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 Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2015 9:23 pm
Daybreak over the Judean Mountains. A small tent was set among the hills, and the morning light suffused through the tan tarps to brighten the space inside. A young man sat alone, in loose and comfortable garb, cross-legged on the floor in front of a low alter. His ritual began hours ago, with a bath in a nearby stream to cleanse his body, but now he was ready to proceed.
He was staring down into a mirror that lay in front of him. To one side of the mirror was a lit oil lamp, painted white, and to the other, a lamp painted black. Their lights shone in the reflective surface. Good. Evil. Across from him, overhead of the mirror, was an empty bowl. Beyond that, another lamp - unlit, and painted red. There was script written along its belly in white, tall and looping characters. أعوذ بالله من شر شيطان رجيم
The man steadied his breathing, and took the two lamps in his hands; white to the right, black to the left. Good. Evil. Free will. Carefully moving them forward, he held their spouts together, and used them both to light the red lamp. The Djinn.
He let his two lamps down to their original positions, and watched the newest flame. Another deep breath to center himself, and he began the to chant the words written on the red lamp,
"A'oo Thu Billahi min Ash Shaitan Arrajim. A'oo Thu Billahi min Ash Shaitan Arrajim. A'oo Thu Billahi min Ash Shaitan Arrajim..." he repeated for a total of nine times, to ask for safety from evil, and to call upon good spirits and Djinn. As he finished, he felt a presence around him. All at once it was heavy and stifling, yet made his hair wave on a nonexistent breeze. He resisted patting down his locks, and tried to ignore the chills that went up his spine. He went on, speaking in Arabic,
"I wish to speak to you now. I offer you my own energy to do with as you wish in exchange for your guidance," As he said this, he pulled a hair from his head, and set it inside of the bowl. He left it there a moment, and the presence seemed to lose focus on him. He gasped quietly, now able to get a lungful of air again. As the strand of hair danced in the bowl, the man drew something forward, which had been hidden behind him, out of sight. He placed it carefully in the bowl - an intricately fashioned bottle, small and rounded, with golden leaves encircling it. The cap sat beside it, with it's own leaf standing straight up.
“I command you to enter into the bottle lain here. I command you to enter into the bottle lain here. I command you to enter into the bottle lain here -- ” It was as though a wind storm had entered his tent suddenly, and the young man closed his eyes and covered his head. The tarps shook. All his belongings were blown aside. The clothes he wore whipped about him. The lamp lights wavered - but remained lit. And then it was done. The presence...the Djinn...It was ensnared in the vessel he'd chosen. He cautiously blinked when the room was quieted.
The man hurriedly got back to the task at hand. He lifted the candles again, blowing out the white, then the black. No Good. No Evil. No free will. He dipped the gold vessel, warmed by the djinni's presence, out of the bowl and capped it, setting it aside. He took out the strand he'd offered the djinn, and carefully lit it with the remaining flame. It smoldered and burned, filling the air with a nasty scent. Once it was all burnt away, he blew out the candle, and his eyes fell to the small bottle beside him. He carefully picked it up, cradling the miniscule thing in his hands.
He...He'd done it. It had been over 2000 years since Soloman walked the Earth and controlled the Djinn to do his bidding...But now, he too would command a Djinni! He would turn the tides of war!
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Posted: Sun Mar 08, 2015 9:41 pm
He laid back, resting his head against some pillows, and stared at the roof. He was considering his efforts thus far. At first, he knew it should take some time for the djinn to adjust to the new situation, and so he let it be for the most part, aside from speaking aloud to it about who he was and what he was going to need help with. The Christians, he'd explained, were rumored to be preparing to enter the city of Jerusalem in order to reclaim it. This could not be, he told the djinn. There came the occasional shaking of the tent, but it was unclear if this was the spirit or the wind.
After that, he tried to get the djinn to speak through him. It was a turn on an old trick that could be used to communicate with various haunts. A person could use a talking board, but he didn't have access to one, and so instead devised a simpler means (or so he assumed). The idea was to hold in his left hand his pen, with his ink and papyrus set out right nearby. While he focused on convincing the djinn to write through him, he closed his eyes and let his hand move across the page without paying attention. The first time he found squiggly lines and an abundance of stars with differing numbers of points. The second time, the Arabic alphabet. He gave up when he found phrases skimmed from sources around the tent copied haphazardly onto the sheet. It was progress, but it wasn't getting him where he needed to be.
