POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

That wasn't the response he had been expecting. He'd imagined she might have pulled rank on him, or maybe brushed it off like she always had. But this was different, and it was more intimidating than the other two options. Did she really think that she was more of a basket case than he was!? He figured the amount of explosions and problematic decisions he'd caused would have tipped her off. But it seemed like she had stuff she hadn't even begun to unpack.

Tomorrow he would regret not telling her she was wrong, and he didn't kiss her right here. But no matter what he thought, she hadn't given him a yes, and he wouldn't hold it against her. Even vulnerable, she had his respect. He held his hand out for her to shake, and he had on a solemn look. "Friends," he told her, and when she shook his hand back, he continued with. "Just remember, if it doesn't work out with Indra, or you change your mind, you have my number." He had on his signature grin then.

"Now get out of here before someone asks why you're talking to me in nothing but a towel." She said, her usual control back. He gave her a salute, and he pulled his jacket around him tighter and made his way toward her door, before he stopped and paused.

"Once the Highlander is fixed, we'll go and probably die for a treasure most people could ever dream of...where have I heard that one before?" he said.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"Well, it's not on the level of my first rescue." he admitted, gathering himself. He had fallen from high places before, but this was an entirely new experience. "But I am improvising." The sand under him felt off compared to the grains of the desert. He found he liked it a bit better, actually. You could gain more traction on it. He tested it, raising his feet into the air and whipped them downward to send his upper body higher, making it to a standing position.

"I've never seen so much drinkable water in the same place." He said. He knew it was drinkable because 8 gallons of it had gone up his nose and into his throat and he was not dehydrated. "I had no idea it could be so destructive. Well, no sense on focusing on it now." He offered her a hand, and helped her up. The light truly helped. Even he needed some form of light to move around, even if it was starlight streaming from under a closed door. "Besides, how many other suitors have you had that helped you gain a magical staff?"

She shrugged as if to say 'he has a point' and said. "Well if you can get us out of here, then I'll be impressed. But this staff was just as much my doing as yours."

He pointed at her as if to say 'you have me there.' It was hard to tell what Amal considered serious.

They made their jaunt into the passageway. Unfortunately, Amal had lost his shamshir and scimitar in the waves, but his dagger had been held close as always. In the dim light of the low cavern, it almost looked as if it had materialized by magic, ironically. The tunnel led in a rough incline, Amal moving nearly sideways as he stepped continually up, dagger in front and face a mask of focus. He looked just as much of a cobra as the staff she carried.

Minutes later, he held his free hand up to halt her behind him. "Dim the light," he whispered. His voice held no room for argument, and she dropped a few grains of metal from her collected ball and the light grew softer, and as they moved she could see why the cutthroat had asked for it. There was another light past hers, shadows now dancing at the end of the tunnel. Vaguely, she could see Amal's figure looking through the tunnel's end, and he beckoned her forward.

The next corner held a cavern, with roughly hewed seats, flanked by stalagmites so high they nearly touched the stalactites that crowned the room. There were various wooden chests and sleeping cots, and three men sat around a fire and played a card game neither Amal nor Emmaline could decipher there, one of the men very clearly angry at the other two making a joke at his expense in Arabyan. Probably because he was the one that just lost a hand in the game. It was clear they were buzzed from the Arak they had been consuming, a traditional Arabyan spirit. The most important thing, however, was the loot they had accrued.

Copper and brass pennies from across the Old World were tossed together with Imperial silver Schillings and even Gold crown, along with the local Arabyan minted gold coins. Goblets and trinkets, earrings, necklaces, and even large pieces of artwork were all piled in what Amal considered the eastern edge of the cave, though of course he had no sense of direction below the ground. It was no Sultan horde, and truthfully it wasn't even fit for an Emir or bastard prince, but it was easily a few years worth of bandit loot. Amal could already tell these men were apart of the group that had attacked their caravan.

Amal placed a hand over Emmaline's mouth before she could speak, fearing she might whisper something that carried across the stones. He guided her back into the tunnel, her spell completely spent.

