Amir al-Ahmar *deceased

[Gamemaster]

Amir al-Ahmar the Desert-rider & Sulayman his spirited red Arabian stallion

"Amir al-Ahmar? Yes, I have heard of him, though I doubt anyone beyond the deep High Desert has. There are many stories of him, but which are true, I cannot say.

It is said he is a bronze statue of a man, strong and hard as the desert sun. His eyes are black as coals, yet no man has ever seen his face, for he wears the aba and caftan of a desert rider with his keffiyeh pulled across his face covering all but his eyes in the style common among al-Badian horsemen. All his clothes are hues of scarlet, crimson, and rust. The Scarlet Prince they call him, for it is rumored he was once the chieftain of a tribe which the desert itself slaughtered.

Amir al-Ahmar is a skilled archer and carries a bow of red wood and black arrows with red feathers. If pressed to it he fights with a scimitar in each hand. So fierce are his strokes, that some men say his wounds leave marks like fire.

He rides a magnificent steed, a spirited red Arabian stallion who is as tireless as a camel. The al-Badia's constitution is no less formidable, and it is said he has crossed the harshest desert with little more than provisions for his steed and returned as fit and hale as when he left.

Amir al-Ahmar is not a man you would cross lightly. He knows only the law of the desert which is slow to forgive and quick to avenge. He calls no man his friend, yet those few who have travelled with him say they have never known a fiercer, more loyal or more dangerous ally."

Amir al-Ahmar carries the following special items gained during his adventures:

Ring of the Camel: In the words of the Sha'ir, Ali Afyal Ramaq beni Kasim al Gana who divined its powers, "...the ring is most interesting and rare... its wearer needs fear the desert no more than a camel does."

[Gamemaster]

Amir would also like to find out more about this pillar Khafaz spoke of where the jinn gather and visit it himself if there is time.

--
the pillar is a mosque- impossible to miss. The Oasis is small. The moon sets at 10:51 pm, which could make this night qualify... ("they meet on the darkest nights of summer") Give me some details of the how, when, should you choose to visit the mosque.

--
Amir finds a talkative old man tending sheep near the Oasis who's glad to have company on this night. His name is Dawar abd Asad, a slave formerly of Tajar.

"Khafaz ibn Dahz, yes, he's a man of business," Dawar said, giving Amir a look that bespoke his unwillingness to speak too freely with a stranger.

The chance to share a bit of gossip soon overcame his distrust of strangers. With just the right touch of sarcasm he said: "He'd never think of doing anything that wasn't in the best interests of his employer. He'd never, for the sake of example, do business behind Fahad al-Zakir's back, or fate forbid it, pass off inferior goods to the unsuspecting.

--
Amir sat, barefoot inside the mosque, just another devout seeker of enlightenment. One by one, as the sun sank below the horizon, worshipers finished their prayers and left.

An elderly Iman rose from his prayers and lit a few more lamps. The tiled floor, a brilliant blue and white after the sun-bleached desert, was soothing to the eyes. The old man paused momentarily, lamp poised ready to light another when all the flames suddenly flickered crazily as if blown by a gust of wind. The Iman glanced toward the stairs leading up into the tower, then lit the lamp.

"I see you have no apples," he said without turning around. "It is foolish to interrupt them, more so without this small gift. They have become accustomed to this triviality, permitting some to listen to their discussions.

Nobel traveller, fate shall provide you with apples and a few humble words of advice. I am confident that fate will then provide this mosque with a generous donation in that box," he pointed to a small coffer by the door, "over there."

Amir was given a plate of fine apples and the following words of advice: "They are continuing a centuries old discussion on 'how can any man born of earth claim to divine the true purposes of the gods?'" Choose well your words, and should you have something perceptive and of sound of judgment you might gain their momentary attention. Be warned, trivial musings are likely to be physically reprimanded."

With a parting embrace, the Iman continued: "May fate bless this humble mosque with many donations for its maintenance, know this traveller, there is a proper way to address the djinni." He whispered in Amir's ear: "Shining Swift Wind of the Desert"

--
Padding softly up the winding stairs, Amir could hear voices up ahead. He continued climbing, the light from the lamps below fading with each passing step.

--
High above the desert, in the uppermost chamber of the minaret, Amir found himself in the presence of three giants. They sat crosslegged, hovering above the ground, radiating an aura of nobility. They were fair skinned and dressed in robes and caftans of the finest silks and cottons and bedecked in a dazzling array of jewelry.

