Post by Saeren on Jul 2, 2006 15:10:41 GMT
Saeren traveled as a rich merchant would, in this part of the world. Cloaked, and booted, riding fine horses, with sumpter ponies for baggage, they crossed the desert land on the old trade road south west .
The roads across Harad were as old as Man, worn across desert, savanna, through jungles, to carry the lifeblood of this huge land, which was trade. Even through the endless intercinine wars, trade flowed, sometimes sporadically, but even at a trickle, it flowed.
Here the trade road hugged the coast, being swelled by people from towns, villages, all heading for the great port of Bozisha Dar, more commonly simply called '' Dar '' , camels stepped along haughtily, donkeys brayed, people drove goats, or sheep, their bells clanking, cartwheels groaned, here and there desert tribesmen swathed in white, rode with their fleet, desert bred horses, all drawn to Dar to buy or sell.
Caravanserai's catered for these people. Wherever a well could be sunk, they sprouted, providing smithies, rooms, penning for animals, food and drink, and endless gossip. Saeren and Lebennen, veiled like every traveller listened to it as their road wore away, bending south, until one day , opening below them, they saw the great, ancient port city,as old as the more northerly Umbar glaring white, its domes and spires crowding against the hot sky.
The huge bay, was alive with shipping from lands so far away, even Saeren had not traveled there: The Ivory Coast, the Slave Coast, the Seven Dominions, the Thousand Cities, fat bellied cogs, trade ships loaded to the boon with spices, silks, timber from the huge jungles, precious stones and metals. The air was alive with voices, different tongues, and colourfully robed men and women packed the old streets, incense wafted from temples, drums beat , peddlers shouted wares, entertainers danced or juggled, for copper rings, from streets packed with carpets, spices, brass and copper, scents of saffron and ginger and pepper rose.
Dar , Saeren knew, he had spent time here, so had Lebennen - but even long ago he had seen the potential in this huge, wealthy land, and had been able to do nothing, Sauron wanted it for war, and that alone, uninterested in doing anything else with it. Saeren was, and now he had the time and the opportunity.
He lead the way to a spacious inn, one used by rich merchants, and paid for rooms, which looked out, through carved wood screens, onto a courtyard where a fountain played. Closing the shutters, the noise from the streets became less , a bees hum, as a gold-skinned slave clinking with anklets and bracelets of silver and copper brought food, flat-baked bread sprinkled with poppy-seeds, soft, fragrant cheeses, fried fish and stone jugs of the tart wines grown on the vine covered hills south of the city.
Saeren tossed her a heavy silver coin as she left and her khol-lined eyes sparkled, as she looked over the men, tall, and obviously rich, and fairer skinned than the natives, and with that unearthly Elven beauty - and she jauntily, with a sway of her hips, and looking over her shoulder, left the room.
' I always liked these places , ' Tar sat back on the cushions, neatly crosslegged, as was the fashion here. He seemed in absoloutly no hurry, until evening came and they left the rooms, heading fr the glittering palace on it hill above the port.
They walked on, the roads widening, coming to the richer part of the city, above, on the cliff, overlooking the harbour, shone the gold domes of the Pasha.
Lights gleamed from rooms, and unerringly, he strode towards one. It looked like the dream of a desperate man, golden bodies in silk sheets, on pillows, hair jeweled and disheveled, perfume and incense . One man was enjoying all his profligate display of female sensuality, a man grossly fat, although slabbed with hard muscle under it, an oiled beard and ringlets, thick gold collars in the oily folds of flesh around his neck, and rings on fat fingers. Uwath, who had become ruler of this city, by coercion,and poison, and murder and intrigue, bribery and threat.
Saeren put a glossy booted toe on his rump , and said.
'' Still as much finesse as a bull, eh, Uwath? ''
There were shrill cries from the woman, who came to their knees, afraid, at first, until their cynical eyes saw the men there, mentally comparing him with every other man they had been forced to bed, and their aspect changed, to hunger, coquettish glances from under lashes dusted with gold.
Uwath rolled aside, cursing, livid, until he saw Tar, and then his face greyed, stiffened, his little eyes almost hid in their pouches of flesh, nevertheless were shrewd as he thrust the women away from him .
' Lord Saeren , ' his tone tried for gladness but the most stupid could have read his groan through it.
'' It has been a while since I visited, Uwath, ''
Uwaths eyes flicked from him to the other man.
Saeren went down in a hunters crouch '' How many sons do you have Uwath? Forty is it? All your ministers and councilors and captains All your sons? Send for them. Now, ''
' Lord, that will take time....'' Almost he whined, but his eyes were hard as black jet.
' Send for them, ' Pillars shivered in the coercive power of the psionics in Saeren voice, and the blood drained utterly from Uwaths face, hearing the whispering in his mind which promised more terrible deaths than he had ever meted out. ' I will wait, ' He leaned back against the wall as if prepared to stand there indefinitely. Uwath, goaded, bellowed orders as he thrust his head through a silk robe, ordered the women from the room.
Tar watched him, with those unfathomable golden eyes, like a cobra watching a rabbit.
