To Kill an Avriel
1st Ymiden, 723
There was something soothing about the Hotlands. Perhaps it was simply the familiarity and the comfort that came with it, but Khalfani felt at home even in the burning hot desert. It wasn't comfortable by any stretch, but it was home. For as long as he was exiled from Nashaki he would find comfort in this place. Until the day came that he could return to his home and weed out the tyrants that overlooked it now. Perhaps it would be some time away. But some day they would meet him again.
As he sat in the beating sun he played his flute, trying to find the note he was looking for. Eyes closed and simply enjoying the sound. The way the wind blew through the instrument to make a melody, even if his playing was worse than he had hoped. He'd been neglecting his practice in exchange for time fighting. To many it seemed the logical choice, focusing on survival and combat in a harsh landscape such as this. But Khalfani saw it differently. It took as much discipline to play the flute calmly and well as it did to learn to battle and fight. If he was to survive out here he had to train his mind the way he trained his body.
Unknown amounts of time had gone by already, the Avriel kneeling on a blanket that he laid across the sand while his belongings were bundled near him. This wasn't going to be his place to stay for the night, he would need water before long. But at the very least it was a place to rest and play. He had been travelling for some time, wandering. There had always been whispers of some local tribes in the Hotlands, some that might even be tolerant of magic. At first the Avriel had given no attention to this notion, as he didn't wish to drag innocents into his mission.
But what was the harm in finding some shelter and people to enjoy the company of, at the very least?
As he started to build up some confidence, playing the same basic rhythm over and over again, Khalfani opened his eyes as chatter was heard in the distance. Across some small dunes were four camels, each with a rider of their own. It was hard to make out much of the group from here, no specific details or even what weapons they had. But they were armed. Very few people that travelled the desert went without a weapon at their side. This place was unforgiving at best, going with no means of self-defense wasn't high on people's priority list.
After a brief moment, still playing his instrument, Khalfani noticed the people were getting closer. Not generally, as if they might pass by. But directly towards him. There was a moment in his brain of fear. Afterall, he was wanted in Nashaki for treason and camels were a common mount in the military. But these men weren't dressed well enough to be typical soldiers, nor did they have good quality weapons. Which meant they were either innocent civilians simply travelling the Hotlands.
Or he had a bandit problem on his hands.
Once the group was within range to hear his music two of them dismounted their camels, the other two keeping mounted. Yet as Khalfani removed the flute from his mouth his eyes glanced across the four men. All four had weapons in sheaths on their hips, easy to grab and remove. Bladed weapons, one-handed for each of them. Seemed fairly uniform, but it was the only thing about the men that seemed that way. Everything else was messy, they had no uniform on and they didn't ride in any type of formation.
"Hello, stranger" one of the men spoke aloud as he walked closer to Khalfani, the other close by his side while the final two stayed mounted and watched from a short distance. Khalfani looked up at the two and gestured a small bow. "Good day, friends. Care to join me for some music?" he asked as his hand instead gestured to the open sand beside him. Both men glanced to one another with a moment of confusion, before one of them drew their sword, Khalfani remaining seated as his eyes trailed to the blade.
"Cut the formal bullshit. Your food, your coin - hand it over and this doesn't get ugly. Your camel too, while you're at it" the man spoke. His voice wavered audibly as he spoke. It seemed the confidence of being four against one wasn't enough for this brigand. Khalfani remained seated for a moment as he looked between the four men, sighing as he lowered his flute down to the blanket he sat on, placing it down softly. "You'll find my belongings are of little value to you. Besides, it's a beautiful day out in the Hotlands, wouldn't you agree? It would be a shame to ruin it like this."
The other three men drew their swords as Khalfani's attempt to talk his way out of the situation proved futile. "Money and valuables, now" the other standing man barked as an order. Slowly, Khalfani rose to his feet. "Some trials, I wonder why I try. To make the world better" he admitted as he reached down to his belongings, the men watching intently as he pulled up his Palm Axe, the dual bladed weapon far from standard. "For every soul worth saving, there are four that will spit in the face of good intentions. Four who put their own self-interest above others. It's a shame, really."
One of the men stepped forward to speak, stepping directly into Khalfani's strike range. Perfect. With a turn and swing the palm axe slashed across his torso, faster than he could raise his sword as his three friends watched in a moment of shock. The slash was deep and cut through the torse with some ease, in thanks to the quality of the weapon and the practice Khalfani had using it. This was not the first man he had killed in his lifetime.
If the other three weren't smart, it would not be the last in this Trial.
As the bandit fell backwards screaming Khalfani reached for his Necromantic spark, a cloud of black miasma pouring from him as it attached to one of the other men, drawing the energy from him into Khalfani. "You should have taken my offer while you had the chance" he spoke with an almost disappointed tone. Just because he had killed before didn't mean he wanted to now. Friends were better resources than corpses, even with Necromancy. The undead made poor company, after all.
The two men on camels prepared to ride forward, yet both camels seemed frozen as the necromantic energy was present. While the riders were stupid enough to press the attack on a being that clearly possessed magic they did not understand the animals they rode were not. Khalfani looked down at the man he had already slashed to see him unmoving, vibrant eyes looking to the others. "Rise anew. Rise a true soldier of Nashaki!" he called out, the body starting to lurch on the ground as a Husk rose. Freshly killed and ready to consume the living.
"What the fuck are you!?" one of the bandits screamed out from a distance. At the sight of the dead rising, the two camels started to rush with terror, attempting to flee immediately. Both bandits tried desperately to hold on. While one of them was successful and started to ride off into the distance the other was kicked to the floor. The final thug saw his friend rise as a corpse close in front of him and focused his attention on the Husk, stabbing at it viciously.
An opening was present, both brigands distracted or immobilized, giving Khalfani the chance he needed. The Avriel rushed forward to the man that was fighting his new soldier, coming at his side. Seeing this, the bandit raised his blade defensively, Khalfani finding his hit blocked. But he continued to throw another, then another, relentlessly slashing at the man and his block. As he did so the Husk pressed forward, clawing and biting at the man, before eventually his defense was overwhelmed. As his weapon fell aside for just a moment Khalfani's palm axe sliced across his face and knocked him to the ground. The husk lunged and ended up atop the man, biting into his neck with a primal hunger.
As the final bandit rose to his feet he watched in horror as the second body went from a man being torn apart to a fellow husk, both rising at Khalfani's side. Meanwhile, the black miasma reached forth and latched onto him, beginning to sap his energy as he started to run. The two undead moved forward towards him, slowly, as what little fight left in him was drained. These men had disturbed his peace and had likely harmed countless others in the Hotlands. So he would give this man the illusion he could run.
But within moments he would collapse to the ground, body broken and hurting. This was what happened to the enemies of Nashaki. Slavers, bandits, anyone who would make the city worse.
This was their fate.
