The Erstwhiles

Descent

The west sandsea of Yamensis a vast and unforgiving open once home to a civilization now long drowned and forgotten in sand. Its deserts do not afford travel by land, its sand is like water aerated by the open undercontinent it's forever caught in between a flux. Though a few beasts had learned to adapt and live with it civilization has not.

In this wide and arid sea of sand is a tower on a monumental scale, a relic of a distant age whence the world was once whole, The great tower of Gumul. Or to the learned Ig Bivlioteka Gumul.

The musk of sweat and tiredness whaffs inside the Royal Suite. Kaja sleeps firmly nestled on a couch its thick and billowy comfort cradles him evident by his minor drooling, to the bed is Rosh now but a mangled form that dangles on the edge he reverberates what can only be thought of as snores. On the other side of the bed is Lyra who just woke up from her phone's alarm.

"Fifty-eight percent..." She turns the alarm off, quickly doth she notices their scent. "I smell so bad..." She gets out of bed and tosses the light yet thick duvet over Rosh. She enters another room adjacent to the suite, a powder room and further the bath. A fresh stock of toiletries line its shelves, towels neatly stacked. A groan of relaxation escapes her as she bathes in a warm soup of bubbles and floral scents. Above her is a glass dome that affords her a view of the early morn "Now this is five stars..." she says audibly, sinking further in the tub. A sudden knock.

                    "I need to take a shit Lyra! you've been in there before the sun has risen and now it has!" Rosh continuously knocks on the door.

"Shut up! there are fifty other toilets you can blow up with your shit!" Lyra retorts as she hears a severely annoyed groan on the other side of the marble door.

                   "I'll be at the cookery Lyra... I'll make us an early meal... so follow suit quickly... I cannot save yours from Rosh..." Kaja threatened quickly as both their footsteps receded beyond the doors.

Lyra, annoyed at the memories of how Rosh downs a meal the four days they kept in touch with him prior, took herself out of luxury and readied her newly cleaned misbegotten apparel though some seemed to have shrunk.

Lyra heads to the kitchen subtle noises can be heard from it, She checks her phone while she clutches the selfsame bottle of wine of last eve.

"Is it truly the habit of pirates to drink this time of day?" Rosh smirks his mouth half full.

                 "You make me grateful of being an only child,"

Lyra sat the bottle on the table and tied her damp hair back.

"I suggest you stay sober Lyra... I won't risk it if you're winesodden," Kaja said as he stack the last of the saucer. "As for you... bathe..." his eyes staring intently at Rosh.

                   "I've only realized that your eyes are hued gold like that of dogs,"

Kaja turns away from Rosh and gives Lyra a knowing look, his shoulders uncomfortable.

A sudden horn blares, taking everyone's attention. "We're near! You folks man the helm while I rinse my crotch," Rosh hurried along.

A dark humid pit dimly lit by glowing blue slabs carefully arranged on the walls. The vegetation also aids in this illumination though forever bereft of the sun's touch if only briefly at certain times of day.

Disheveled crystalline tablets litter the table most of them had seen better days or centuries perhaps even millennia.

A crooked figure hunches about gathering leaves atop this cylindrical canopy of leaves, hands plucking only the youngest of leaves indiscriminately. Its body hidden by several layers of dirty blue cloaks. The only truth it offers is that it does have hands, but even those are hidden in black cloth bound randomly by strips of leather.