He did not move, as the sons were called from their palaces, and ships, from their rooms here, some as obese as their father, some young and slender, some grim, and gnarled battered by seas and swords, looking, whispering at one they had heard of , but few had ever seen - who looked young to them, tall and too beautiful to be any son of the Dark Lord, but for those un-nerving, unhuman eyes.
Across them , Saerens eyes met Lebennens who had slid like a wraith to the double doors, his scimitars resting on his shoulders.
' well we are assembled, ' Uwath rumbled in his bass voice. ' what do you wish, lord? '
Saeren straightened from his casual stance.
' I want Dar, ' he said, coolly, and there was a dead silence before Uwath roared with laughter, his sons joining him.
' Ah, your lordship surely jests.. ever we have been allies, of Lord Sauron, your sire....' He pressed on the name, as if to drive home, ' Sauron, but not his son ' his eyes flashed '' but he never came here, ''
' No, I did, I have, and I have seen what I can do with it, ' Saeren said, light blurred in a double sweep of silver-steel as he drew his scimitars. Opposite him, Lebennen exploded into controlled violence.
It was not a battle, it was slaughter, Tar killed like an eagle stooping, like a wild horse galloping on the plains, it was what he was, it was grace and deadly power and skill, the speed and strength of his fathers blood forged into something which was terrifyingly brilliant, he simply killed, heads bounced on the marble, spraying blood, never one wasted motion, never one flicker of emotion crossing his face, until only Uwath was left, in the centre of the carnage, coated with blood, on his knees.
'' I will have Dar, ' one point tilted up his bloated face. ' And you will tell your people or I will have you spread out and raped by my war stallion. If you do this - I may let you live, '' blood trickled down Uwaths neck. '' Your choice, Uwath. ''
Trying not to nod in terror, in relief, Uwath trembling violently, surged to his feet. ' It is yours, Dar is yours! ' hysteria and madness surged through his voice. '' All I have is yours. ''
Saeren withdrew the blade, with a quick double-flick of his swords, to clear the dripping blood, he nodded.
'' You will send out the proclamations this morning, Uwath - and do not think I cannot read your mind and all your plans. '' he gestured to Lebennen '' We will now use your baths, old friend. '' he strode through beaded curtains, whence came a drift of scented steam, and called back, ' And have that mess cleaned , what do you think you are- an orc? '
The bath was huge, sunken, rectangular, scented with oils which made rainbow shimmers across the waters surface. Saeren and Lebennen casually stripped off their blood bespattered clothing, and stepped in to the water. Saeren plunged head and shoulders into it, the swirl of the water , coming up from natural springs drawing away the dirty water and replacing it with clear.
The roads across Harad were as old as Man, worn across desert, savanna, through jungles, to carry the lifeblood of this huge land, which was trade. Even through the endless intercinine wars, trade flowed, sometimes sporadically, but even at a trickle, it flowed.
Here the trade road hugged the coast, being swelled by people from towns, villages, all heading for the great port of Bozisha Dar, more commonly simply called '' Dar '' , camels stepped along haughtily, donkeys brayed, people drove goats, or sheep, their bells clanking, cartwheels groaned, here and there desert tribesmen swathed in white, rode with their fleet, desert bred horses, all drawn to Dar to buy or sell.
Caravanserai's catered for these people. Wherever a well could be sunk, they sprouted, providing smithies, rooms, penning for animals, food and drink, and endless gossip. Saeren and Lebennen, veiled like every traveller listened to it as their road wore away, bending south, until one day , opening below them, they saw the great, ancient port city,as old as the more northerly Umbar glaring white, its domes and spires crowding against the hot sky.
The huge bay, was alive with shipping from lands so far away, even Saeren had not traveled there: The Ivory Coast, the Slave Coast, the Seven Dominions, the Thousand Cities, fat bellied cogs, trade ships loaded to the boon with spices, silks, timber from the huge jungles, precious stones and metals. The air was alive with voices, different tongues, and colourfully robed men and women packed the old streets, incense wafted from temples, drums beat , peddlers shouted wares, entertainers danced or juggled, for copper rings, from streets packed with carpets, spices, brass and copper, scents of saffron and ginger and pepper rose.
Dar , Saeren knew, he had spent time here, so had Lebennen - but even long ago he had seen the potential in this huge, wealthy land, and had been able to do nothing, Sauron wanted it for war, and that alone, uninterested in doing anything else with it. Saeren was, and now he had the time and the opportunity.
He lead the way to a spacious inn, one used by rich merchants, and paid for rooms, which looked out, through carved wood screens, onto a courtyard where a fountain played. Closing the shutters, the noise from the streets became less , a bees hum, as a gold-skinned slave clinking with anklets and bracelets of silver and copper brought food, flat-baked bread sprinkled with poppy-seeds, soft, fragrant cheeses, fried fish and stone jugs of the tart wines grown on the vine covered hills south of the city.
Saeren tossed her a heavy silver coin as she left and her khol-lined eyes sparkled, as she looked over the men, tall, and obviously rich, and fairer skinned than the natives, and with that unearthly Elven beauty - and she jauntily, with a sway of her hips, and looking over her shoulder, left the room.
