Ash-Born...the single most degrading term known to the people of Planet Samarra, used to describe a men and women born without a caste, destined to a life of hard labor as a slave or given the choice to escape the civilization and become common bandits, thieves and cutthroats, most choosing the latter.
So was the unfortunate fate of Bassam Hussaini, a warrior's son by right, a slave by circumstances, marked as a servant of the rich even as he was floating peacefully inside of his mother's womb. His birth-stars designated him to follow a certain path, right from the moment when his father lost everything in a game of dice, his house, his caste, his wife, and his unborn son, and even his self respect.
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The mighty snake-eagle soars over the skies of Samarra, the vast desert laid below him, spreading all the way to the horizon, so featureless and inert, yet so dark and intimidating. With every flap of the snake-eagle's crystalline wings, the mountains resonate as if they sing out an awesome prayer to the Anunnaki and Sky-Wolf. As the snake-eagle disappears into the horizon, the silence comes, the mountains take their well deserved rest, and then the silence is broken again...
"Harder! Work harder you worthless Ash-Born scum! The debris is not going to move itself!" - Yelled the Slave driver, as he hit young Hussaini who gasped, exhausted by dehydration and the searing heat that whipped across his scarred back, stronger than the whip itself that his skin chose to ignore even a few years ago, when all sense was lost from the sore spots and only numbness remained. With his last atoms of strength, Bassam lifted his arms and stood up, looked upon the skies of his world, his jailer and his safe-keeper, the only place he knew.
He prayed to be taken away to the Anunnaki's eternal city, every night when the flickers of light were present all over the night sky, he prayed so hard, that he had forsaken his more than needed rest. He was different than the other slaves, he was thin and fragile, but his eyes showed unquestionable determination and his body withstood tortures unimaginable. Even the Drivers noticed this, and that's possibly why they treated him harder than the others, going to the edges of human cruelty, only to break his spirit and strength once and for all.
Even though one couldn't see it, the Drivers were managing to do what they intended more and more every day, and he thought the Gods had forsaken him, that his prayers did him no good, even the doubt of the Anunnaki's existence was starting to appear in his tortured mind.
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~ ~ ~ ~
A day like any other, a day that makes the concept of hell look like a refreshing river, searing heat combined with slashes of a whip, the skin soaking in the hits like sponge would absorb the water. Bassam was young, but he felt so old that day, he felt like he lived through more than an old war veteran, or an old sage, that would tell tales at the bonfire, when the slaves are resting. He was ready to give up everything, to give in to the provocations, just so he could die, and end his life of torture. He stood up, to the surprise of the Slave Driver, and looked him straight into the eye, spread his arms wide, silently saying "Just end it, I won't do this anymore, end my torture". As the Driver got his rifle out, and aimed for his head, Bassam's whole life flashed before his eyes, all the scenes of torture, death, suffering and some that weren't his own, and a smile finally showed up on his face, giving in, finally travelling to the Eternal City.
Even though the seconds seemed like hours, they lasted a bit too long, Bassam opened his eyes, and instead of a Driver, he saw a thin figure in red ornate robes and a hood covering his face, twisting the muscular slave driver's ankle and making him kneel, almost looking as an otherworldly visage in his display of unnatural strength...
As the robed man held the Slave Driver by his wrist, he gazed upon him in surprise, and instead of trying to defend himself, he immediately recognized the High Priest of the Temple, lowering his head and beginning to beg for mercy with a series of unintelligible cries. The priest released him, and he quickly ran off to his tent, tripping over rocks and debris.
Bassam stared at the priest as his robes were moved around by a sudden surge of wind, he looked intimidating and almost inanimate, as he watched the Driver run and trip, perhaps even drawing some pleasure from the sight. A few seconds after the Slave Driver finally made way into his tent, The Priest suddenly took hold of Bassam's hand, and with no words said, he started to drag him over the hot sands, and despite Bassam's resistance, the determination of the priest and his stamina couldn't be shaken, he kept dragging him over the sands to an unknown direction, as if he was a ragged doll.
