Selikk Aman, Desert Disciple and High Lieutenant of Ogun flew over the dry winter Sarklan on his winged camel, Nagritte. There were no sand dragons aloft today, which pleased the Wind Lord greatly, for he despised such creatures and endeavoured at all times to keep such evil monsters away from civilized people.
On the dry lands below, a few caravans struggled across the slow terrain, and in the distance his divine ears heard the smooth swish of a Siwal sandship as it made its way through the Sands of Sorrow. But this was not his calling.
Flying over an oasis, he saw two merchants arguing, their hands on their daggers, their wives and servants wild eyed and pleading for peaceful resolution to whatever trivial disagreement they contested. But this was not his calling.
As Selikk swerved westward on his winged beast, away from the Hariek Hills, he noticed a group of dead reptilians, their life essence ripped from them, their bodies already decaying in the warm winter sun. But this was not his calling.
After a short time he descended to a vile pool at the foot of a short ridge. The recent storms had blown away tons of sand and had revealed an ancient temple of the Elephant God, Maraut, so old that even Selikk Aman had not been born when it was built. This was his calling.
Leaving Nagritte outside with instructions not to approach the pool, Ogun’s Servant strode through the maze of passages on the edge of the ethereal plane, being careful to avoid triggering the powerful magic preventing interdimensional travel within the temple. Deep into the dungeon he ran, past desecration painful to behold.
Avoiding a large room guarded by the souls of wretched priests, he strode through a series of tombs and through a dark passage leading into the most vile room he had ever entered. Black was its essence, putrid its stench. Mortals engaged with demons in fierce contest. He would pray for them when he left, but he was not sent here to battle demons, just to eject one from the body of a loyal follower.
Dispel Magic was a simple spell for Selikk Aman, and he cast it with pleasure, forcing out the horrid demon from the body of the unwilling barbarian. “A fairer contest now,” he thought, and turned whence he came. He could have stayed to help the mortals against such demons of shadow and disgust. But that was not his calling. And it was unfair to leave Nagritte alone in such a terrible place.