"How many men were alive when we escaped? A dozen? Half?" he asked her as silently as he could. Could the guardian of Asaph had killed all that had been pursuing them, or all that would make it back? Perhaps these three men were celebrating they didn't need to share this small trove with the others that had likely died in the sand. Next, Amal referred to those in the cave. "Wait here as I kill them," he breathed, though if she had a different idea or attempted to stop him, he wasn't gone yet.
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil hadn't had quite the relaxing time Taya and Sayeeda had. Though he had to say, it was better than anything Hahn would have for him. He'd eaten like a pig at a trough with the rest of the crew. Even Saxon had a small (in a word) place ordained for him to eat at the end of the table. A small spherical area had raised up from the ground, seeming almost to be a cage were he not stated to be a guest.

However, Indra and her parents had disappeared halfway through the meal, letting the crew eat at their leisure. After having nothing but dwindling rations, they had an incredibly satisfying meal. Once it was done, they broke out the drinks. And that was when Neil was grabbed by one of the servants and guided out of the room as Junebug and Taya were two bottles in, and Saxon had a reptilian food coma after having gouged five times the amount the other three had eaten, combined.

He found himself being taken to a balcony, where Gredorius stood, standing vigil over his realm as if he needed to watch it at all times. What followed was a conversation that had even Neil trying to behave. He made sure to stand up straight, clear his throat and even did his best to not scratch himself in less than public places upon his anatomy. It was odd, because he didn't know why the Duke was speaking to him, asking him about his goals, business prospects, and how good of a pilot he was.

And then he made the offer.

Cut to now, with Neil standing outside of Junebug's quarters akwardly. He had expected her to be in some manner of disheveled undress, but seeing her fit body in nothing but a towel had his eyes widen for a moment before he could rightly find the words he was trying to say.

"Sorry I wasn't around to drink earlier, but...seeing as you're Captain I thought I'd run by a big decision and...offer I was given by the Duke." He said, deliberating for a moment before continuing. "Once the repairs are made on the Highlander, he wants to hire us for a merc job."

"That's great news, but why are you bringing this up now and not in the morning?" She asked.

Neil took a deep breath. "In exchange, he'll double our 50,000, and make us both high ranking officers in his administration. He also will give you a specialized plasma weapon they have been working on, which I recommended. And he also wantsmetomarryIndraperherrequestandbeinductedintotheirfamily."

"WHAT!?"

"LOOK. I NEVER SAID YES!"

He realized they were both yelling at the dead of night. He looked around and then spoke more quietly. "Look..." He sighed and crossed his arms, clearly not in his usually smooth comfort zone. "I don't marry people I just met. Do I think Indra is cool? Yes. Hot? Everyone does. But I'm bringing it up and talking alot because I am uncomfortable with my next question which is, should I say no?"

"I know we never talked after Hahn, after the whole...thing before we got caught up with the Dervishes and I got the hoverboard. So don't bullshit me. Do you have a problem with his offer for me?"
@Penny

Why so many 18+ marked roleplayings?

You know 18+ doesn't mean just sex. There might be gore and foul language up in this bitch.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"Be grateful, patriarch, that she was not harmed enroute." Saxon rumbled threateningly. That certainly changed the mood from happy to ominous. Neil kicked the Hex's leg, in one of the areas where it was unarmored. It still didn't really harm the Xenos, but it made him slightly uncomfortable and he cast a baleful gaze at Neil. It was what Neil intended, because the pilot mouthed the words. "We. are. here. to. help." And he gave the most sarcastic smile one could imagine.

"I am grateful," her father said, looking past the Xeno's words, taking his measure of the crew. As he did so, Neil took his measure of the sweet plasma pistols the guards carried. They looked ion charged. Even wearing carapace armor, one would be hardpressed to survive a shot from one of those babies. He wondered why the guards were women, as well. Not for any sexist prejudices, but he hadn't expected a feminine culture when the father looked to be the one calling the shots.

"My name is Gredorius Fullwark, and this is my wife, Gabriella." He said, motioning a hand to the lovely well dressed woman, who gave a light curtsy. Indra had inched up closer to her father, as if to reel him in if he got too ambitious or angry at her saviors. Neil wasn't sure they were making a good impression, so he couldn't rightly blame her worries over it. The Pilot wore a black T-shirt he often loved, with a Mecha on it that said 'Metal as Fuck'. Her father didn't seem to mind, continuing. "Before I gather your names, what was the price my daughter promised you for returning her to us safely?"

