"You and your King, have our many thanks," Waleed said with bow. "Will your King be reborn? This temple, who will guard it now? These cultists, what about them?" Waleed had many questions and wanted answers now that the danger had seemingly passed. "Let us gather our reward, inspect it and remain here until Saleh can take us back to the ship." Turning to Rasool's friend, "Taj, my friend, what is your future now?" Waleed non-chalantly placed the giant diamond back into his belt purse.
Post by Zaim al-Daleel on Jun 9, 2009 14:54:27 GMT -7
"All thanksss isss for you and your friendsss," Taj replied. "My King will not be reborn, he has gone ahead to his reward. Hisss memoriesss will live on, here in thisss temple and in the mind of hisss daughter and successor Sharamaaz."
Gathering up the reward, you walk outside to the walkway. The physical damage of the place remains unchanged but for the scores of crumbling obelisks that had been knocked over. Each was now upright amid the rubble of its shrine. A new obelisk stood among the ancient, glistened with raindrops and bearing the inscription: Sharaman. Husband of Maazara, Father of Sharamaaz, Two-hundred-and-twelfth restorer of the Temple.
"Soon the children of my fallen brothersss and sistersss will arrive to rebuild the shrinesss," Taj hissed. You're no expert on the moods of serpents, but Taj sounded quite content.
Slithering off Rasool, Taj made his way down the ramp and over to a flat stone-ringed well at one corner of the courtyard. "Yesss. Yesss." Taj said. "The holy well. To complete my Kingsss request we must take a draft from this holy well. The draft and the talisman must go to ssSharamaaz. Daughter and successor. She livesss near the coast of Bahr al-Izdiham, the crowded sssea, northeast of Dhiliz. Within the Leaning Towersss."
"I can show you where," he hissed, slithering back to his position around Rasool's shoulders.
Post by Zaim al-Daleel on Jun 17, 2009 7:13:34 GMT -7
After filling a waterskin from the holy well you set off on your journey back toward the Abdo river where your companions await aboard the Freshwater Pearl. You find the hint of an ancient path heading north, overgrown by the jungle but still far easier to travel on than through raw jungle.
The air within the canopied path is pregnant with moisture and each breath you draw overloads your senses; fist sized blossoms compete with decaying leaves and rotting trees, stagnant pools and moss covered rocks vie for notice against the sweat of your bodies.
After several hours of travel the little light that reaches you begins to fade. You make camp beneath unseen stars.