The sound of steel clashing on steel could be heard off in the distance.
It was still a good amount away, but the captive new what it could mean.
Freedom. He had been enslaved for longer than he could remember, held
captive by the old men with their grabbing hands. Eagerly, the captive
stood tall in his cage to look over the tents towards the fighting. Deeply
tanned men and women alike were fighting his captors, the turbans on their
heads a clear mark of distinction. These were no ordinary raiders, but the
People of the Sand themselves. Known far and wide for their ferocity and
unique style of fighting without weapons. In the midst of fighting there
was a swathe of open land with a single man standing in the middle. He was
short of stature and build, but he had a commanding presence on the
battlefield. As the guards rushed towards him he fell each one with
sweeping blocks and kicks as he moved with the wind. Dust storms raged
about him has he fell the guards one after another. The captive was in awe
of what he was witnessing. Hurried whispering could be heard from the tent
closest to the captive, the old men inside were old for a reason and knew
when to flee. Then came the man and his People of the Sand. As the man
walked amongst his people, each one in turn made a hand gesture and bowed
before him. The captive feared that he was going from one enslavement to
another, but despite this he remained standing with his chin held high in
defiance. The man approached his cage, chuckling softly. Looking at the
captive Half-Elf, he too made a hand gesture and bowed before the captive.
A sign of respect. All of the cages were unlocked and the captives given a
choice. Freedom or service. With freedom one can do anything they please,
but in service can one truly find their meaning and purpose in this world.
Upon exiting the cage, the young Half-Elf followed the man into the
distance, across the Endless Wastes.
Description:
A deeply tanned and lithe man is here before you, a white turban trimmed
with gold and silver has been wrapped tightly around his head, preventing
any hair from being visible. His face has such complex beauty to it yet
remains utterly passive and completely serene. Shockingly green eyes keep a
vigilant watch about him as they constantly sweep back and forth as he
observes his surroundings. High set cheekbones and a strong and narrow jaw
create angles and shadows that can sway the heart should he desire it so.
Despite his ravishing beauty there is a slight haunted look to his eyes, a
sadness to be exact. Ghosts of days past still haunt his mind yet he still
stands with the posture of a statue, his chin held high. He is dressed
plainly in a loose-fitting attire and the only parts visible are his hands
and bare feet which are calloused and roughhewn.