The plate of apples vanished and a cushion appeared against the wall beside the door. That was the only sign of them acknowledging Amir's presence. Amir took the profered cushion and sat, listening and waiting for an opportunity to speak.

A stunning female djinn leaned forward, gesturing with an apple that suddenly appeared in her graceful hand. "Man's ignorance is exceeded only by his desire to rut." She bit into the apple.

A djinni male, his ageless face perhaps playing the 'devil's advocate' countered: "But should the gods decide to touch him with knowledge... "

The other, a male, looked disdainfully at them both. "You are both assuming the aphorism is valid- I still hold that the key word is 'claim'. How can he 'claim' to divine. Its obviously a condemnation of false prophets."

--
"Shining Swift Wind of the Desert." Amir begins, his head slightly bowed. "It occurs to me there is another question here which may have been overlooked. How can the gods, born of immortality, claim to know the purpose of man? Perhaps the motives of men and god are not so different as you suppose. I have known men possessed of divine virtue and gods, or their immortal servants, ruled by the basest, earthly vices. Listen to my tale and judge for yourself..."

Having chosen his moment wisely, Amir merely fell under their disdaining gazes, not from the tower. No turning back now, he pressed on:

And with that, if the djinni will indulge him, Amir will tell the tale of Hammed, Amir's tutor and mentor. It was the wise old Hammed who first instilled in Amir the virtues which began to separate the young prince from the rest of his people. Hammed was kind and compassionate and subtly guided Amir to more enlightened thinking. Hammad risked his own life and limb by being so bold as to counter the teachings of the tribe's elders. Indeed it was the murder of Hammad at the hands of the Ahz'ahk's emissaries (poorly disguised as a retributive killing by a rival tribe) which was the turning point for Amir to defy the will of the efreeti lord. Countering the example of Hammad is the tale of Ahz'ahk and of his greed, cruelty and disregard for life and freedom.

"You debate this question as an idle pastime," Amir says, wrapping up his tale, "Yet it lives and burns within me always." Amir will assume at this point that enough of his tale or the intuition of the djinni has revealed his true nature to them. If not, he will dramatically emphasize his point by unwrapping his keffiyeh and revealing his heritage.

--
Until this moment they'd listened, faces unreadable, except at the name of Ahz'ahk; at that moment their visages were such that Amir fought the urge to flee. Revealing his face proved to have a similiar effect.
With a hiss of anger, the female was suddenly a white cloud of fury that flew at Amir. His face had barely time to register surprise before she solidified behind him, icy cold steel laying across his throat.

"I thought I smelled a burning soul," she said. "Which I shall quickly release. Her voice was a alluring purr that even when speaking of his impending death inflamed his basest desires. He understood now the saying: 'Beware the love of genies and peace be upon you.'

A voice spoken within Amir's head and he turned his gaze to the second djinni. "I shall hurl your pieces to the foul City of Brass, child of my enemy."

For a second that spanned a lifetime, Amir awaited his fate.

"Consider staying your hand a moment, Summer Thundercloud," the third djinni said aloud. "I am curious as to what boon he seeks."

"What then do you think of a man who would rid himself of his immortal nature and bring to an end to the one who planted that cruel seed within him? Surely he would be worthy of a simple bit of counsel to aid his quest."

--
"You wish vengence against Ahz'ahk?" Summer Thundercloud laughed, her breath on his ear inflamed his desire to... his mind was jerked back from its lusty wanderings at the realization that she was no longer there. She was back with the other's as if never having moved. Still, a hunger lingered...

The third djinni spoke to Amir. "The efreeti are our most hated enemies. For this, we shall help you. There is a lesson in this you must learn should you desire even a taste of the satisfaction you demand. Aim no higher than delighting in thwarting his plans and machinations for you are powerless against him. He is a nobel efreet cast out from the City of Brass for coveting the wives of the cruelest of all rulers, the Sultan of the Efreet, Lord of Flame."

Summer Thundercloud added, "Ahz'ahk is an abomination who dwells deep within the Pit of Ghuls. Should you ever be close enough to see his eye's of blazing coals, know that your corpse will soon be impaled upon his crimson horns."

In that moment of distraction Amir saw the second djinni return- he'd failed to see him leave.

The third djinni spoke one final time as the three djinn faded into wisps of air that drifted out the into the night.

"Your current quest should it succeed will greatly annoy Ahz'ahk." Followed by these words, almost too faint to be heard: "Beward the sealed gift bestowed and forgotten..."

[Gamemaster]

Late one windy night, during a shift of the watch, Amir rode to the crest of a dune. He spotted Yakhil above, riding the winds like a falcon searching for prey. Amir gave the faint cry of a just such a falcon and waved, imploring the djinn to approach.

