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Invitation to a Party [Traveling]

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Khalik-I-Sabbah

Khalik-I-Sabbah
C-Tier
C-Tier

Had it been a minute or a day? A month or a year? Hands count what the eye can't perceive, so he simply left his body strewn about the plain, nestled in nice tuft of grass where the gentle winds stirred. Without a cloud in sight, the sun's temperate rays warmed the earth below. A fine day it was to laze about, yet something crept on the breeze. Sweeping and rolling, its papyrus form struck him deftly to mat itself against his face. The force left no physical impact, only a mental one as it jostled Khalik's mind from his carefree slumber. A disgruntled sigh escaped his throat before his fingers plied the faux face-hugger free.

His eyes wondered across the ink, noting that what stuck between his fingers was a news article and, judging by its yellow hue, its rather old. Nonetheless, he skimmed a word or two, really just one word in particular, "Meridia." His mind tarried on the name like awaking from a recurring dream— familiar yet hazy. Khalik arose from his beloved respite, his lips drawn in a grin. According to the paper; the journey was an arduous one, yet his feet move without hesitance. What called him forth? To whose drum did he step to? The answer is in those iron bells that toil...

By moonlight and campfire did he procure transport from a little encampment of bandits. How he managed to convince them to part ways with their ill-gotten supply was no small feat, for it took incredible restraint from the young I-Sabbah to firmly hold his tongue behind bars. After all, silence speaks volume when written in blood.


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