Lut Gholein

Callera walked amongst the gathered wagons, bidding farewell to several of her companions while on the trip, and helping others unload their goods. Warriv was speaking to a handsome man in fine silks and a turban. They seemed to be glancing in the Amazon's direction during their conversation.

They were in Lut Gholein, the 'Jewel of the Desert'. While it could certainly be called a diamond in the rough, it was still not flawless. In fact when Callera had been a mercenary in these parts, she had more to worry from within the city than from without. Cutthroats, dervishes, and assassins lined every corner. And Callera had traditionally been hired by every one of them.

Callera shouldered her pack, wincing from the pain in her abdomen. She moved on however, knowing weakness would be something she couldn't show in this town. Walking towards the center of town, she moved with a swiftness that belied her casual nature. She wouldn't be cajoled into standing still for too long. Urchins slunk about the dilapidated ruins of the town's structures, waiting for a mark to make a slip.

Finally, she arrived at the bazaar and she was assaulted by the sounds and sights that perpetually pervaded the center of this city. Merchants hawked their wares, while the aforementioned street rats wove in and out of the crowds, coming away with other's purses.

In the distance, Callera saw her destination. A young woman of dusky tan skin stood over an anvil, pounding out the dents in a shield.

Callera approached the blacksmith, knowing the former paladin would recognize the Amazon long before she greeted the woman.

And as if upon cue, the blacksmith said without looking behind her, "Welcome Callera, how may I help you?"

*

Fara got Callera a room at the "Desert Rain Inn", one of the less reputable places in the city, but also one of the few that would house Callera on such short notice. It was also one of the only places to give her a room, considering her past 'affiliations'.

The city knew about her. They knew her mother was a monster, both literally and figuratively. They knew about her being the last of her Tribe. They knew she had come to Lut Gholein several months ago, and had been hired as a powerful mercenary, who would do most anything for money.

They knew about the incidents that had prompted her to leave Lut Gholein in the first place. They, well, knew her. Better than most did. And for that, they feared her.

Fara was a gracious woman, who had been one of Callera's only friends in this town, and she had gone to the crimson-tressed blacksmith on countless occasions. This was how Callera knew of the 'paladin's' empathic ability. Fara sensed the intents, and auras of those around her. It was much like the Waterbearer's ability to see through the 'Mind's Eye', something Callera had lost the ability to do some time back.

Callera was looking out over the city, as the sun was setting far to the west. The shadows of the city's buildings elongated by the moment, and gave new territory to the night's population. Sconces were lit about the streets, trying to push back the inevitable darkness, but to little avail. Still, guards and merchants alike would huddle about the lamps, for conversation, or business. And always with a glimpse over their shoulder for the night's inhabitants.

Callera noticed a particular light was flickering, and seemed about ready to extinguish itself.

Someone knocked on the door to Callera's room. Her head spun about, sending her loose hair flying across her face, before she realized the sound was not one of impending doom. Evil rarely knocks.

Callera put her hair back into a topknot, before heading towards the door. She glanced behind her once however, back down to the street. The light had been put out, nothing but glowing embers now.

Sliding a dagger into her wrist guard, Callera opened the door slightly, to see who stood beyond.

There was a guard from the city, decked in shining metals, and vibrant silks, and behind him another man, wearing a cloak.

"Who goes there?" Callera asked warily, never taking her eyes from the cloaked stranger.

"A messenger of Lord Jerhyn milady." Said the guard in bored, monotone tones.

Callera let the door open some more, allowing the guard and the hooded messenger in, but still, her eyes never left the man.

She suspected Marius, or Everett Call had found her. They had come to slay her once and for all.

The messenger pulled back his hood, to reveal the flawless face of Lord Jerhyn. He nodded once to the guard, who excused himself from the room, leaving the Sultan and the Amazon alone.

He had a smooth face, one not lined with wrinkles or scars, and had deep, penetrating eyes. He was without his turban, or luxurious silks, and was instead dressed in rags and tattered clothing. Callera could see his noble upbringing despite his charade. He was too finely groomed, and handsome to be anyone but nobility.

He raised a dark hand to his even darker, black hair, to slide his fingers through it. Callera noticed the man's hands had signs of wear on it. His calluses showed him to be a man who wrung his hands often. While he was able to keep a calm, and collected smile, he was a nervous, worrying man.