' I always liked these places , ' Tar sat back on the cushions, neatly crosslegged, as was the fashion here. He seemed in absoloutly no hurry, until evening came and they left the rooms, heading fr the glittering palace on it hill above the port.
They walked on, the roads widening, coming to the richer part of the city, above, on the cliff, overlooking the harbour, shone the gold domes of the Pasha.
Lights gleamed from rooms, and unerringly, he strode towards one. It looked like the dream of a desperate man, golden bodies in silk sheets, on pillows, hair jeweled and disheveled, perfume and incense . One man was enjoying all his profligate display of female sensuality, a man grossly fat, although slabbed with hard muscle under it, an oiled beard and ringlets, thick gold collars in the oily folds of flesh around his neck, and rings on fat fingers. Uwath, who had become ruler of this city, by coercion,and poison, and murder and intrigue, bribery and threat.
Saeren put a glossy booted toe on his rump , and said.
'' Still as much finesse as a bull, eh, Uwath? ''
There were shrill cries from the woman, who came to their knees, afraid, at first, until their cynical eyes saw the men there, mentally comparing him with every other man they had been forced to bed, and their aspect changed, to hunger, coquettish glances from under lashes dusted with gold.
Uwath rolled aside, cursing, livid, until he saw Tar, and then his face greyed, stiffened, his little eyes almost hid in their pouches of flesh, nevertheless were shrewd as he thrust the women away from him .
' Lord Saeren , ' his tone tried for gladness but the most stupid could have read his groan through it.
'' It has been a while since I visited, Uwath, ''
Uwaths eyes flicked from him to the other man.
Saeren went down in a hunters crouch '' How many sons do you have Uwath? Forty is it? All your ministers and councilors and captains All your sons? Send for them. Now, ''
' Lord, that will take time....'' Almost he whined, but his eyes were hard as black jet.
' Send for them, ' Pillars shivered in the coercive power of the psionics in Saeren voice, and the blood drained utterly from Uwaths face, hearing the whispering in his mind which promised more terrible deaths than he had ever meted out. ' I will wait, ' He leaned back against the wall as if prepared to stand there indefinitely. Uwath, goaded, bellowed orders as he thrust his head through a silk robe, ordered the women from the room.
Tar watched him, with those unfathomable golden eyes, like a cobra watching a rabbit.
He did not move, as the sons were called from their palaces, and ships, from their rooms here, some as obese as their father, some young and slender, some grim, and gnarled battered by seas and swords, looking, whispering at one they had heard of , but few had ever seen - who looked young to them, tall and too beautiful to be any son of the Dark Lord, but for those un-nerving, unhuman eyes.
Across them , Saerens eyes met Lebennens who had slid like a wraith to the double doors, his scimitars resting on his shoulders.
' well we are assembled, ' Uwath rumbled in his bass voice. ' what do you wish, lord? '
Saeren straightened from his casual stance.
' I want Dar, ' he said, coolly, and there was a dead silence before Uwath roared with laughter, his sons joining him.
' Ah, your lordship surely jests.. ever we have been allies, of Lord Sauron, your sire....' He pressed on the name, as if to drive home, ' Sauron, but not his son ' his eyes flashed '' but he never came here, ''
' No, I did, I have, and I have seen what I can do with it, ' Saeren said, light blurred in a double sweep of silver-steel as he drew his scimitars. Opposite him, Lebennen exploded into controlled violence.
It was not a battle, it was slaughter, Tar killed like an eagle stooping, like a wild horse galloping on the plains, it was what he was, it was grace and deadly power and skill, the speed and strength of his fathers blood forged into something which was terrifyingly brilliant, he simply killed, heads bounced on the marble, spraying blood, never one wasted motion, never one flicker of emotion crossing his face, until only Uwath was left, in the centre of the carnage, coated with blood, on his knees.
'' I will have Dar, ' one point tilted up his bloated face. ' And you will tell your people or I will have you spread out and raped by my war stallion. If you do this - I may let you live, '' blood trickled down Uwaths neck. '' Your choice, Uwath. ''
Trying not to nod in terror, in relief, Uwath trembling violently, surged to his feet. ' It is yours, Dar is yours! ' hysteria and madness surged through his voice. '' All I have is yours. ''
Saeren withdrew the blade, with a quick double-flick of his swords, to clear the dripping blood, he nodded.
'' You will send out the proclamations this morning, Uwath - and do not think I cannot read your mind and all your plans. '' he gestured to Lebennen '' We will now use your baths, old friend. '' he strode through beaded curtains, whence came a drift of scented steam, and called back, ' And have that mess cleaned , what do you think you are- an orc? '
The bath was huge, sunken, rectangular, scented with oils which made rainbow shimmers across the waters surface. Saeren and Lebennen casually stripped off their blood bespattered clothing, and stepped in to the water. Saeren plunged head and shoulders into it, the swirl of the water , coming up from natural springs drawing away the dirty water and replacing it with clear.
