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Azan

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  1. #1
    Winter's Avatar
    Winter
    Presence
    (Stoic)
    Education
    (West Point Grad)
    Occultation
    Winter

    Nimbus

    Dark shadows scatter in ordered symmetrical patterns traversed by a crackling pallid silver light that wraps Winter in a pleasantly numbing and icy coldness.
    When vulgar magic is cast, the frequency of the oscillation of the dark fluid surges until the shadows arrange themselves in a solid black halo around Winter's head, the white light darkens into a fiery black sunlight and his eyes are set ablaze with vivid incandescence.
    Stats

    Health:
    Mana:
    WP:
    Armor: 1(General)/2(Ballistic)
    Defense: 3

    Active Spells: 1/6
    Personal Spells: 1/3
    Incognito Presence (Mind 2) Rote, Scene, Pot[1]

    1
    OCC
    2
    PRE

    As the sun climbs its way through the clear midday sky, the streets of the old city center are overflown with boisterous crowds and cackling calls of vendors of all sort.
    The labyrinth of shops sprawls out endlessly in every direction with its myriad of colored stalls. Among the narrow passageways that line the Grand Baazar, enclosed by an intricately painted arched roof of gold and ochre, in a perpetually moist - almost tropical - environment, energic shopkeepers catcall their customers - women whose arms are heavy with patterned scarves and jewelry - in an attempt to peddle, bargain, haggle their wares, garments woven of bright cloth and saffron.
    The neighborhood between the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market is a cluster of erratic, winding roads lined with vendors much the same way as the Bazaar, there, behind an anonymous counter a young man sips his tea, when he's not busy shooing the street urchins away, his job is to entice visitors into the Chay-Khaneh behind him.

    "Dumb westerner", comes from a cramped corner of the tea-house in a thick farsi accent. Sitting at a table, beneath a groove of lamps dangling from the vaulted ceiling, a bearded old man is admonishing his unlucky and much younger guest. He's old, the tout skin over his hollowed cheekbones the color of parchment and deep wrinkles plow through his furrow. Below his turban flows an unruly mop of white hair.
    His clear eyes study the chessboard, while his hand lazily operates the puffing samovar. With a flick of his tired wrist, the nabat candy stirs the boiling water, diluting the reddish-brown content in his cup.
    It was the endgame.
    "You sacrifice the Rooks for the Woman", the man smirks, "but real estate is worth more than any lady will ever be. No?".

    On his part, the challenger is blissfully unaware of the meaning of his opponent's words. So profligate are some old people with their extravagant metaphors and misogyny, that their teachings become like a single jewel amid a sea of Diamonds, worthless.
    He was winning though.

    "You should consider it", the younger man says in a less accentuated Persian. Soon, this game will draw to a close, "it's a great Company".

    Dhuhr, the midday salat. From the most exalted post the Mu'azzin calls to the faithful with his melodious chant.
    The older mans' lips move, but his reply is drowned under the blast of trumpets, smothered amid the noises of footsteps from the crowd, that like a torrent, has gathered outside.

    "Hmpff, sacrifices are necessary", his face contorts wryly, "Checkmate". Alas, it's his opponent and not him that is wearing a smile, and he gets the distinct feeling that the victory he's just scored might be a hollow one, a poison pill of some sort.

    "Takbir!", shouts the Mu'azzin, the catalyst for the cries of the crowd assembled at the feet of the minaret, whose collective yearning for the absolute fills the air with a chorus of Allahu akbar!

    "God is Almighty", the black haired man says, willing to score a few points with his host. "Is He?", says the older man, as he pours yet another cup.


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  3. #2
    Winter's Avatar
    Winter
    Presence
    (Stoic)
    Education
    (West Point Grad)
    Occultation
    Winter

    Nimbus

    Dark shadows scatter in ordered symmetrical patterns traversed by a crackling pallid silver light that wraps Winter in a pleasantly numbing and icy coldness.
    When vulgar magic is cast, the frequency of the oscillation of the dark fluid surges until the shadows arrange themselves in a solid black halo around Winter's head, the white light darkens into a fiery black sunlight and his eyes are set ablaze with vivid incandescence.
    Stats

    Health:
    Mana:
    WP:
    Armor: 1(General)/2(Ballistic)
    Defense: 3

    Active Spells: 1/6
    Personal Spells: 1/3
    Incognito Presence (Mind 2) Rote, Scene, Pot[1]

    1
    OCC
    2
    PRE

    Closed


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