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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Quickleaf" data-source="post: 7313314" data-attributes="member: 20323"><img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b8/cd/39/b8cd39e37971095b9b907cba5fb26db1--golem-character-profile.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" /> Winds hiss around the edges of Salahuddin's prayer rug as the Al-Aeshma sinks down lower to loom over, blazing eyes narrowing as he surveys the confident sha'ir. Despite the Al-Aeshma's bluster, his demeanor says he knows well the legends of Zakhara's genie-binders. "Surely you know of the Seal of Jafar al-Samal, O Wind Called, which bound the genies to the will of the first sha'irs? Jafar's students succumbed to greed and ambition upon his death, and took to fighting over the Seal, whereupon their gens hid the artifact so well it remains a secret to this day." The legends of the Seal of Jafar al-Samal were beyond counting; some believed it hidden in the City of the Jann, others buried and warded beneath the World Pillar Mountains, and still others that it was kept by the Loregiver herself in paradise. "The Great Caliph and his djinni court believed that Fate had made servitors of genie-kind, that we should accept our place under the yoke of the Seal. To swallow this bitter stroke to their pride, the djinn hid their servitude behind elaborate rituals, flatteries, and gift exchanges. But I knew better. A gilded cage is still a cage. In those bygone days, I refused to grant the wish of a student of Jafar the Incomparable – I remember him now, so proud in his burgundy robes – that he should gain mastery over the sun, moon, and stars and all the fires of life." Snorting flurries of sand in contempt...or perhaps begrudging respect...the Al-Aeshma sinks down lower, his contorted facial features growing clearer by your campfire light. "I refused that sha'ir. And I was not alone. Not all in the Great Caliph's demesnes believed that we must accept the Fate we are given. And so the Great Caliph summoned us, and consulted his Lords of Air to sit in judgment, and in their wisdom we were banished from the winds of creation to the wastes of this world."Gesturing with a taloned hand toward the night sky above, the Al-Aeshma's blazing eyes shine with the kind of understanding commonly seen among sheikhs and desert tribesmen used to endless days and nights at the mercy of the gods. He proceeds to answer Salahuddin's second question obtusely. "Consider the night sky, O Wind Called. It inspires your tribesmen, gives life-giving rain, and guides wayward caravans home. It terrifies children and unleashes ravaging storms. It has existed before you and before your father, and it will exist long after you are dust. If you sought to bind the night sky, you would be a fool. It cannot be bound, for it belongs to eternity. We Al-Aeshma belong to eternity as well. The Great Caliph diminishes our natures, comfortable to let his court be manipulated by mortals, content in the gilded cage." Fumes roll from his nose as the Al-Aeshma crosses his arms, hunching over so he and Salahuddin can see one another's eyes. "Can you see? If you were as the night sky, would you break this sacred law yourself?"Beyond the dry riverbed are a quintuple of dust devils – perhaps more – gyrating across the desert's surface, just barely perceptible in the sliver of moonlight. As Amina's eyes scan the horizon for signs of other creatures, it is the movement of the dust devils that catches her attention. The winds blow down the eastern mountains toward the southwest. The dust devils should be moving with the wind, but instead they seem to only momentarily drift in that direction before anchoring themselves with some unseen force and returning to their previous locations.</blockquote>

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