"Fuel for our ship." Neil pipped in first, wanting to start off small. "Access to your shipyard and time to repair it."

"And 50,000 galatic credits for the trouble." Junebug finished with.

At that, Gredorius gave a menacing chuckle, though his face had not changed expression. "I see you're not greedy. Good, perhaps this will be a fruitful exchange."

Neil didn't know if the admiral looking fellow was fucking with them, but then he recalled that the mercantile wealth of any individual Island nation here was astronomical compared to most mid-tier worlds. 50,000 was a fair price for the Highlander, but just low enough to be mere pocket change for someone like Indra's father. "Come, we will get all of you situated." The man said, motioning them forward.

Taya practically bounced. She was all for a vacation, and she gave a curtsy of her own. "Thank you, my Lord."

"It is your Grace, but fear not. I can grant a small measure of leeway to rescuers of my daughter."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Amal watched, entranced at the spectacle for a brief moment. The serpentine seductress hacked off limbs and lashed out with her stone tail with the moves of a belly dancer, breaking legs with each twist of her lower half. She almost looked to toy with the men she hadn't killed in a manner that made Amal believe the statue was almost sapient. He wasn't certain if it had ears, but he would take no chance and he silently lowered himself and Emmaline, quietly bouncing off the pillar like a mountain climber lowering himself. Emmaline pressed her face into the back of Amal's thick head of hair so she wouldn't scream as he pushed off the pillar thrice until they made it to the ground.

"There's no way out," Emmaline whispered.

Amal placed a finger to her lips and nodded in the direction of where the statue had been. The ethereal lights within the chamber betrayed the location of a tunnel. Amal didn't know about his new companion, but a cutthroat's existence was about improvisation. Another door opens? You take it and hope you amuse Allah or whatever other God enough to curry their favor.

As they made their way across the room, they noticed snakes began to pour out of small holes in the stonework. Adders, Black Mambas, Cobras, and the like slithered into view and fell lazily to the floor if they were higher up, some simply gazing out at the two from their high perches as if it was a curiosity to see them die. Amal ignored them, his adrenaline pumping, keeping ahold of Emmaline's rope as they hadn't had much time to untie themselves.

The tunnel was lit only by the light that permeated the chamber, and it fed into a small cavern that widened into a great chamber of naturally carved rock, and they could hear the running water before they could see it. A small walkway made of marble, framed by terrifying figures of women with hair and fangs like Cobras, led toward's an ancient dock. Even Amal made a small gasp of relief when he saw the sight of the river, and a boat still within it.

He was suspicious of the statues, but luckily none of them came to life as they passed. They need only figure out how to leave, for the small oaken boat was not tied down, but fixed in its position by an ornate brass pole, carved in the likeness of a Cobra, small rubies placed in its eye sockets. He could focus on the jewelry once they escaped, but for now he placed his thieving hands on the staff and pulled to free the boat as Emmaline hopped in.

The Staff couldn't, wouldn't budge. Hard muscles from years of climbing and fighting grew prominent, but with all of his strength he couldn't move the staff. It was then when a great silhouette filled the chamber, and they both looked up to see the Guardian of Asaph, her swords and hips dripping in blood, appear at the entrance. She paused for but a moment, and then with blinding speed she charged their position.

Amal took up his Shamshir and held it aloft in a brave show to attempt to ward off what was coming, and with a last desperation, Emmaline grabbed at the staff, only for it to simply pop out of the water. The woman stumbled back into Amal and they both hit the floor of the small boat. No one had pushed off, however, and the thing was nearly upon them, was upon them! Emmaline held the Cobra Staff up at a vain attempt to guard a falling Scimitar...only for the blow to never come.

As the small boat floated deeper into the current, they saw the Guardian, once poised to strike, shrinking back from the Staff as if it were a stone wall. Amal looked between Emmaline holding the thing, and the Guardian, and then he simply let out a relieved laugh that echoed across the cavern. "Asaph favors a beauty with magic!" he exclaimed. "Particularly one with blood on her hands." Amal helped himself and Emmaline up from their fall, and he gave her a grin that showed his teeth. "Asaph and I seem to have similar tastes."

