Iddin: "At last I free you from your bindings, spell. Be free until I once again call upon your power."
Iddin locks eyes on Zarif, seeing the rider's injuries. It is finally time to show these devious creatures the power of Zuzu. Perhaps, then, they could regret their wretched existence in their final moments.
Iddin strides purposefully to Zarif, preparing his spell. His staff is carefully waved in arcs alongside his steps, the wind melodically rushing through glass tubes. The whole movement creates a bizarre rhythm, some call completely alien to his fellow mercenaries. Sand whips into the air as Iddin takes his final stride and swings his staff to but an inch before Zarif's chest. "Let Zuzu grant his mercy and heal your wounds with the flesh of his own creation!"
The sand flies mercilessly into even the most minor of injuries and cauterizes them with intense heat. The grains melt to glass to fill in where skin, muscle, and bone are absent. And with a glimmer of light reflecting the sun, the glass is gone in a moment and replaced with the very parts it was replacing.
Iddin turns to Ashür, eyes sharp with condemnation. "The words of pathetic deities are achievable by even the most disgusting of scum. They fall before the greater gods, still."
Iddin moves three tiles to 16-26, healing 6 health for Zarif.