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"Who is this man? Why has he saved me? Has he saved me, or does he have even more unpleasant ordeals instored for me?" - Bassam thought as he was mercilessly dragged over the sands for two full hours, now fearing this priest more than he would fear the slave driver's whip, or the searing heat of the merciless sun.
After three hours, Bassam already gave up struggling, his ragged clothes were torn apart and his skin was full of miniature cuts that he received as he was dragged over the sands. He was about to pass out, but suddenly, the priest stopped on the top of a dune, pointing at a structure, some 200 meters away. “That is our destination” – he said calmly and placed Bassam on his legs, expecting him to walk on his own now, slowly moving away…
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Bassam was tripping and falling as he followed the red-robed priest, exhausted by everything he went through that day, but steadily approaching the structure. As he finally reached it, a text written above the massive structure’s equally massive doors was apparent, but it was written in an unknown language, a language that could never be spoken by a lowly slave such as him, yet he understood it clearly. The text said, “The Cloister of Anu, Enter all whom seek Knowledge”. He was tempted to run as fast as he could, reach the nearest settlement and earn his freedom, but, something was calling him inside, something was demanding that he enters, a voice, an emotion. He pushed open the massive door, and felt the intoxicating smells and the luring sounds from within…
The doors of the massive structure opened with a slam, revealing a large chamber with dimmed lights, full of bookcases and terminals, almost all occupied by monks and priests, whom were now staring at this newcomer who disturbed their studies. The red-robed priest who entered before him approached Bassam with a steady step, and gestured to a staircase which seemed to spread to infinity as it climbed towards the top of the massive structure. "Upstairs, your presence is requested" the priest stated with a hint of arrogance in his calm voice.
Having no other apparent choice, Bassam started climbing the stairs, holding the handrail firmly, as if it provided him some comfort. The feeling he felt in front of the Cloister got stronger, the messages sent to him more clear, it was clear that he was approaching the source. The intoxicating vapors of the blue river grasses used in the cloister had mind altering effects which were more apparent to those who did not gain tolerance to them, and Bassam's climbing was getting more insecure by second.
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He was slipping and tripping as he was getting more and more intoxicated by the vapors, and the voice always getting stronger, no, not a voice, an emotion, a thought, a demand. Suddenly, through the haze, he spotted a door before him, he looked down, and realized that the place he entered ins't visible anymore, lost in the rows of staircases, for he was at the top of the tower in which the cloister was located.
The door was decorated with ornate artwork and a golden case on which those "unknown" symbols were carved, this time saying "Emotion, Thought, Action, Unity". Bassam reached for the door, his hands now seemingly not controlled by his own mind, and opened them revealing a medium sized chamber, with an altar and a brazier in the middle, a person in black robes behind it, a strange mask covering his face.
The man started to walk towards Bassam, the doors slammed shut, the words "Welcome Home" echoed in his head, the drug intoxicating him even more, he lost contact with the world, falling unconscious...
Swirling thoughts, dreams, revelations and emotions, all fused into the fabric of a multicolored vortex spinning into infinity, revealing deep points of space and time. In this place, time has no apparent use, but again what is time? An artificial construct, set to go ever forward and never back, there is no need for such crude limitations, when the mind is free. Free from the mortal shackles that kept it at bay before, swimming peacefully in the vortex, touching and feeling every thought, emotion and idea stored there, being one with the universe. As the vortex spins ever faster, it's so easy to let go, to finally travel to the Eternal City, to be free, at last.
But then, the colors fade, the vortex disappears and darkness kicks in. The pitch black sea of insecurity and remorse, anguish and betrayal, where thoughts, smells and sounds cease to exist. But in the complete darkness, one flicker of light remains, being so far away it can be barely made out, but as it gets closer, it becomes more bright and beautiful, and then it reveals itself. It's one unified thought, one unified emotion, one unified action, The Mindshare...
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Suddenly, Bassam awakens, but not in a bed, or in a sleeping position, instead, his body covered with sweat, running through the desert. He would stop to look around, but his legs wouldn't respond, he would move his arms some other way, but they aren't obedient, he would scream, but his mouth stood shut, no voice to be heard, only the tireless stomping in the endless night. Struggling was pointless, his own body wasn't his own anymore, it had a new owner now, and he was ravenous, moving towards a small settlement, the smells of home cooked food luring him...
