The rythmic beating drums within the drinking hall echoed out into the streets of the city of Arkham. While the air outside was crisp in the twilight hour as the sun died the air within was warm and thick with the scent of roasting meats, strong drink and an over abundance of bodies. The people practically packed the mead hall of the Khal, built in his honor shortly after he conquered the city, and were well into their drink fueled revelry. Women so sensuous and ravishing men would go weak at the sight of them danced about seductively as around their curvaceous frames hung next to no clothing to speak of. The finest spiced wines, golden mead and frothing ales poured fourth by the gallon to the thirsty revelers. Roasted boar, venison, beef and wild foul could all be found in abundance prepared perfectly, the finely spiced meat practically fell off the bone as the hungry attendees enjoyed the feast.
As the men and women lost themselves in the music, sex and drinking one man sat still. An almost stoic expression on his face as he looked out across the people. Broad shoulders thick with muscle were leaned forward as he rested his elbows on his thighs. His long black hair, braided carefully fell down his back past the blue war paint. His dark eyes seem to catch everything before them as the music thumped around him. In his hand a single drinking horn, crafted from the horn of an ox rimmed with gold it was filled with rich honeyed mead. Around him lay three of the dancers, so beautiful and rapturous their sensuous allure could barely be described. They lounged comfortably around their Khal all beaded with sweat from the rigorous and passionate romp they had just experienced at the strong hands of the big man. One lay resting at his feet, resting her head on her hand as her elbow kept her fiery red haired head propped up, her nearly naked body casually stretched out before the Khal. Another lay draped over his shoulder, her milky skin and long golden hair seemed to glow in the fire light. Her delicate hand constantly rubbing his broad chest and shoulders as she looked out onto the feast going on before them along side her fierce ruler. The third was a raven haired beauty seated on the arm rest of the large chair her man was seated on. Comfortably she leaned against the back of the chair all the while holding a large carafe of the same honeyed mead the Khal was drinking should he need a refill.
Jinn was a complex man, not one for laughs or smiles yet here he was happy. While he appeared to be silently brooding he was truly content. He had strong drink, good food, and women abound. He was in his city, in his kingdom. A right hard fought but his none the less. The city had taken a while to bounce back from the chaos of his take over but now it was finally getting back on it's feet. It was thriving under his rule. The people were happy and loyal, gold was coming in and their borders were secure yet that was not enough for the ambitious Khal Jinn. The words of his chosen god echoed out in his mind from all those years ago in that pit. His destiny lay out there somewhere, with someone. A man or woman whom "fire did not touch". He would find them. No force of men nor gods could stop him.