"Welcome Callera of the Vrin-Latti. I was eagerly awaiting your return to my fair city." His voice was soft and
welcoming. He was a diplomat, no doubt about that.

"Thank you Lord Jerhyn. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Jerhyn smiled briefly, flattered, but not about to be caught up in comments he heard quite often, no doubt.

"I trust your wound heals quickly?"

Callera only now recalled that she wore little more than a pair of breeches, and a undershirt, and she quickly turned about, to find a spare robe. Jerhyn nobly turned his eyes from her while she dressed herself further. She answered during this exchange however.

"Indeed, better by the minute. Apparently Warriv could not, in fact, keep his word about-"

Jerhyn turned to face the still naked Amazon, unashamed of her state of dress. "Nay milady, he spoke no ill word against you. All the town knows of your exploits, if not of who you are. The Slayer of The Maiden of Anguish. Andariel's Bane. The Wounded Soul... You are the stuff of legends. My people admire you greatly."

"They did not seem so admiring this morrow, when I walked amongst them." She replied curtly, intrigued by this new development.

"They... do not know you. They would stone you if you said you were Callera. They believe her to be ten handspans tall, with blazing unkept hair, and finely toned muscles-.... perhaps they are simply blind?" Jerhyn smiled to himself while admiring the Amazon's body, realizing that these 'outrageous' claims were in fact quite accurate.

Callera was sick of this idle chatter. "Lord Jerhyn, why do you come here this night?"

Jerhyn's smile quickly fell, as his mind turned to the situation at hand. "Recently, a wanderer passed this way, with his manservant. Many tell me it was the Horadric Mage, Everett Call, and one of his students, but whomever it was, he was no human. And he visited my palace..."

Callera was alarmed at this turn of events. Call had already been this way. She was too late perhaps?

"...I had previously asked some of the... harem, guilds to join me in the palace. I thought the women might be more at ease in the palace, and well... I don't suppose I need to further explain?" The young man was clearly ill at ease on the subject, but Callera would not let him off so easily.

"What do these two events have to do with one another? Or me for that matter?"

"While this Wanderer passed through, a mage, calling himself the Great Mage Horazon, came to me, telling me of how he had left a portal to his Arcane Sanctuary in the basement of the palace. Thinking my city and myself honored by the presence of these great mages, I let him in.

"Everyone in the harem has been slaughtered. Half of the city's guards are dead. Servants, maids, everyone in the palace that night was slain. Except for me."

There was a great amount of guilt, and sorrow on the Sultan's shoulder's, but the Amazon was still not certain what this was about. His answer proved hard to swallow however.

"Among the harem girls, one was missing: Scheherazade, my... personal favorite. I know it is trite of me to request this, but I was wondering if you could enter the Sanctuary, and find this girl-"

Callera was already pushing the man from her room.

"Milady Callera, if you would only allow me to explain further-"

"Lord, I am on an important quest. The sake of our world may be at stake, and I need to reach Kurast as soon as possible. I cannot be off searching for lost trollops."

Jerhyn exhibited some strength Callera had not sensed however, and stopped her from pushing him any further. Her hands found corded muscles, and a tightened grip on her. She could not remove his hands from her arms.

"You need a boat to go East. Meshif has the only running ship at the moment, all others have been lost at sea. I have informed him he may not leave until I say so. He is under my jurisdiction, and would not risk my ire, by setting sail."

"So this is blackmail then?"

"It is... a business negotiation. You find this girl for me, preferably alive, and I will tell Meshif to set sail for Kurast as quickly as he can, with you aboard."

Callera stood still for a moment, no longer struggling from this man's grip, and contemplated his words. He could have that guard kill her in seconds. She had committed atrocious crimes in this town before, and it was not out of his power to exact justice upon her. And he was willing to aid her in her journey, if she would only do this small favor for him.

Callera's eyes narrowed as she nodded curtly in answer to his request. The friendly and warm smile returned to Jerhyn's face immediately, but it did not reach his eyes, which were still calculating and full of sorrow.

"Great, now let me tell you what this girl looks like..."

Harem

Bile rose in the Amazon's throat as she examined the entrance to the Harem. A large blockade of bodies, and body parts attempted to prevent anyone from pushing further into the palace, though Callera could see at least one path that made way for a passing adventurer. She was not the only one to come this way recently.

