[center][i]Two scoundrels I see, a thief and a liar. Haughty you feel, but I will see you will die by fire! 
You've more to worry of than hunger and thirst. Mark my words, for thine is cursed! 
Blood red rubies you have taken for your own, within my vault of clay and bone. 
Asaph may guard you, and Ranald holds you high, 
But ware Settra the Imperishable, [b]FOR MY VENGEANCE IS NIGH![/b][/i][/center]  
[hr]
[i]5 days later...[/i] 

Amal awoke with a start, the words of the Tomb King echoing in his mind before they faded into nothingness. When he realized he wasn't face to face with the mighty king of old, he relaxed. It wouldn't be the first time he had been cursed by a dead man, though admittedly it was the most powerful deadman who had cursed him up to this point. So far the only real problem was the dreams, but with five rubies the size of his fist? It was worth it in his humble opinion, and he reached behind his pillow to pull one out, marveling at it once again. 

He sat up now, sweat glistening off of his bare chest. The thief turned to gaze about the small cabin they had procured for themselves, finding Emmaline still asleep on her small cot, the day out of the window grey and lifeless. It was times like this he missed the unrelenting sun of Araby, but they had both agreed that angering the Tomb King was a sign they should leave the country for a small while. What with the Emirs and likely the Sultans after them as well, and with a hefty prize of priceless rubies they could sell on foreign markets... 

The handsome Arabyan slid out of bed, moving as quietly as if he had intention of stealing something. He gazed out the window and drank in the sight of the vast ocean before him, the waves weaving about, up and down in strange patterns so much like the dunes of sand he had grown up in. Amal had been at sea before, but never to another land! Short trips on bare Arabyan boats were a farcry from this large, wooden and iron ship they found themselves in. 

El Cargador was it's name, a large Estalian Frigate that made its business transporting goods and manpower to and from its homeland to varying nations. It was by pure luck Emmaline and Amal had found the ship just last night, having stumbled out of the desert half starved and covered in sand. It had been grounded on the barren coastline for repairs, and nearly shooed or shot Amal and Emmaline before Amal gave the captain one of the five rubies, and their hostility quickly changed to steadfast friendship. The two had been given baths in the Captain's quarters and feasted with the crew and a few other rich travelers, having been given this small, out of the way cabin to use during their trip up north. Marienburg was the next destination. Amal had no idea what to think, but Emmaline promised they'd find good prospects there. 

Pushing away from the window, Amal treaded back to his cot to check his things only to pass by the room's mirror and realize he was stark naked. He almost laughed, imagining what Emmaline would think if she awoke when he was simply strutting about. He slid on his newly cleaned, still somewhat finely made clothes he had gotten back in the markets. He heard her stirring lightly as he wove his sash belt around his waist, still yet to put on his vest and light jacket. His muscled back was turned to her if she looked, and he spoke as if he had eyes in the back of his head. 

"I hope your dreams were less trouble than mine, princess." He remarked, adding the last name playfully since that was her disguise. A lost princess of the Border Princes, and her Satrap companion who had been forsaken in the wastes after a vicious attack on their caravan by a djinn. The vest and jacket befitting a highclass Arabyan were on in a matter of seconds, and he ran his hands through his incredibly thick head of dark hair. Checking his belt to make sure his dagger was on hand, and the magic ring still on his finger, he glanced her way. 

"I'll check on how long we're to remain cooped up in here." He said. "Maybe if I am lucky, I'll find something good to drink or smoke. Perhaps see a mermaid or two, eh?" The young thief gave a wink and stepped out into the hall, the boat shifting beneath his nimble feet. He hoped he was getting used to the constant movement. So far, so good. The hall was spartan and bland, as they were located on the lower decks of the ship. The further up one went, the more the halls had horses carved upon door frames and bronze tapestries and paintings of various city states array to marvel at. 

Amal leaped up the stairs four steps at a time out of habit, having had to do so on many chases through the city. Two levels up he nearly bowled over one of the other guests, sir Brenly of the Empire. A portly man almost never without his comfortable robes and monocle. He had strong hands and had likely once been a great warrior before old age grey his mustache and ached his bones. Once Amal was face to face with him, he guffawed heartily. 

"Ah, Satrap Ahar! Fine morning to see you." He said, seeming an earnest man. He wouldn't survive three hours in Al-Haikk, but in some way he respected the man's forthright manner. "I was just seeing if these Estalians had any of that strange brew they call coffee. Are you going to the mess hall?" 

"Simply to find the Captain," Amal replied in Reikspeil, smiling. "Have you seen him?" 

"Yes, yes, Captain Deigo is topside getting the men spurred into action. Apparently it will storm the next few days. Dreadful if you ask me. But what's life without a little excitement?" 

Amal could not agree more. 
[@POOHEAD189]