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<blockquote data-quote="havenstone" data-source="post: 4779583" data-attributes="member: 61094"><p><strong>Overlord Daiqao</strong></p><p></p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">THE WEATHER GROWS </span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">colder, forcing the prisoners to cling to each other in the cage at night for warmth and taxing Ontaya’s ability to cure disease. The Xaimani guards finally toss furs into the cages; a week later, after the first snowstorm hits, they also take a day to bind hides around the bamboo bars to create some shelter and keep all the slaves from dying of exposure. The winter is somewhat milder than the party is used to, but there are still many weeks of bitter cold. Hamber and T’harai, bundled up with their adoptive mothers, acquire a taste for the icicles that hang from the ceiling most mornings.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">One winter evening, a tall Xaimani officer bearing an ornate ceremonial spear approaches their cage, escorted by a dozen guards. The officer’s armor and helmet are adorned with golden characters, and a golden mask with a snarling mouth mostly obscures his face. “I am <em>cadan</em> Tshien Lo Dan,” he says in the common Xaimani tongue, speaking at a measured enough pace that some of the cage’s faster learners can just about understand him. “This legion of the Spear Path is under my command on the field of battle, following the will of <em>qil-ayan</em> Daiqao.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">None of the prisoners dare to respond, which the <em>cadan</em> seems to consider normal. “The guards tell me that you are the leader,” he continues, pointing to Ontaya. The paladin makes a noncommittal gesture; Lune and Atrix both roll their eyes, and Curago’s upper lip curls. “You will come with me at once.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Bow and thank the <em>cadan</em>,” one of the guards adds sharply. Ontaya bows to the gilt-armored officer and is released from the cage. The <em>cadan</em> also demands that “the Jendae” come along to translate. Korael and Ontaya’s makeshift fur shoes do little to keep out the snow as they trudge out of the cage zone and through the seemingly endless ranks of Xaimani military tents.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The great central tent is decorated with gold banners, and its axial pole culminates in a stylized pair of crossed swords bound together with gilded cords. Outside, a black-armored honor guard stand with spears whose ghostly glow is plainly visible in the snowy twilight. The gruff officer issues Ontaya into the tent, where the air smells of woodsmoke, incense, and spicy meat. Several other soldiers and a black-robed man wearing a heavy fur mantle are seated on cushions around a brazier. Just behind them at the rear of the tent stands a suit of plate armor that appears to have been cast from pure gold; beside the armor hangs a long, curved sword with runes engraved along the blade. Casting her eyes around quickly, Ontaya concludes that the armor and sword belong to the short man who sits slightly to one side of the brazier, gazing at her without expression. She bows politely in his direction.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">He smiles slightly and says a word Ontaya doesn’t recognize. “The Overlord compliments your perceptiveness,” Korael whispers. “He is <em>qil-ayan</em> Daiqao -- the high general of these legions. You might want to make a deeper bow.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ontaya complies silently. She notes that general’s voice is crisp and authoritative, even when she does not understand half of what he is saying. His skin is also distinctly lighter than most of the Xaimani Ontaya has seen, and his features are flatter. Korael translates as the Overlord speaks: “Your cage of slaves has been the only one to suffer no deaths by violence, starvation or sickness. Can you explain this?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ontaya feels disoriented, sure that she should be sensing more evil on these men, given the near-constant brutality and atrocities against the innocent she has seen since her capture. Her paladin sense of evil is there, but muted to a strikingly low level, as though their appalling cruelty were accompanied by no particular malice. “The blessing of the One.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">When Korael translates, Daiqao inclines his head to regard the black-robed man. “What do you say, Reflective One? Does the beneficence of Ii rest on these barbarians?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The Xaimani cleric shrugs. “The glory of Ii is over all the nations. It is known that these barbarians have priests, and from what we have heard, it would seem that the Northerners have a clearer image of the One than do the Arawai or Lakshari.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Daiqao turns back sharply to Ontaya, who is resisting the desire to ask some theological questions of her own. “Is it the blessing of Ii that keeps the slaves in your cage from fighting, raping, and killing each other?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“No, Overlord,” Ontaya replies, meeting his eyes. “It is our decision not to act like animals.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The Southern general nods. “I think you will make a good slavemaster -- for an owner far more auspicious than the Legions. Your cage will be saved for Tziwan itself.” He waves the slaves away in dismissal. “Thank you, <em>cadan</em>.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The <em>cadan</em> exits the tent and regards Ontaya with an approving stare. “You Northerners may not make much account of yourselves on the battlefield, but some of you will make excellent slaves.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ontaya shows no expression as she bows again.