Cozy homes, cobbled streets, warm light shining out of the carefully placed lampposts, drawing all kinds of travelers and would-be adventurers into the town of Redwater, conveniently placed on the west bank of the River. Everyone's asleep, except for the tireless patrons of the Sandworm Inn, where they spend the cold nights gambling, drinking or perhaps in a company of a fair lady.
Suddenly, the doors of the Inn open widely, revealing a thin figure wearing a leather outfit made out of Qanna hides, a common desert wear among bandits, and a black hood, never commonly worn by anyone, due to certain superstitions seeded among the common folk by the Temple. The patrons of the Inn stopped yelling and laughing for a minute to scan this newcomer, but then quickly resumed with their 'business'. The thin man occupied a free table in the corner and oddly enough, a meal he never ordered appeared on his table, much to everyone else's surprise. He, however started to feast on the delicious treats provided to him, with a speed that made him look as if he hasn't eaten in days, or even weeks.
"My my, you certainly can eat. Wasn't my first guess though, when I laid my eyes on you." - Commented a charismatic stranger that was conveniently taking a seat near the thin man, despite that no-one invited him there.
"Hah! He's probably one of those freaks from the deep wastelands, the ones that starve themselves to appease the Gods. What's your name, tiny?" - Spoke a large beast of a man, that for a second looked like a bodyguard of the other one.
The thin man put away his food, seemingly satisfied, he wiped his mouth before he finally spoke - "Our name? Our name is Hussaini, Bassam Hussaini, and we're here on private business."
"Who's "We", you're the only one there, son." - the large stranger made a remark - "Are you some kind of a psycho? Maybe we should kill it, huh Jared?"
"No, there's no need for that, he seems to be a bit confused. Forgive our rude nature, we forgot to introduce ourselves - I am Jared Nomak, and this big guy there is Adrian Thrax, my brother in arms." - Nomak paused for a second and cleared his throat before continuing - "We're what you'd call...Bandits? Or desert raiders, it doesn't matter. We make money how we can, and we just happen to be hiring. Would you be interested by some chance?" - Nomak grinned as he waited for Bassam to respond.
Bassam grinned, and stood up - "Me? Become a Raider? Why, that isn't a possibility right now. See, I'm on private business, the kind of business your kind should stay out of. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go."
"Our kind? What? Freak." - Commented Adrian as the duo watched Bassam leave the tavern and disappear in the night...
Two weeks have past since Bassam stepped out of that Inn and left the Redwater settlement, the stubborn sun has finally decided to take its rest, and give its place to Quamar who's subtle light reflected against the crystalline sands. Wrapped in his leather cloak, Bassam pushed through the dunes relentlessly, the desert critters and beasts running away in his wake. Finally, he stopped on top of a rock formation stirring out of the sand, and gazed upon an ancient Ziggurat, concealed deep in the desert, not to be found by human expeditions, yet bones and corpses of unfortunate pillagers laid scattered in its area, presumably killed by still functioning trap mechanisms or crippled and finished off by the various carnivorous beasts that roam the deserts...
Few would dare to enter these ancient monuments of the disappeared alien civilization, especially now that the Temple officially proclaimed all ancient ruins not yet inspected off limits. To every other trespasser, being caught by the Zealot patrols in such a place would mean public mutilation, being set as an example to others, but Bassam, or rather the "new Bassam" had nothing to fear on that side, being a vessel of the Temple itself. What he did fear however, were the ancient but still functioning trap mechanisms scattered through the sands, and stumbling into those would mean a slow, but certain death. He proceeded towards the entrance, carefully scanning every inch of the sands, and keeping to the route carefully mapped in the collective memories long ago stored.
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The stench of decaying corpses covered the area, drawing the small scavenger creatures closer and closer, who were so reckless that they occasionally set the traps off themselves, shrieking in pain, an amusing sight to observe, some might say. Bassam however was not overly distracted by this, making slow but certain progress to the Ziggurat's main entrance. Ignoring the crudely opened entrance holes made by the pillagers over the years, Bassam went straight for the large door, that looked as if it was placed in the foundation, of the structure, after so many years of sand storms that slowly covered it up.