Any continuation of the shameless conversation was blocked out as the boat was suddenly swallowed up by a lightless cavern, and they were whisked off to Allah knows where into the mountains...
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Amal was no stranger to tombs. He had plundered them before, back when there had been a city wide search for him in Al-Hiekk. But most of them had open entrances one could find if they were clever enough, and whenever he found himself against something otherworldly, he had the good sense to flee from whence he came. That caution, however, fled when he saw the emeralds the size of small apples embedded in the beautiful woman's eyes.

Emmaline saw the hunger in Amal's eyes after a moment, and shook her head emphatically. The thief had looked as if he was about to scale the statue and pry them out with his dagger. The thought had certainly crossed his mind...

"You're right," he sighed, clearly annoyed at the misfortune of seeing a jewel he couldn't take. There would have to be consequences, yes? That was how all of the tales worked. There was also the small detail Amal, and Emmaline likely, knew of. Asaph was also the goddess of vengeance. Amal had enough bad luck at the moment. He wouldn't stir the wrath of an ancient pagan deity. Not without good cause at least, he thought as he gazed at the emeralds.

"Is there no way to close the entrance to outsiders?" Amal asked, hoping they could at least protect themselves from the bandits. His lovely companion shook her head, explaining that even if there was, there was no gauruntee of opening it again later. Amal cursed in Arabyan, and decided he needed to be pragmatic in a different way. If they couldn't escape readily, they might as well start to get in Asaph's good graces.

He nimbly leaped over the sunken pool, Emmaline watching as he casually made a jump most men would be fearful of. Landing easily, he made his way over to the simple stone altar, a square with the carving of a Cobra on its head. Amal tried to press down on it, but there was no pressure point under it. After a moment, he decided to beseech Asaph, giving a prayer to the Goddess with a dramatic air so as to draw her attention.

Nothing happened as he invoked her name, Emmaline approaching with her lit coin to provide light on if they missed anything. The stone around the large, odd statue looked as if it might be a door, perhaps. But it still looked solid enough to not budge, and Amal felt it was fruitless. "We are getting nowhere with this. We-..." he stopped, his eyes falling onto the coin. Inching his hand forward, he asked Emmaline. "May I?"

Questionably, she gave him the coin. He gingerly let it drop onto his palm, gripping it so the entire chamber was now pitch black. Whispering, he invoked her name once more, and opening his palm to bathe the room in light again, he dropped it atop the central altar. There was a loud thud, as if the coin weighed ten times it's normal amount, and the light was sucked out of the coin instantly. Amal stepped back, guarding Emmaline until the emerald of the statue shined like beacons in the darkness, lighting the entire room up.

As the room was filled with light, eerily there was now clear, pristine water in the pool they had passed. Amal shrugged, giving Emmaline a handsome smile. "I think all she needed was a little magic." he explained, but the moment of debonairness dissipated as a shout was heard down the corridor, and something heavy dropped against stone. They needed to act, and quickly. As the northern woman said, there was no way out. What to do...

Amal grabbed the rope he had kept coiled around his arm. "Pray to your Sigmah, or whoever it is. Your Renald? Either way." He remarked, and tossed a length of the rope around one of the pillars, having the majority of the rope clinging to his midsection. "Tie yourself to me and hold onto me."

"What?"

"Do it, golden one!" he snapped, referring to her hair. She did so immediately, realizing he had a plan that would likely help keep them alive, though it seemed like a longshot in such dire straits. Once she was tightly pressed to him, he began to climb the snake-like pillar, using the rope to help keep him steady and to use the friction to keep them stable. Up and up Amal went, his hard muscles like marble beneath Emmaline's hands.

"Do you know what you're doing?" She asked.

"If I know thieves," Amal whispered. "And I do. These men will not be able to help themselves..." As the scene below unfolded.
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"Well that's good news for me because I have been meaning to get a chance to fix the ship for awhile," Neil said, his mind now exploring the possibilities of working on the Highlander. Yes, mechs were his passion, but there was a class to fixing a starship that you couldn't match. He switched off the main power to let the ship slingshot toward the planet at the proper speed to gain the orbit velocity. To see the planet of Cylonieka with the lights dimmed was breathtaking.

It was a blue and green marbel, and Neil whistled. The oceans were vast. It was almost an ocean world, except for the innumerable archipelagos and a myriad of robust islands of mountains and forests. They looked to be the closest things to continents on world. Taya gasped at the sight, her hands clapping onto her mouth. "It's beautiful!" she said, before Lonney pipped in, detailing the planets basic aspects.

