frp

Roderick,

It is your first night in the desert. The conditions are horrible - partly because it contrasts with the relative comfort you have enjoyed for the past month - but mostly because you are out here without adequate camping equipment, and the desert night becomes far colder than you expected.

And so you find yourself awake much of the night.

The others seem to have much less difficulty with the night. Aramil, of course, thrives in the wilderness. He could sleep without a bedroll on a glacier, if need be. Kesi never complains about anything, so you are unsure what kind of a burden this is for her. However, she ends up peaceful and still after what seems like only a few minutes.

Roget is the only kindred soul here, you suspect. He groans often and cannot seem to settle down. The dryness of the desert (though it is not really that dry) troubles him far more than it should. Still, even with all that, when his time comes, he falls fast asleep.

You feel very alone.

The hours crawl by. A nearly full moon glows behind a thin cloud cover, lighting the desert for miles in all directions. And out in that expanse, insects and other creatures occasionally stir. Mixed with a light breeze, the desert noises create a chaotic symphony that worms its way deep into your mind, keeping you from ever falling completely asleep.

Then, quite suddenly, you are jarred from your melancholy by a voice.

“Are you not well, Roderick?”

The young woman who you first met back in the dead village of Gressa is standing at your feet. The night noise of the desert is gone and in its place is an eery emptiness reminiscent of the ethereal plane. However, you still feel the ground beneath you, and you can still feel the cold of the night.

She steps forward, straddling your lower legs. “I believe I can help you”.

In one swift motion, she pulls her light, white robe up and over her head and tosses it to the ground next to you. Her naked body gleams in the moonlight. While you thought she was still a teenager, she is clearly now a woman. Her skin is a dark gold, her hair black, and her breasts - which you cannot seem to avoid - are PERFECT. You are instantly aroused. But a confusion and fear begins to simmer within you.

Several things assault you as she drops to her knees over you and begins to undo your belt. First, you feel powerless to stop her. Either your muscles refuse to obey you - or you do not wish to stop her. It has been a very long time, after all.

Secondly, the boundary where her skin clashes with the glowing, backlit clouds seems indistinct. As if your mind cannot understand what it sees and is filling in the gaps with the well-known form of a woman.

Finally, on her left hand is a simple gold band - identical to the ring Roget wears.

Deftly, she pulls the belt from around your waist and drops it on the ground next to you. As she frees you from your clothes, a wave of confusion and guilt crosses your heart. This is so wrong. You must stop her. But you can't. You won't.

She moves forward and settles down on you slowly. A surge of pleasure pushes your guilt and fear aside temporarily. But within seconds, they reappear. The cold ground below you and the indistinct outline of the woman above you build and feed the fear, doubt, and confusion.

She begins - ever so slowly - moving her hips. But the emotions within you boil over. Your erection softens and you sense her stop.

“What's the matter, little man?” Her voice rises. “AM I TOO MUCH FOR YOU?”

She is angry. And you feel - you KNOW - this is a VERY BAD THING.

She pulls back from you and stands up. “No wonder Imhotep laughs at you.”

Reality snaps back in. The desert noises are back. The night air is colder. And you are lying on your side, curled up in a fetal position. She is gone. Tears well in your eyes as the bottled emotions burst out.

After a few minutes, you recover the will to sit up. To your right on the ground, your belt lies. Exactly where she dropped it.

Roderick sits on the ground, arms holding his legs to his chest, silently rocking back and forth. He is confused and scared. All he feels is the coldness of the air around him, and how lost and alone he feels. But after a while, the terror fades, and his mind returns to him. These are his thoughts.

No.

He doesn't laugh at me.

He is proud of me.

I do his work here. I bring his word here. I am his servant.

He graces me with his strength, and he provides me with a small amount of his power, so that I may serve him better.

I have served him well, these many years. From the time I was a young acolyte, learning the skills needed to heal the sick and injured, and discovering the joy in helping build temples that reached up to the sky.

As I have grown and matured, I have served him in other ways. I have helped to build his temples and enlarge his following, not through building and healing, but through organization and bureaucracy that was necessary.

And then I was lost, trapped a world away from my friends, my temples, my home. Helpless and surrounded by strangers, unable to return, I cursed my fate, I cursed my luck, I cursed the world.

But I never cursed him. I praised him.

When I began this long, arduous journey to get home, I was helpless, hopeless. I had become an acolyte again. Relearning the skills to heal, to gain knowledge, and to help my new companions. And he helped me along the way.

The challenges have been great on this trip. The peoples are strange, the threats many and deadly, the hardships constant. The sights have been both wondrous and terrifying.

Through it all, I follow his calling. I heal the sick here. I spread his word here. I help my companions defeat great evils here.

I am even tempted by power, by the local gods themselves. One comes to me, tempting me, promising great treasures and powerful wrath.

But I resist. Because of him.

As I have spoken his words, as I have wielded his power, he has helped and supported me. As I resist the entreaties of this diety, he supports me.

I may not survive my next encounter with her. She is quick to please, and even quicker to anger. One who gains the enmity of a god rarely survives. But I will not waiver. My allegiances are set, my mind made up. I will continue my quest, and help my new friends and others in need. I will do what is necessary to complete our task.

But I will not sacrifice my faith.

I will not sacrifice my faith in him.

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