The massive door was marked with scratches and explosion marks, probably made by some inexperienced looters that tried to force their way in. Bassam grinned to that, and reached down into the sands, triggering a lever that opened the doors with a slam, air racing in and sands collapsing. Bassam descended carefully over this newly created slope, and made way through the corridors into the hall beyond. Decayed terminals and data pads, made out of unknown alloys were scattered all over the hall, everything remotely valuable removed by generations of looters that made their way in through digging and mining.
In the distance, faint voices were heard, and Bassam approached carefully to examine them...
Power of choice is indeed a great force, and sometimes even the smallest actions we commit, reflect on the future so much, that the world is never the same afterwards. If one could have the insight, to always make the right choices, to know if it's a good idea to go outside today, to give a coin to the beggar on the corner, to not forsaken the ones in need of help, then that person could achieve everything, and fear nothing...
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"Hey Dirk! Someone is coming! Please, help us! We're trapped! Get us out! Please!" - Yelled the two people trapped deep inside the ziggurat.
Bassam approached to examine them, spotting two skinny looters, their hands full of goods they managed to salvage, trapped inside a powerful force-field cage. Beneath them was a pressure plate, triggered only when a considerably heavy object, or person steps on it. Being so skinny and starved, the pressure plate could never be triggered by them, but the considerable amount of loot made it possible. A small screen on the wall was frequently changing symbols, resembling a timer...
"Well, well. What have we here?" - Bassam walked around the trapped looters. - "Funny how greed can change one's life so considerably, or rather, end it."
The two looters looked at each other with a confused look on their face, before starting to beg again - "Please good sir, release us, we'll repay you. Look, we have so many goods, just take them! But get us out! Don't leave us to die here!" - The looters dropped on their knees, but still holding a firm grip on their goods.
Bassam stopped going in circles and stood right in front of them, starring right into their eyes. - "You do know, that entering the Ziggurats is prohibited by Temple laws?" - Bassam grinned - "Perhaps I could let you out, if you tell me exactly what you were doing here..."
The looters nodded to each other - "We were hired, sir. By two Raiders, they went deeper into the Ziggurat, we stayed behind to...uh, collect our payment."
"Unfortunate" - Bassam said as he started to move away from the cage, deeper into the temple.
"Bastard! You can't leave us here! You promised!" - Screamed the looters as Bassam was moving away.
"I promised nothing. You're good as dead anyway, no point in wasting my time on a lost cause" - The small screen went blank, beeped a few times, and the cage compressed, crushing the looters inside it and leaving a gory mess behind. Bassam shrugged it off, and disappeared deeper into the darkness...
Have you ever thought that there's something malevolent lurking in the dark shadows? Something hidden, similar to the superstitious ramblings and stories made to force disobedient children into submission? Perhaps you have believed in such tales, and perhaps you didn't, but, one thing is certain - The core of almost every rumor or legend told and corrupted over the generations, consists of nothing but solid truth...
The legend of The First was a well-known tale on Samarra, speaking of an ancient civilizations guided and uplifted by the Anunnaki, whom they worshiped in the peak of their power. Their downfall occurred the same day when, in their vanity and greed, they considered themselves greater than their Gods, rebelling and turning their back on them. Punishment was swift, they vanished within days, leaving behind their vast underground cities and temples, or that's at least the only explanation provided by the Temple. Occasionally. a mad drunkard would spread dark rumors speaking of intelligent but foreign whispers in the dark, deep inside the old ruins, where shadows play tricks on human eyes, where many venture but never return...
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Bassam quickly forced his way through the grim and narrow corridors, skillfully evading the trap mechanisms, going ever deeper inside this decayed monument of a civilization passed. Faint lights indicated that this structure's power source is still very much operational, and that some systems were still working. Beside the ornate decorations of the First spanning the walls of the halls and corridors, some other pictures and paintings were evident as well, tribal signs of hunt, war and despair, painted with something that very much looked like human blood.
