the lover’s interior still shown when addressed with a lovely creature as this. Hesitation still a reason he wasn’t wed, he loved the thought of romance but his heart was that of a patriot first.
He noticed she seemed pleased, as most were. They had found cousins from the water. It didn’t seem to make smile. Prominent marriages, and good fortunes for his people is what most believed. He knew well of the history they’d prospered before but when you rely on the strength of others, the fall call be devastating.
Still within range of the watery pool, he knelt down and scooped a handful up and splashed at the girl.
“We all have our own peace, yes?” He laughed.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 16, 2024 10:34:51 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Aug 20, 2017 15:34:27 GMT -8
He spoke her name, he smiled -- and she smiled, too. The worry eased from her face, from those liquid brown eyes of hers as she walked closer to him. The sunlight itself seemed to wrap her in a warm embrace, kissing the naked skin of her shoulder and the flashes of her trim waist.
A diadem gleamed where it laid across her forehead, tiny jewels sparkling in the light. A snake was banded around one of her upper arms, and henna tattooed upon her hand to her forearm. Jewelry dangled from her ears in the appearance of hummingbirds supping from the agana flower. Indeed, she sparkled as a princess should, and had the gentleness so taught by the priests and priestesses of the Temple.
And yet...
... She was the niece of the Emira of Sakand, women known to be cunning and dangerous, a family with ambition and pride. There was no way that the brush of fate did not also draw designs on Maharet, too.
And Bahram teased her, splashing her with a bit of the holy water which was immediately followed by the ring of her laughter off of the parapets and stone around them, an expression of shock over her lovely face. She laughed and lifted her hand to wipe at the water that splashed along the curve of her jaw and her throat.
"Yes, I suppose," she said, laughter still thread on her voice. She stepped closer still to the fountain and let her fingers slide into the cool of the water, her gaze on the fountain as it flowed. "But I cannot imagine there is much peace in bloodshed."
Maharet lifted her thick lashes to look Bahram in the face. "The Emira plans to expand her army beyond the Hummingbird guard. They say she wants to ride into the tribelands." Feminine dark eyes searched his, a bit of the happiness fading for that worry to come back. "Will it be to conquer them?"
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Bahram
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: Thirties
Physical Description: A man forged in the unforgiving heat and harshness of his homeland in Sakand. Dark charcoal colored hair, almost mystically blue eyes, and body honed by years of training. A deep scar goes from left cheek through his lips.
Clothes and Equipment: His attire is ever changing, as the occasion and time require. As a noble he doesn’t go without but as man focused on spirit and war he tries to forgo regality. Simple but fine silks and linen normally. He carries the scimitar “Smokeless Fire” handed down through his line. A blessed weapon that summons magic from the very land.
Registered: Aug 19, 2017 8:41:38 GMT -8
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Post by Bahram on Aug 20, 2017 16:21:02 GMT -8
A student of knowledge always in the forefront of her mind, he couldn’t hide the smirk as she seemingly teased him with word of conquest after trying to scold him on the truths of war and peace.
“When flowers and talks can stop arrows we can avoid bloodshed. Until then? We will always have men like me.” He said with a hint of servitude.
He wasn’t all bravado few of his kind were, it was vice and they had enough bondage as a people as it were. His speech continued as he allowed his body to grow more comfortable in her presence.
“ She has spoken with my family. We will begin training. A few for now, the rest will be purchased. “ He spoke as if he was confessing, he never dropped his eyes from her.
“Conquer?” He clicked his tongue in a scolding manner, head shaking slightly.
He was a breath away from her. So close he could feel the space between them vanish. Every ounce of his form wished to reach for her. She was beautiful and that was enough. Hot-blooded men didn’t become cool because no fight was to be had.
“I only want liberation. We deserve that don’t we?”
His voice paused as he leaned forward, and everything else vanished. It was the closeness where you forgot where you were or why you’d even come.
“We deserve it.” He repeated, speaking on another matter entirely.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 16, 2024 10:34:51 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Aug 21, 2017 17:04:13 GMT -8
Dark, elegant brows drew gently together as he spoke of flowers and bloodshed, soldiers and mercenaries. She was worried, and rightfully so. That Bahram seemed so casual about it all, so relaxed bothered her as well.
In the air, birds faintly chirped, and the very soft wind whispered over her skin, carrying the delicate scent of Jasmine she'd rubbed into her skin and thick, tumbling hair. She took her hand from the waters of the fountain, water gently splashing and the bangles around one wrist chiming. Her dark, almond shaped eyes had focused on something else...
... But as he stepped closer, she caught her breath and lifted those thick lashes to look up at him. She was a warm blooded woman, and the playful masculinity of Bahram toyed with her hormones. They weren't even touching, yet with how close they stood beside that fountain, they could have been. Her soft, honey-hued skin seemed to prickle with that awareness.
She swallowed, and as his head leaned closer, as his voice rumbled like quiet thunder, she whet her lips with the pink of her tongue. All at once, Maharet was hyper aware of her virginity.
"The tribesmen," she said quietly, almost desperate to keep on track even while she felt a flush start at her breasts and creep upward with his nearness, "they-- they're our cousins, too, are they not? They deserve a chance for..." For what, Maharet? Bahram was distracting her. "For... Diplomacy."
Her hands clenched the edge of the fountain in a white knuckled grip, but she didn't move away from him.
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Bahram
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: Thirties
Physical Description: A man forged in the unforgiving heat and harshness of his homeland in Sakand. Dark charcoal colored hair, almost mystically blue eyes, and body honed by years of training. A deep scar goes from left cheek through his lips.
Clothes and Equipment: His attire is ever changing, as the occasion and time require. As a noble he doesn’t go without but as man focused on spirit and war he tries to forgo regality. Simple but fine silks and linen normally. He carries the scimitar “Smokeless Fire” handed down through his line. A blessed weapon that summons magic from the very land.
Registered: Aug 19, 2017 8:41:38 GMT -8
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Post by Bahram on Aug 24, 2017 16:21:17 GMT -8
What could he say? She was like many of the other regality. She wished for a peaceful transition. Who didn’t? If the tribes would join peacefully then he certainly would oblige. He slowly dropped backed giving her distance.
“ Of course, my intent is to bring all of those in our kingdom under one banner, but steel is often forged in fire.” His voice rang.
Allowing his eyes to drift off her he grinned drawing his attention around the ornate watering hole. He wouldn’t let his people fade into the sand.
Bring the tribes in, build a military, tame the great serpent, and then? That all depended on his orders. He needed to speak with the highest authority they knew. A relative of Maharet. His dark complexion shown distinctly in the rays of light passing over him he was a native and his directive was preservation of HIS people.
“ I’ve enjoyed this company but I am a man of movement. I fear if I stopped moving I may perish. “ He chuckled as if it had been a joke but his eyes told a different tale.
He bowed respectfully. In another time in a more peaceful life he’d married a woman like her. He’d had several children and lived a good life. It often consumed him, the what ifs. Still he smiled as he always did and turned on his heels. His hands extended and the blade of smokeless fire came to him like a lost dog. The red cloth it had been cloaked in vanishing like a mirage.
She awaited him.
{exit}
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