After a few minutes, he picked up the bottle which held his djinn, and rolled it between his palms. He began to meditate, and when he was well and focused, he spoke to the spirit.
"Oh, grand Djinni," He started. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine it was in the room with him. "I am called Salim. I seek your guidance"
He kept his eyes shut as things began to move around the room. A cup jolted, its contents sloshing quietly. Papers around the room crinkled, as though they were being leafed through and let back down. The djinn was wandering, exploring the small space, and Salim had learned previously that, while he could not actually see it, the djinn preferred that he let it go about on its own.
Soon, it began to weigh on him, though. It was not hostile, but it hung around Salim like a heavy blanket. It could not help, it seemed, but disrupt his breathing.
"Oh, djinni," he said again, and coughed, "Tell me, what sort of...creature are you? What are you...called?"
There was a long wait, and he wheezed under the spirits pressure. Then it spoke to him. It crashed through his skull, voiceless words that boomed louder than any thunder storm and rolled on for ages. I AM CALLED ASMODAI, OF THE MARID TRIBE.
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Posted: Sun Mar 15, 2015 9:41 pm
"Hello?" He called out after a while.
HELLO.
Salim squeezed his eyes shut when the blue cloud answered. It was the same non-voice he'd heard moments ago, and it made him flinch. But it didn't hurt this time. It didn't pound through his mind from within, or make him want to beg for silence. He noticed that he didn't even feel a weight on his chest like before, and he could breathe deeply without a problem.
"You are the Djinni Asmodai?" He spoke hesitantly.
I AM.
He nodded quickly, looking from one portion of smoke to another. It was hard to tell whether the veil was swirling or if he was the one being turned about. It didn't exactly feel like he was being moved around, but he was inclined to believe a little bit of both was happening.
Salim took some time considering what was going on. He was now freely speaking to his djinn. He was someplace he didn't remember being before, surrounded by the spirit. Was he in the realm of the djinni? Or..
"I'm asleep aren't I? I'm dreaming?" He asked.
YOU ARE.
His brow furrowed at this. It's clipped responses rang on a while, fading into the haze, but they were just that -- two-word answers to only exactly what he asked. He needed to get beyond this, and he needed to do it as soon as possible. Salim steadied himself, and stared hard into the murk.
"Asmodai of the Marid Tribe!" He called to it, and straight away began to question his use of tone. The smoke began to swirl around him wildly, though it held him safely aloft in the eye of it's self-made storm. He swallowed his nervousness and went on, demanding what he so desperately wanted from the djinn, "Reveal yourself to me - communicate with me - in the waking realm!" The smoke churned rapidly, blurring into itself in a cyclone of muddled blues. It turned dark and noisy, and tempest-like as it whipped all around.
"Dj..DJINN?" He cried out, suddenly afraid of what the creature might do. And then, like before, the wind stopped at once and the smoke disappeared. Everything was black. He was alone in the inky empty space that had been punched into his own dreamland.
When he opened his eyes again, it was evening, but that couldn't be told by the level of light. No, his vision was stung by a familiar radiant blue, one brighter than he remembered. He searched from his reclined position on the floor for the source, and nearly fainted. Salim scrambled to his feet, despite how badly his legs were shaking beneath him. His mouth gaped, and his eyes were wide, but he couldn't speak and he thought his sight must be betraying him.
Towering before him was a feminine figure, at least twenty feet tall, though below her knees a tail of smoke formed and snaked its way from the tiny golden vessel. Her naked body glowed and appeared to be engulfed in blue flames. Somehow, the dimensions of the tent were warped in such a way that everything seemed to be the proper size around Salim, yet the tarps sheltered her tremendous form without pressing in on her.
White-hot eyes looked down on the human. A smile reached them, squeezing the lids to half-open. She brought her hands together in front of her chest, palms to one another. She bowed to the tiny man.
"What is your wish, Master?"
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2015 10:03 am
He turned over the djinni's vessel in his hand. Haa...How could this all be, he wondered to himself yet again. Admittedly, living with the djinn over the last few weeks had come with its own unique challenges, but it was all going to pay off now (and what was a day or so spent as a woman...as a sow...or even a couch cushion, in the name of freedom from persecution?). He had gained the djinn's trust, and she was ready to help him. To help his people. He squeezed the bottle gently, and slipped it into his belt.
