Heirot

The dining hall was lavishly decorated. It was surrounded by gold pillars that held the fresco painted ceiling up. In between the pillars large panels of crimson satine flowed, moving with the gentle hot breeze. A long table sat in the center of the room, short and stocky. It was raised about two feet from the ground nad before each table placement there was a large crimson velvet cushion for the guest to sit on. At the head of the table there was a shair that was made much like the cushion, except it had a large back to it in the shape of an elephants head.

Many people already were sitting at the table. Most wore turbans of many different colors, some were even more oddly dressed. Eve, and the other two were seated close to the opposite end of the table. Next to the Maharaja sat Ahriman. There was an empty cushion next to him and one just across from him to the left hand side of the Maharaja.

"Please, join us..." the king said, bowing his head respectfully as he motioned for one of them to sit to the left of him.

OOC: I have no idea what I was talking about in my last post. It makes no sense to me... lol... And I'm going to try and get on here and start posting again.

Damien nodded with a slight arrogance in his motions. He took the seat next to the king. Though a little closer to the floor than he liked, Damien found th cushion quite comfortable.

Mi took the left hand cushion, knowing it was a test. "It is better to be on the right hand of a God than the left," her father had told her. "The left hand is distrust and dishonor, the right is loyalty." It did not mean that she was distrustful at all. It meant that she was below Damien and since he was the leader of there small group, he should take the right cushion.

"My lady, did you choose that seat for the reason I think you did?" he asked her, leaning over towards as if to share a private conversation.

"Damien should be the one to sit at the right hand of a God," she said, her cold blue eyes looking dead at the Maharaja.

The dark skinned king tilted his head in admaration and then turned his attention to Damien. "I hope you and your people enjoy the meal. Steak, with snake soupe and bread. For desert, monkey's brains."

Mi smirked as there companions seemed to almost lose the lunch they had had. Ahriman stayed completely clam however, glancing around the room with curiousity. "Sounds delightful."

Damien looked over his meal as it was revealed by the servants. "Yeah... delightful!" he said sarcastically.

Damien mused at how Mi referred to the Maharaja as a God. Hardly so. Damien allowed a slight grin to run across his face. "So where can we find good warriors around here?" Damien asked trying not to think about the food as it touched his tongue.

"Warriors can be found anywhere in my land, just depends on what style you are looking for. The Sword Masters of Alrangar are to the east of the Medibo Desert. The Tribara Archers are to the North. The Brethern of Arms are to the North-West. The Nightmen to the south. I recomend the Brethern of Arms, they speciallize in anything that results in a corpse hitting the ground." The Maharaja smirked darkly as he spooned the food into his mouth with a greedy expression.

"What of Magic users?" Mi asked, her cold blue eyes casting a dark glance to king.

"They are... as the wind. Never in the same place twice. It is hard to find a magic user when they do not want to be found," he said. "Though, the wind can be caught... if you have the right tool to do it with."

"That's impossible!" Eve proclaimed boldly. "The wind cannot be caught."

The Maharaja's expression fell, but suddenly was replaced by a cold grin. "It seems servants cannot understand metephore?" He turned his attention to Damien. "If you want to catch a magic user you must first offer something to perk their interest. How did you get your lovely Fire Mage?"

Damien glanced at Mi and then back at the Maharaja. A smirk swept across his face. "She found me," he said, "She couldn't resist being in the presence of true power."

He made a quick glance around at his comrades then down at his plate. "What of these Nightmen?" he pushed his plate away no longer able to stand the sight of the food before him. "Who are they?"

The Maharaja turned his attention to Damien and paused for a long moment. "Shadow warriors. Men who move like the beasts. Fast, efficient, under the cover of darkness or through the shadows of alleyways. Unseen until it is too late. To venture to there strong hold would ultimately be suicidal." He finished his plate and a turbaned servant took it away.

From off the balconies came beautiful dancers in scantly clad dancing outfits. They twirled, shifting their hips elegantly as they did there exotic movements. Looking like ribbons of silk blowing in the wind.

"It would be unwise to go to such a place, but if you happened to live long enough to explain you wishes, it would be benificial to you."

Damien mused at the dancers as they made their way around the table. One softly pulled her silk scarf around his face touching his chin with her fingertips. Damien winked at the elegant young woman.

"I believe I live to make unwise choices," Damien said to the king. His eyes stayed locked with the dancers as she moved serenly about.