Bassam had already noticed that he wasn't all alone in this ruin, and that beside him and the expedition that went deeper inside, there were other creatures. Always looking from the dark, shying away from direct contact, sneaking and letting occasional shrieks out, hoping to ward off this unwelcome visitor, but to no avail. Further in, a cave in blocked the entrance to the next section, a dead pillager crushed beneath it, his blood covered face displaying his last expression as he was dying, shocked in terror. A bit further left to the cave in, a small cave passage was revealed, going deeper down into this massive complex, possibly to the very center.
Bassam inspected the passage which reeked of decaying corpses and was stained with thick green slime. He took a deep breath and started his descent, easily sliding down with the help of the obnoxious slime that covered it. The descent didn't even take one minute and Bassam landed crashing on the floor of the grand chamber beyond. He stood up and regained his composure, seeing a sight that would probably take every man's breath away and leave him staring at it for hours, but alas, he wasn't a mere man, and was not very impressed.
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Grand buildings built into the cave walls, grand towers and small buildings all built from the same black obsidian-like material that shimmered as the artificial light shined from the rock ceiling. Everything preserved, still untouched by the greed of men, and protected from the wrath of nature, here deep beneath the rock and sand. The only thing that corrupted this magnificent sight, were large rows of cages and contraptions clearly designed for the purpose of torture, or worse, and were still stained with blood of various creatures and humans, random limbs laid scattered around the scene. One cage however, still contained two living humans, passed out from blood loss and possibly fear. Bassam inspected them, and seeing their faces brought a slight grin to his own, seeing that they were those same Raiders that approached him in Redwater, Adrian Thrax and Jared Nomak. Mighty raiders captured like beasts, left to rot and die, it was clear that he needed to release these useful individuals, who would owe him a service later on.
He gripped the crude metal bars and ripped them out, grabbed the two men by their arms and started to drag their unaware bodies towards the exit. However, the noise of metal crashing attracted the dwellers of this ancient structure, the creatures who held them captive. Hideous centipede-like creatures started racing out of the caves, their relentlessness only matched by their hideous looks. Bassam observed this situation, and while he was looking around, the chamber became filled with thousands of these creatures, all holding some primitive weapons in their "hands". He didn't need to remember the Temple's pictures and documents to identify them, to know what these creatures were, everything about them was stored in the collective memories, everything is the same like a thousand years ago, except their nature, which was now primitive and bestial.
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The impulse of the collective filled his body as he stared down these creatures, immense rage filled every inch of his body, his eyes started glowing with a red glow which resembled a flame, a glow never seen before. He charged the creatures and as he opened his mouth to yell, the incubi stirred out, opening up and letting a fearsome high pitched scream. The First started to shriek uncontrollably, loosing themselves in a mad frenzy, some running away tripping over the others, other attacking and biting themselves, and soon enough, none of them were left in the room, none alive, at least.
Bassam stood victoriously over the massive field of corpses for a second, and then returned to the two Raiders, who were still unconscious, he grabbed them again and dragged them slowly, towards the surface...
Rain. That doesn't sound like much to ordninary folk around the universe, a frequent event that doesn't bother anyone, perhaps brings out a gloomy mood in the population, but that's about it. But, on Samarra, it almost never rains. When it does fall however, it rains for many days, the hungry deserts soak up the water, and the entire planet, starts teeming with life. Plants, that lay dormant in the sand for many decades, emerge, and the entire landscape is transformed. Many people never have the priviledge to see this in their entire lives, but those who are lucky enough can only stare in wonder. This event marks the beginning of a new era, an omen of great things to come...
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Dark clouds permeate the Samarran sky, and roaring thunder breaks the desert silence. It's been raining for a day now, and hints of green are starting to appear among the dunes. On top of one of the dunes, inside a large tent placed on a rock outcropping, Bassam tended to the two injured Raiders he collected from the ruins earlier. "Their wounds were grave, but they will survive." - He thought, as he rubbed in a hand made poultice over their woulds, before re-applying the bandages.
The rain had changed its pace to a light drizzle now, and will proceed to fall as such for several days, and Bassam realized it was a good time to start a fire now. Suddenly, his train of thought was interrupted by familiar screeching sounds. "A family of giant desert rats" - He thought. "Food" - was the next thought that came to his mind with lightning speed as he set off to investige. The rats were large creatures, particularly bloodthirsty and feral, and these ones had the same intentions as Bassam, - to feed.