"Cylonieka. The surface is 89% water. The atmosphere is 76.01% nitrogen, 22.95% oxygen, 1.01% argon, 0.04% carbon dioxide, and small traces of other gases. Gravity is the galactic average. Main exports are seafood, Cyloniekan wine, textiles, and art. It has 4 moons. Vastus, Regonieda, Kulvor, and Rexus respectively."

"Military?" Junebug asked, and Neil listened more intently. He was interested too.

"The Island nations hold their own ground forces through fiefdom loyalty. They do not use the Corp organization, as they don't have sufficient landmass for such a large body of soldiers. They separate themselves intp separate divisions and, more rarely, regiments. They have advanced Anti-Air and Orbital defenses, and formidable navies. However, these are only in reference to the Island nations. The archipelagos are controlled by lesser militia or Paramilitary groups."

"Thieves and pirates," Indra spat, her full lips snarling in distaste. The planet grew larger on the display, and Neil suddenly realized the breadth of what the intrigue had to be like in such a divided world. Neil chuckled at Indra's words, though. "You act like it's a bad thing." He said, smirking. He turned the thrusters on for a moment to slow their descent, and within moments they were caught in the planet's orbit, taking a short time to float across the surface of the planet before they were above her home Island.

"Well, some commit acts with better style," She conceded, and then she gasped and pointed at the screen. "There!" She stood up and leaned forward, her large bosom pressed to Neil's shoulder, and suddenly his heart began to race as fast as it had when he'd been working on the mech, or last she smiled at him. She pointed at the screen. "There, see it? It's the one that looks like a crab from above. Do you see?"

Incredibly, Neil did see it, despite her long dark hair dangling in front of his eyes. "Yeah, but we need to stay in our seats for safety."

"Sorry," She said, and plopped down. "I got excited. I haven't been here in months."

"I'm excited too!" Taya said, and she and Indra began to talk about all they would do once they landed, Indra adding in the sights she wanted to show Neil and asking if she could watch him repair the ship. Neil had to pipe in. "We might want to add we have a Hexanagallion on the ship. He might be ugly, but he still counts. Let's tell your father's men not to shoot him."

"Oh, my father would probably want to hire him." Indra said, snorting. Neil could see the logic in it. Hex's made for incredible mercenaries and shock troops. Though Saxon was less...agreeable than most Hexanagallions. Sure, they weren't a race known for their happy-go-lucky attitudes, but Saxon worked alone, even away from others of his species. He was glad the Xenos wasn't in here now. He'd given up trying to squeeze into the cockpit corridor. "I'm certain he'll want to extort all of you to some extent, though he'll probably let up for you saving me." It was obvious she was exaggerating to a degree, but still something good to note. Neil placed in the codes Indra gave him, and phoned in the request.

As they lowered onto the planet surface, the world blew up in their vision until they could see nothing but ocean. Minutes passed as they slowly glided lower and lower until they passed a small mountain that scythed out of the surface of the ocean to reveal the sprawling palace of Indra's home.

Impressive spires of opulent design framed the location, with various circular pads to land on for any approaching ship. They could see their surface to air missiles lowering, having locked on only to be called off as the Highlander used the last of its power to lower and slowly land atop the highest landing bay of the Palace, unevenly clanking against the pristine surface as its module ran out of juice.

"Think they got bathrooms here?" Neil joked.
@Penny

The Elder Scrolls: Swords and Snobbery

Chapter 2

---

One Year Later

---

The land of Hammerfell is known for three things. Opulent wealth, vicious warriors, and heat the likes of which no one has ever dreamed. Markus had experienced the latter in spades, the former not at all, and he was about to see if it was true what they said about their fighters, for he found himself in a rather 'precarious position,' one blonde woman might have said. A woman he had known only for a brief time, but one that had saved his life, as he had hers.

"GET UP, you scum!" a rough voice ordered, drawing Markus out of his sleepless daze. The spellsword looked around the cramped waiting cell, seeing the other fighters in fear, some ritualistically scarring themselves to atone to their gods, as others simply seemed excited to shed the blood of others. Well, there was one thing Markus could say about the prisons in Hammerfell that was a stark contrast to those in Skyrim.