The young man called gingerly to his horse as he walked over and untied it. Patting its neck, he turned the beast around and lead it north toward his home. So close now, he was so close to his goal. He smiled as he walked, thinking how happy his family would be to see him after so long, and how surprised that he had succeeded in his mission.
After a time, he came to stop by a small stream, to rest and to water his horse. Salim set out a small rug and determined which way he ought to face from here, and said his prayers. As he was getting up, a man in armor appeared, having surmounted a nearby hill. He was riding a regal-looking horse, and he seemed equally surprised to see Salim as Salim was surprised to see him.
"Hé toi! Arrêtez!" The man shouted. Salim was scrambling to gather up his belongings. The armored man, a Franc, surged forward on his horse. "Qu'est ce que tu crois faire?" he shouted as he came down the hill. Salim turned to face the man as the distance between them quickly closed. How to get away? How to get away? His hands searched his body until he found the djinn vessel.
"Djinni! Protect me from this foul man!" he proclaimed as he retrieved the bottle and lifted it into the air. He immediately felt something knock hard against his hand, and was able to catch the smallest glimmer of sun on the gold vessel as it flew into the air, before his vision was blocked.
"Qoui?" the Franc looked puzzled, but quickly turned his horse away. Huge, jagged stones had risen up out of the ground to surround Salim, and in doing so, the djinni's bottle was thrown out of his reach. But he was protected.
"What?! No! Asmodai, release me!" He shouted as he scrambled to reach between the rocks to grab the bottle. There was no way of getting to it, though. Not before the Franc dismounted and cautiously picked it up.
"Comment as-tu fais ça? Qu'est-ce que c'est? Magie?" the man asked the screaming Salim. He brushed his thumb over the surface, and uncapped it. He tried to peek inside, but was quickly blown back as the spirit escaped. The horses were startled and Salim's, being less used to a big commotion, scurried off some place he couldn't see.
"Djinni! Djinn Asmodai! Let me go, please!" he begged while trying to climb up out of the rocks. She looked at him sadly. Then a quiet voice drew her attention.
"G..g..génie," the crusader stuttered as he looked up at the giant blue spirit. Asmodai watched as he got to his feet, his eyes unable to look away the entire time.
"What is your wish, Master?" She drew her hands up in front of her body, and bowed her head. The Franc looked at her, and then at the bottle in his hands, and then to Salim.
"You...you have a Genie," he said, dumbfounded, to the man he knew by now wouldn't understand him. He looked down to the tiny thing in his hands, "..I have a Genie" He looked again to Asmodai, and lifted the bottle shakily toward the gargantuan woman, "G..Genie, return to this bottle" he told her, and shielded his face as she returned as smoke to the palm of his hand. He looked terrified of what he had just witnessed, but his mind was turning over ideas of what this could mean. He looked briefly at the man trying to escape his stone cage, and then mounted his horse and rode off.
He didn't stop until it was almost nightfall, when he knew it was too late and he was too far away for the native to find him...presuming he had even gotten out from among the rocks by now. The Franc climbed off his horse, and paced a while, rolling the bottle between his fingers. Finally, he knew what he was going to do. He opened the vessel and set it down. He sat a few feet away from it.
"Genie. I wish...to pave the way for my people into Jerusalem," He told her, and felt the presence of the djinni, and the magic, though he could not see her. It was...heavy. He was heavy. He was like stone. He..he couldn't move! He was being crushed! He could barely glance down and see that his legs and his metal armor were being pushed and melded into the ground, spreading across it, lengthening out. Slowly, painfully, his body disappeared into the ground. A path stretched out in either direction from where he'd been sitting - the most direct line from where he'd come from, to where he was wanting to go, the heart of Jerusalem. It was a beautiful, smooth road, coloured in red hues and tan, with flecks of sparkling metal all about.
But no crusaders ever took that path. Asmodai's vessel sat alone in the grass for a very long time, and no man - Franc or Native, came along. How could this be, she wondered? This was meant to be a way in for the Crusaders, but it just didn't work. Why was that? Unbeknownst to her, both ends of the path were surrounded by superstition for its strange colours and the way it appeared overnight, and was almost never used.
After several years, the little bottle disappeared, going off someplace to where a new Master might find it.
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