Upon detecting him, the beasts started circling Bassam, growling and screeching, saliva dripping from their gaping jaws. He was not intimidated by this sight however, as he knew that only simple manipulations were needed to overcome this "threat". A simple command, *** ~paralyze~ *** was all that was needed to penetrate the minds of such primitive creatures, and they soon shook in fear, before their bodies ceased to function, and they simply dropped to the ground, as if they were dead.
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The night has started to disappear, and the moon once again gave way to the scorching sun, that was now slowly emerging on the horizon. Everything was silent, and the desert rats cooked slowly on Bassam's bonfire. The heat and the smell of meat made the two raiders wake up from their sleep. "Arghh! I need a drink" - Jared exclaimed as he tried to get up, and Adrian soon followed - "What year is it!" - with a worried tone.
"Come and eat. You'll need the strength, we move in a few hours." - Bassam said, as he gazed into the distance, watching the sun rise...
Two years had passed, since Bassam rescued the two raiders, and in time, stories of fierce raiders pillaging convoys and razing settlements spread throughout the deserts like a wildfire. The tales of the riches they accumulated, the adventures shared and the lives they led lured many to seek them out and join their side, to live a life of freedom and independence.
But nothing is ever as it seems, is it?
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Staring intently to the horizon, Bassam stood motionless for hours. Behind him, stood the busy campsite and all the noise that comes with it. Men singing and drinking, women laughing and screaming with a touch of ocassional gunfire. None of it moved him.
While gazing over the dunes, his next destination became apparent to him, what needed to be done, had to be done. Choice ceased to exist even more than two years ago, when he was dragged away from his work-camp and brought to the temple.
Even though his bonds of servitude were broken then, slavery was only shortly delayed, and he had a less forgiving master now. He fought the control, but eventually stopped trying. Was there a point in trying? To fight the indomitable will that compressed his mind from all directions with the force of a mountain, usurping every part of his being. There was no point, resistance was futile. But oddly enough, compliance brought a shred of freedom.
He was now something else indeed, and with acceptance came the realization, that he was now them, and they were him. All was equal, his purpose and destination clear and determined from the start, an oddly comforting certainty.
~ ~ ~ ~
"My brother..." - a hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned his head swiftly to look, spotting the familiar face of Jared Nomak - "You have been standing here for hours, is something troubling you?"
Bassam turned back towards the horizon, as Nomak moved in to stand beside him - "No, I was thinking." - he cleared his throat - "We were successful, the Gods were kind indeed to grant us this luck. But perhaps, just perhaps, we should aim higher..."
"Higher?" - Nomak's eyes flashed with an enthusiastic glare, his ambition clearly tickled. - "What did you have in mind, brother?" - he crossed his arms, now looking in the same direction as Bassam.
Bassam stroked his short stubble and inhaled deeply, then pointed towards a distant tower - "There. The Black Gold Tower, Samarra's only spaceport, and arguably the richest settlement on this blasted world."
"What does that have to do with us? We cannot hope to pillage or capture it..." - Nomak interrupted him.
"Why, of course not" - Bassam grinned as he was slowly getting to his point - "We should aim for...servitude."
Bassam looked at Nomak as he narrowed his eyes - "Now now, hear me out. I've learned that the Akkadians are moving in from the west. They aim to claim the fortress with their armies." - he paused for a moment - "We should offer our aid against them, they are sure to accept, and we'll be praised and rewarded as heroes. Glory is clear and defined."
"And with some good old samarran diplomacy and webweaving, we could actually seize control from the inside..." - Nomak continued Bassam's train of thought. - "I like it."
"Exactly" - Bassam confirmed and gave him a slight confident smile
"Very well, I'll trust your judgement." - Nomak motioned to the campfire - "But for now, let us eat and rest. You must be starving."
"Well, I am a bit peckish." - He rubbed his stomache.
Nomak laughed - "Haha! Of course you are, men, bring out the large bowl, as usual!"
~ ~ ~ ~
And so they made themselves comfortable near the flames, bottles disappeared one after another, story after story, burning through the night...