Worldbuilding Prompt #881 - An Unlikely Alliance

in #hive-19103825 days ago

This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #881 - Alliances

It covers a key alliance in the ongoing main story arc in my Dungeons & Dragons setting, and some of the most influential NPC's. Of course, they're too important for many characters to actually directly meet; they are the "movers and shakers" who make things happen in the world that then affect everyone else's lives.

Enjoy !

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Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio

The camp sprawled across the desert, the warriors occupying it busy digging a perimeter ditch and throwing up palisades to protect it. Behind was the glittering sea, covered with hundreds up on hundreds of anchored ships, their longboats still bringing supplies to the hastily constructed jetty.

In front was the dusty, derelict city of Klasmet. It's houses, palaces and temples were all but abandoned, but there was frenetic activity on the slopes of the massive golden pyramid that squatted like a parasitic intruder at it's centre. It was like a swarm of ants clambering all over the sides of the edifice, hurriedly working to complete it.

The armies in the encampment were divided into two. On one side, square pavilions of colourful cloth, on the other, circular bell tents in pure white canvas.

In the centre, separating and linking the two halves, was a large pavilion. It was made of the finest cloth of gold, and glittered in the desert sun despite the constant eddies of sandy dust kicked up by the relentless wind.

Guards ringed the pavilion, an equal number from each of the two armies. Northerners sun-burned to redness in chainmail, with surcoats and shields of red with a black bar across the centre, armed with halberds and longswords. With them were matching numbers of brown-skinned Sarassids in lamellar armour with small round shields, white turbans around spired helmets, armed with lances and composite bows.

Striding into the pavilion, King Gortig von Telram of Jakta threw his crowned great helm to a squire and reached for a glass of wine. Then, with a second thought he stopped and looked to the man seated on the other side.

"May I have some of that sherbet of yours, my friend ? Seems I've picked up a taste for the stuff, and supervising the building of defences is a hot and thirsty job !"

The seated Sarassid grinned widely and gestured a servant forward with the pitcher of refreshing (and non-alcoholic) drink.

"If you had said to me ten years ago that I would be sitting in a tent sharing sherbet with Gortig von Telram, I would have thought it so impossible I'd have laughed until I gave birth to a camel. Now look at us !"

Gortig took the glass of sherbet and sipped it appreciatively.

"It's true, Mangut Pasha. Our wars were hard, but we fought with honour. I'll confess that when I first led an army to the Sarassid Lands, I had a low opinion of the place and it's people. But seeing Tiraz opened my eyes to the depths of Sarassid civilisation, and it was your legendary defence of Avassar that earned my respect for you as warriors."

Mangut Pasha nodded, his pointed black beard moving rigidly with his chin - it was thoroughly lacquered - and his small, neat snow white turban dancing a counterpoint to it.

"It's strange to think that I believed the Northlands were just inhabited by fur-clad barbarians. The appearance of your iron-clad almost invincible knights with their battle-priests was a huge shock. But you're right; we fought with honour and learned to respect each other."

He looked out of the tent door at the golden pyramid, his face almost wistful.

"It is even stranger that that... thing... has bought us together. It may glitter like the domes of Tashad, but it is a symbol of death. The beast-headed monsters and their undead creations who built it would destroy both our worlds."

"That's not going to happen," Gortig said with grim certitude.

He knew that the two of them were the most renowned war-leaders on the face of Argull. He, the Count who had become a King, the veteran of a hundred wars against orcs and men, and Mangut Al Avassari Pasha, the bravest and most philosophical of generals among the Sarassids.

His grin widening, Mangut slowly nodded agreement. "You're right. It's not. Our armies complement each other, and have worked well together through this war. As have we. When this is all over, we have much rebuilding to do. That will help our alliance to last."

Then his face took on a sharp expression. "And if Abed Shah sitting and scheming in his palace back in Tashad chooses to differ, why I might have to show him that the throne he took with poison could just as easily be lost by the sword."