Pushing aside an eviscerated limb, she headed deeper into the chamber, noticing that some of the bodies were partly eaten as well as torn limb from limb. Something down here ate people, just as often as they stockpiled them..

She quickly located the stairwell to the second basement level of the palace, and before she descended them, she readied her equipment. Her wound was tender against the chain mail covering her body, but she was going to swallow her pain long before her pride. Her brow was adorned by a simple helm that forced her to wear her hair long, hanging down her back.

Holding Razortine before her like a walking stick, she moved further down the stairwell.

An explosion of movement caught her attention as several decayed and rotting bodies came careening towards her, their hands and eyes aglow with the eldritch light of magic. Bolts of magical energy flew by Callera's head, whizzing by mere inches from her helmet, before dissipating into the walls around her.

Shoving out the butt end of her trident, Callera smashed through several of the bone mages in quick succession, sending them to the ground as nothing more than dust and bone chips. A flame bolt smashed into her back, heating her chain mail immensely, but not directly harming her.

Spinning Razortine before her, she could shield herself from their attacks with the trident, all the while sending it out for the occasional jab to destroy one or more of the mages. In scant seconds, the mages did not move any longer.

Knowing this place would likely be riddled with enemies, and if she remained in one place that she would be overwhelmed, Callera began running through the hallways. Her trident was always before her, spearing anything in her way, and she moved with a fluidity that came with years of training among the Tribelands. Soon, Callera was no longer truly conscious. She was entering a state of being that allowed her to move autonomously, the perfect warrior who was unable to make mistakes in the heat of combat.

Unfortunately, this state of being made it hard to fight alongside companions, as they became just as likely targets as friends. Luckily for Callera, she had no such diversions at the moment.

Watching as if from afar, Callera was enraptured by the sight of her body stopping in the middle of a lush chamber filled with bone mages and invaders. Her trident flew all about, a whirlwind of movement and flying death. Following with some of the tactics that she had learned from DiStephano, Callera leapt about the room, jamming her weapon into some of the hardier monsters, and felling them in one swoop.

She was the perfect killing machine. And her perfect enemy loomed ahead.

It was now some time into the palace, and Callera suspected she was no longer actually in the Harem itself, but rather the Palace's Basement. Her foe stood before her in a room otherwise devoid of life. Lightning laced about the creature, up and down it's arms, and across it's multitude of legs. It seemed to be waiting for Callera to move.

She did. Leaping up with a yell, she thrust Razortine out before her, planning on impaling the creature.

Instead the lightning leapt up from the ground, and sent Callera rocketing into the wall to her left. She fell to the ground with a pained grunt, but she brought herself to her feet once more.

The creature continued waiting for her movement, lightning coursing along its limbs.

Callera darted to the creature's flank, planning on running circles around it. Her trident was before her once more, and being thrust forward. Lightning snaked it's way up from the ground to strike the trident, and searing the Amazon's hands. Her trident was sent across the room, smoke rising from it's tarnished tines.

Callera watched this in slow-motion, her unconscious being starting to unravel, before another lightning bolt arced into her, sending her to her feet.

Callera was ripped from her 'out of body' state-of-being outright, to a crushing reality. Wounds she had accrued but not felt now stung as if someone was rubbing sea salt into them, and she knew several of her bones were broken.

Looking through her misty eyes, she noticed her many-limbed opponent was in fact a young woman, with dark skin and auburn hair. Her body was lean, and toned, and there was little doubt in Callera's mind that the woman was in fact once a harem inhabitant. She had emerald green lip and eye make up, plus some robes of the same shade that did little to hide her full body. These robes hung about her legs in tatters, lending the vision of a many-legged foe.

Callera pushed herself up with her arms, but made no move for her lost weapon. The woman before her still had lightning flaring about her, and it was now reaching her pained eyes.

She was injured.

Callera's eyes scanned the woman's body, until she saw the three bleeding wounds in the woman's side. Her robes were stuck to the wound, and seemed damp with her lifeblood. They were perfectly distanced from one another, and Callera soon realized that the wound came from a trident. Her trident.

"I am sorry." She said to the woman, ashamed at having let herself go into that frenzy.

A blast of lightning lit the room, and Callera was once again slammed into the wall behind her. She was not so quick to get up this time.

Above her, she could hear the woman approaching. In a dialect that was not common to the Aranoch Desert, she spoke. "So am I." Lightning flared up all around her, and Callera screamed.

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