</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="havenstone, post: 4779583, member: 61094"] [b]Overlord Daiqao[/b] [B][FONT=Verdana]THE WEATHER GROWS [/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana]colder, forcing the prisoners to cling to each other in the cage at night for warmth and taxing Ontaya’s ability to cure disease. The Xaimani guards finally toss furs into the cages; a week later, after the first snowstorm hits, they also take a day to bind hides around the bamboo bars to create some shelter and keep all the slaves from dying of exposure. The winter is somewhat milder than the party is used to, but there are still many weeks of bitter cold. Hamber and T’harai, bundled up with their adoptive mothers, acquire a taste for the icicles that hang from the ceiling most mornings.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]One winter evening, a tall Xaimani officer bearing an ornate ceremonial spear approaches their cage, escorted by a dozen guards. The officer’s armor and helmet are adorned with golden characters, and a golden mask with a snarling mouth mostly obscures his face. “I am [I]cadan[/I] Tshien Lo Dan,” he says in the common Xaimani tongue, speaking at a measured enough pace that some of the cage’s faster learners can just about understand him. “This legion of the Spear Path is under my command on the field of battle, following the will of [I]qil-ayan[/I] Daiqao.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]None of the prisoners dare to respond, which the [I]cadan[/I] seems to consider normal. “The guards tell me that you are the leader,” he continues, pointing to Ontaya. The paladin makes a noncommittal gesture; Lune and Atrix both roll their eyes, and Curago’s upper lip curls. “You will come with me at once.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Bow and thank the [I]cadan[/I],” one of the guards adds sharply. Ontaya bows to the gilt-armored officer and is released from the cage. The [I]cadan[/I] also demands that “the Jendae” come along to translate. Korael and Ontaya’s makeshift fur shoes do little to keep out the snow as they trudge out of the cage zone and through the seemingly endless ranks of Xaimani military tents.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The great central tent is decorated with gold banners, and its axial pole culminates in a stylized pair of crossed swords bound together with gilded cords. Outside, a black-armored honor guard stand with spears whose ghostly glow is plainly visible in the snowy twilight. The gruff officer issues Ontaya into the tent, where the air smells of woodsmoke, incense, and spicy meat. Several other soldiers and a black-robed man wearing a heavy fur mantle are seated on cushions around a brazier. Just behind them at the rear of the tent stands a suit of plate armor that appears to have been cast from pure gold; beside the armor hangs a long, curved sword with runes engraved along the blade. Casting her eyes around quickly, Ontaya concludes that the armor and sword belong to the short man who sits slightly to one side of the brazier, gazing at her without expression. She bows politely in his direction.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]He smiles slightly and says a word Ontaya doesn’t recognize. “The Overlord compliments your perceptiveness,” Korael whispers. “He is [I]qil-ayan[/I] Daiqao -- the high general of these legions. You might want to make a deeper bow.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Ontaya complies silently. She notes that general’s voice is crisp and authoritative, even when she does not understand half of what he is saying. His skin is also distinctly lighter than most of the Xaimani Ontaya has seen, and his features are flatter. Korael translates as the Overlord speaks: “Your cage of slaves has been the only one to suffer no deaths by violence, starvation or sickness. Can you explain this?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Ontaya feels disoriented, sure that she should be sensing more evil on these men, given the near-constant brutality and atrocities against the innocent she has seen since her capture. Her paladin sense of evil is there, but muted to a strikingly low level, as though their appalling cruelty were accompanied by no particular malice. “The blessing of the One.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]When Korael translates, Daiqao inclines his head to regard the black-robed man. “What do you say, Reflective One? Does the beneficence of Ii rest on these barbarians?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The Xaimani cleric shrugs. “The glory of Ii is over all the nations. It is known that these barbarians have priests, and from what we have heard, it would seem that the Northerners have a clearer image of the One than do the Arawai or Lakshari.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Daiqao turns back sharply to Ontaya, who is resisting the desire to ask some theological questions of her own. “Is it the blessing of Ii that keeps the slaves in your cage from fighting, raping, and killing each other?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“No, Overlord,” Ontaya replies, meeting his eyes. “It is our decision not to act like animals.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The Southern general nods. “I think you will make a good slavemaster -- for an owner far more auspicious than the Legions. Your cage will be saved for Tziwan itself.” He waves the slaves away in dismissal. “Thank you, [I]cadan[/I].”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The [I]cadan[/I] exits the tent and regards Ontaya with an approving stare. “You Northerners may not make much account of yourselves on the battlefield, but some of you will make excellent slaves.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Ontaya shows no expression as she bows again.[/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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