After a few moments the creature folded its wings and dropped to a few feet above Amir, where it hovered, wings flapping blindingly.

Its expression was that of suspicion and annoyance. "Why do you call to me, efreeti-kin?"

Yakhil made it clear that he kept no secrets from his master. He said no more on the subject.

After hearing Amir's question: "There is a name, but I am loath to speak it. Such a one with a taste for human flesh. One who would not hesitate to destroy entire cities, much less a tribe if they dared to refuse his tribute."

The small air djinni whirled in the air, turning increasingly faster until it was nothing but a blur in the darkness. Suddenly, from the sands beneath it rose a small dust devil. It spun across the sands spelling out the name 'Ahz'ahk' one letter at a time, each letter erased by the desert winds as fast as it appeared.

[Gamemaster]

After Amir's outburst, when all is quiet later on, and others begin to settle into their tents for some much needed rest, Ya'qub locates Amir Al-Ahmar and quietly requests a private conversation.

Ya'qub finds Amir atop a nearby hill overlooking the camp. He notes that were the caravan threatened, Amir would still be within distant bowshot of his companions.

Hearing Ya'qub's footfalls in the dark, Amir turns to face the merchant.

"Ya'qub," he says calmly. "I am glad it is you who have come after me. You are the only one I know who could calm my restless spirit."

Excellent Amir," he begins, "I have no wish to question your ability in this, but I fear I still don't understand. I know you to be a courageous warrior, I have seen it first hand. Waleed, whom I'm still not certain I myself trust (after all, he could be a spy planted by the nomads...), mentioned a name that seemed to agitate you greatly. I dare not speak the name lest I become the focus for your wrath."

"My wrath?" Amir says with genuine surprise. "Did you think my anger was directed towards Waleed? Not so! Oh, curse this fire which runs in my veins!"

I could be your ally, humble though I may be, in this decision, but I would like to know more. Are these cities truly more fearsome than the serpent-thing? What is it that concerns you about him-whom-I-will-not-name?"

Amir al-Ahmar is silent for a long time and Ya'qub begins to wonder if the desert-rider's stubborness has returned.

"Gentle Ya'qub," he says in a soft, almost tender voice. "Only one man has ever shown me the kindness you have, and he died for it. Still, you have endured my stubborn will and blind wrath patiently even as I drew arms against your friend. I would have slain him, Ya'qub, if Fate had not deemed otherwise.

"You wish to know why Waleed upset me so and what peril I fear in Hulm. It is a long tale, and I will tell it to you in exchange for the kindness you have shown me. I fear, though, that you will find no comfort in it.

"Long ago a tribe of nomads living deep in the High Desert made a pact with a powerful efreet-prince to ensure their dominion over their enemies. In turn, the elemental lord sowed his seed among the tribe granting the riders unnatural power and collecting tribute through his mortal and elemental servants. By the time the last prince had been born, the decadent line of chieftains had lost much of its potency. Appalled by the examples of his fathers before him, this prince refused to honor the efreet's tribute and declared his people free of the beast's dominion. In fury, the efreet punished the prince and his people as the burning sands of the desert swallowed his entire tribe.

Fate saw that the prince alone survived the slaughter, for he was out riding the morning the efreet's wrath was loosed. That prince now wanders, a nomad welcomed by no man. And his name... is Amir al-Ahmar, the Scarlet Prince."

As if the horror of his tale was not enough, Amir suddenly loosens the cloth of his keffiyeh and lets it fall. Were he never to see it again, Ya'qub would never forget that terrible visage. Amir's face was still that of a man, but terribly wrought. The skin beneath his eyes was fine and scaled like that of a serpent, and even in the pale light of the moon, he could tell it was of a deep and dark hue. Even more frightening was his mouth which revealed teeth and fangs unlike those of any mortal creature the merchant had ever seen.

As swiftly as he had pulled it aside, Amir draws his keffiyeh back across his face, a look of pain, almost yearning in his coal black eyes...

Ya'qub averts his eyes, but not from horror, but from the immense sadness which wells up in his heart. So many things made sense now....

"Noble Amir, I think I understand now; the One-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named, he is the one who has cursed you thus?

Is your deisre, then, to travel to Hulm for revenge? If so, I must consider this cause, for there was never more just cause as the tale I have just heard...

Rest easy, I will not reveal your secret. I would ask that I be allowed to speak freely to you among others, keeping in mind my vow, even if you may strongly disagree with me."