The Eighth Witch

Lost among the shifting dunes of central Osirion, tucked away in a hidden oasis, lay the ruins of an ancient temple older than the oldest wyrm, possibly older than some of the gods themselves. Walls composed of blocks of limestone, pitted and scourged by the blowing sands until their surfaces resembled the bones of some fallen colossal creature, lay exposed at the whim of the wind. In eons past, it had once been a thriving place, stone walls adorned with murals of brightly colored paints depicting heroic deeds of long dead kings and queens and the benevolence of long forgotten deities. Statues to these gods and heroes had proudly lined its streets. Now they stood broken and defiled, smeared with blood and excrement. Few people ever came here. And fewer still left alive.

Framed by swaying palm trees, Alashra stood gazing down a long corridor of walls that lead to a shadowed archway to part of the now buried structure. A loose robe of linen dyed a deep blue billowed about her humanoid form, and a matching cowl wrapped over and about her head. She strode boldly forward, pulling the cowl from her face when she reached the protection of the walls and got out of the wind, the gnoll guards near the entrance relaxing...somewhat.

For Alashra, too, was a gnoll, the powerful female consort to their clan's leader, the albino, Nathrek the Pale, Devourer of Virgins. Grinning as she reached the sentries, Alashra gestured behind her, chuckling in the maddeningly chilling laughter gnolls shared with their not so distant kin, hyenas.

"All praise to Lamashtu, Our Mother! We are successful yet again! Soon many will be sacrificed to her glory! After they have served our clan, of course," she cackled.

"All praise to Our Bloodthirsty Mother!" one of the guards growled in reply. "Will we be allowed to join in the revels?" His companion pricked his rounded ears forward in anticipation.

Alashra grinned. "Of course! I will see to it females are sent to relieve you. All males will be wanted for this offering."

Both sentries grinned maliciously, looking to the procession of figures that trailed along behind their leader's mate. Several human and half elf females stumbled along in chains, prodded roughly forward by their gnoll captors. Many balked at entering the black gullet leading below the ruins, and the gnolls lashed them forward with whips and curses.

Alashra watched them go, her eyes bright with malice, giggling viciously, enjoying their pitiful cries and screams, relishing their helplessness and fear like an appetizer before the feast of rape and death that was soon to come.