They weren't boring.

"Move! Move, you rats!" The jailer ordered, getting his goons to pick up any stubborn prisoners and whipping those who moved too slowly. "Get out there! The crowd awaits and they will get what they came to see! If you die with a clean sword, you'll not receive a burial. We'll feed you to the pigs!" The cries echoed into the weapons room as every man grabbed the weapon they felt most comfortable with. Markus was lucky his own sword was among the inventory, and he grabbed it before anyone else could.

Briefly, he wondered how he had gotten himself into this mess, but he remembered far too quickly. One of the local lords or satraps, or whatever they were called, had taken offense to him as a foreigner. True, Markus had not given the man a wide berth in the barroom and had killed two of his guards when they had tried to throw him out. He had never had a healthy trust in authority, and it had gotten him into this.

Now the lordlings father was outside now, watching the fighting pits and expecting to see the prisoners and slaves to fight their utmost best to survive. If Markus had heard correctly, they would not all be fighting one another at the same time. They'd be cordoned off to different fighting pits, killing one another or fighting animals to see who would make it to a second, final round, as even most winners died of their wounds before the last fight.

The shadows played off of Markus' rugged visage, the swordsman wrapping cloth around his forearms to help in case he needed to block without the use of his blade.

With their blades and weaponry handled, they were sectioned off and sent into different tunnels that snaked through the hard rock of the underground. Each had a guard behind them, dripping blood on their shoulders and holding a torch to guide their way towards the gate, though after a few steps it was easy to see. It was where the only light came from. As if on cue, the portcullis creaked open as Markus approached, and the crowd roared.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The Camel's hooves padded against the soft sand as they approached what Emmaline had spotted. She had fine eyes, Amal observed. It looked little more than an impression in the wall, though he could tell it was a door, being a thief accustomed to finding entrances and exits. The boulder at their back left looked like it was ever bursting out of the ground, and after a moment Amal noticed it wasn't the sand flowing that did it. It looked as if it had been speared into the ground many years ago, and the rock around the door having eroded by water or sandfall.

Speaking of, there was a small area in the rock to their right that seemed to perpetually leak a stream of sand. The small grains filtered into what looked to be a hole that led deep underground.

"Help me off," Emmaline said. Amal obliged, smirking at her curt manner as he eased her down to the ground. Amal hopped off with her, keeping the reins of the Camel close. They would be dead without the beast, or close to it. He reached into the straps on the saddle and pulled out the Shamshir he had taken, just in case. Emmaline meanwhile ran her hands over the strange doorway, trying to find a way to open it.

"This could be an old tomb," she reasoned.

"Or the bandits hideout, and it could be an unwitting trap." Amal replied, but he doubted it. There were no tracks leading here, and the bandits would likely have guards posted. Guiding the Camel, Amal approached the beautiful woman as she knelt down to take a handful of sand in her palm. She seemed to have deliberated a bit, before intoning words he had never heard before, waving her free hand above her outstretched palm as the sand began to gleam.

Taking in a deep breath, she blew upon her palm, and the grains of sand brushed into the stone. Suddenly, glyphs and runes, crimson as the sun flared. The Camel grunted and reared back as Amal watched in fear and awe as the likeness of a cobra surrounded the strange archaric writings. Even Emmaline seemed disturbed, and she hopped back to absent-mindedly clutch Amal's arm for a moment, though she never looked away from the door, as if daring it to harm her.

"What does it say?" She asked. Amal laughed, surprised. "You don't know? I thought you knew Arabyan."

"I do, that is not Arabyan." the blonde woman said. "Or not any I am familiar with."

Amal nodded, realizing his bravado at recognizing some of it while she didn't, caught him off guard. "I cannot read all of it, but when I was younger, my master had a mistress...She studied ancient scriptures of Nehekara, and I would see things she had read or written. She would perform these rituals..."

He shook his head, clearly trying to forget a morbid memory. The thief pointed at a symbol. "Asaph, Goddess of beauty, magic, and snakes." He said, and then he pointed at another two. "Tomb...Sanctuary..." His voice carried in the air as the wind suddenly died down, and suddenly both of them realized the sand that had been flowing had run out, and the stone doorway slid upwards as the rock foundations rumbled.
@Penny