A strong east wind blew over the desolate earth as Abelard raised his hands in supplication, having dropped his sword and staff. The light of the newly risen sun glinted off the spearheads, their edges sharpened to pierce both flesh and mail. A cry of curious demand in Stygian rose behind them. The two were quickly relieved of their weapons and taken to the camp below to be surrounded by harsh lancers, ebony tribesmen of fierce strength, and towering thugs of stygian strain. Out of the crowd poked Ibn-vakir who was short enough to step through the legs of one of the giants. He spread a smile of teeth the color of mule piss save for the missing teeth so far not replaced with any wealth. 

Two of the nomads had brought forth a wooden chair covered in skins that Khaseem Bai reclined upon, sitting as arrogantly as if he were the newly crowned king of Iranistan. In one hand he held his spear while in the other he nipped at an apple unfamiliarly, the fruit a strange sight in this unforgiving land. No doubt a sign of his fortune and prestige. He must be drunk on his own power if he thought that would intimidate Abelard and particularly the warrioress Anya. Even though he attempted to keep earthly matters from his mind, Abelard fretted the imminent fear of death in equal measure to how the smell of the pork churned his stomach. 

"How strange to find such two foreign jackals." Ibn-vakir said. His smile spread like the plague with his mustached pulled along as well. "Better kill these two quickly, my lord. We cannot have word getting out on the location of the Opal." 

Abelard laughed suddenly, one of the first times he had shown any emotion since meeting Anya. He grinned as feircely as any cimmerian barbarian. "You little fool, Ibn-vakir. You did not think we would ever meet with your precious master, did you? Khaseem Bai you are called? This one had already given me the location of the Opal, and had promised to deliver the same to this one beside me. He then wished to join the winning side and lied to you, telling you we were already in pursuit of the prize. He wished for your assassins to silence us, so that you may never learned he attempted to buy your trust with deceit." 

Ibn-vakir paled, the grog in his stomach finally wearing off on his mind. Khaseem Bai's face, at ease before, was now a mask of fury and disgust. With a simple wave of his hand he had two of the giants grab Ibn-vakir the wretch. 

"No master! He lies!" The thief shrieked in terror as he was rooted into the ground. Almost ritualistically, and it likely was knowing Set's laws, one of the giants took his belt knife and cut open Ibn-vakir's stomach. Blood and bile and a putrid stench erupted from his torn open belly. The thief sank to his knees, eyes wide opened in death. Despite himself, Abelard found it satisfying. His claim had also been a bluff without divine intervention, but seeing as Khaseem Bai did not correct him, his bluff had been correct and the warlord's side of the claims were confirmed plausible. 
[@Penny]