[center][color=firebrick][h3]Sorcerer-Lord Alkhazar[/h3]
The Many-Faced and Most-Splendid Master of Zar Endal[/color]
[/center]

The Master's eyes flashed open with a start, beholding the blue-dyed drapes around him and the wooden bowl of a thick black liquid before him through the slits of his carnival mask which now bore a slight frown marring it's features. Confusion reigned for a second as the mage-lord regained his senses and recalled where he was. Ignoring the insolent cramp afflicting his legs the Master sought that which had wakened him from a most vivid and wondrous dream. 

[i]And what a wondrous dream it had been![/i] Fueled by ingested ichor, Alkhazar had delved into another realm where he had born witness to a vision which even now painted itself across the halls of his mind. He had stood upon the precipice and beheld the sight of two great birds, their claws interlocked in a fierce struggle for superiority atop a high tower. One had been as black as pitch and the other of the purest white, their feathers slick with blood as ashen raindrops fell all around them from a swirling vortex in a magenta sky. Their cries had challenged the raging winds and that was all Alkhazar had seen before the tower and the birds had fallen away like wet paint and the waking world reclaimed him. 

[i]I wish to return.[/i] The Master resolved as his senses focused, seeking out that which had awoken him. An irritated thrust of his hand clawed aside the blue drapes to reveal the wide expanse of desert beyond. The Master's eyes danced over the scarred slaves bearing the poles of his palanquin and the slave-drivers with their barbed-whips to settle on the rider leading their camel alongside his grand palanquin. Alkhazar recognized the rider as one of his [i]Faceless[/i], a member of his personal entourage of guards and lieutenants who garbed themselves in a vast array of colours and a carnival mask in imitation of their Master. The Faceless stared at him, awaiting permission.

"[color=firebrick]Speak.[/color]" The Master uttered, his voice silky yet suffused with a barely restrained irritation. 

"[color=lightsalmon]My Master, may the deserts take me for troubling you. We near Zar Vorgul.[/color]"

And just like that the rider and their insolence lay forgotten as the Master's mask turned to regard the grand walled city of Zar Vorgul ahead of them. A pang of jealousy shot through Alkhazar as he compared the sprawling city-state with his own Zar Endal, drinking in the city's size, it's high walls and the tower sitting at it's heart.

Slinking from one sight to another, Alkhazar's gaze returned to the army marching around him. They were a black jagged line against the red desert, a legion of ragtag slave-soldiers and mercenaries on the march as an inhuman cackle echoed above them on dusty winds.  

The Many-Faced Master in all his splendor had arrived!