Chapter Seventeen: Curses

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~~~~(Point of view: Third Person)~~~~

~~~~(Date: 275 AC)~~~~

Azrael stood with his netherite armor at the ready and his sword wielded, atop his trusty black steed covered in emerald armor that made the horse look all the more beautiful. 

In front of him stood his Khalasar's warriors, eager to fight and shed blood. "While I recognize that they are very good warriors! Willing to bleed and slay any enemy who dares to confront us, I also know that they are mortal like me." Azrael began. 

What he had in mind was to give them each an iron armor, plus protect the horses with diamond armor as well, and while Azrael knew that the Dothraki detested any use of protection, he wasn't willing to lose soldiers just because his pride wouldn't bend, and if that didn't do it, then he would break it. 

So without wasting any time, he started spurring on hundreds and hundreds of pieces of armor, and by forcing the Dothraki to put them on, he made his army of Dothraki savages look more intimidating and 'ready'. 

It wasn't until several minutes later, that the now-full Khalasar was wearing steel armor and the horses were wearing diamond armor. 

Realizing that everyone was ready, Azrael spurred his horse, causing it to run in the direction where, according to Qrano, the other Khalasar. 

With a thousand shouts and sounds, the Khalasar made his presence known as he rode down the hillside, glimpsing from the height above as the other Khalasar quickly organized with his Khal at the head, ready to face Azrael's Dothraki. 

A few meters away, members of both Khalasars fired their arrows, hitting their targets and opening a path of blood and death. 

However, the only arrows that achieved that were those fired by Azrael's Khalasar, since with the help of their armor and protection, the enemy arrows were harmless, bouncing off the moment they hit them. 

The enemy Khal, Barbo called, opened his eyes a little when he saw that a Khalasar wore armor, especially since this made them not die easily, but contrary to expectations, to Khal Barbo, that made him even angrier, not willing to lose against Dothraki who wore armor like cowards. 

"Sprach!" 

The loud sound of clashing metal was heard as both Khalasars met, engaging in combat and creating a scene full of death and chaos. 

Azrael rode his horse, cleaving a path like a hot knife through butter, with the help of his wolves and blood riders, managing to kill several Dothraki with his handiwork. 

Every time he saw an enemy Dothraki or cut off a head, Azrael smiled cruelly and mockingly, with almost palpable satisfaction, giving one to wonder if the Dothraki way had entered his bones, if Dothraki savagery and cruelty, one of the most barbaric 'societies', hated by many and feared by all, had captivated Azrael, or if he had always been like that, only that the order, laws, and rules of the modern world had prevented him from letting out that inhuman side inherent to him. 

There was no right answer, but what was clear was that Azrael's power had gone to his head—the power to command a life, to allow who lived or who died—something that this world offered and gave on a silver platter to its inhabitants at all times. 

But what was most clear, was that the man, who now rode a black steed and commanded an army that could be considered almost unstoppable, was not the same man who stood that day in that desert alone, wanting to know where he was, and which was full of uncertainty and confusion. 

A sleeping side had risen; it remained to be seen if Azrael would realize it before it blinded him and made him make incorrigible mistakes. 

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"How many deaths did we have?" Azrael asked once the situation calmed down, as he walked among several dead. 

"Incredibly, we only lost about sixty-three, some by being crushed by horses or thanks to an accurate arrow to the eye," Onno replied in surprise, making Azrael smile, who nodded and spat. "The armors did their job; see what I'm talking about, how much we can accomplish?" 

His seven blood riders with him nodded, agreeing that those armors worked well and understanding why many wore them. 

"My Khal! My Khal!" I came running in a slave girl full of haste and anxiety. 

However, her state only caused Qrano to stop her: "Whoa, whoa, calm down and be quiet."

"But it's important!" the woman shouted again, only to receive a hard stare from Qrano. 

Azrael, from his place, spoke to Qrano: "Wait, let her talk." 

The man only stared for a few seconds at the slave girl, then moved out of her way, giving Azrael vision to see her.

"My Khal, Amanda, has been attacked, and Essino is wounded." 

That alone was enough for Azrael and his blood riders to mount their horses and ride to where Essino should be with Amanda. 

When they arrived at the scene, Azrael saw the bodies of several of his Khalasar's Dothraki, with eight others being held tightly by other men, and an Essino lying on the ground, with a deep wound in his chest. Immediately, Azrael had him take a regeneration potion, causing the warrior's condition to improve by leaps and bounds. 

"Amanda, where is Amanda?" Azrael asked, receiving only a direction from Essino's hand. 

Looking in that direction, Azrael saw the donkey he had given Amanda, its back covered in blood. Concern quickly showed on Azrael's face, and he broke into a run towards the donkey. 

When he reached him, he saw Amanda's frail body on the ground near the animal, with a cut on her neck and her face full of bruises and bumps. 

"Amanda? Amanda, dammit!" Azrael said, holding the woman's body in his arms, as he felt the cold body of the woman he had grown fond of. 

"She's been dead for several minutes, my Khal" Essino was heard saying in the background, but Azrael didn't look up, still looking at Amanda's face, who still had her eyes open. 

"What happened?" Azrael asked, running his hand over Amanda's face gently and closing her eyes. 

"Some people didn't like the idea of not riding the Lhazareen women, and even though the order was theirs not to do so, being passed on by Amanda, who to them was still a slave, they didn't take it so well," Essino replied, regretting not being able to protect the woman. 

"Bring them in," Azrael suddenly said, earning some stares from his blood riders, especially because of his tone of voice, which sounded like a dead person talking to you. 

The blood riders looked at each other for a moment, only to nod to each other and go to fetch the eight Dothraki, who were struggling to break free from the bindings on their hands. 

"Let me go, you bloody traitor!" 

"He'll never be like us, protecting slaves, wearing armor, falling off his horse—it's blasphemy that he's our Khal!" 

"And yet it says that the great stallion blessed him; HAHAHA, he can suck my cock!" 

Those and several more insults shouted the men, earning blows to their stomachs or heads to shut them up. 

"SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!" Azrael roared in rage, earning silence from all the screaming Dothraki and those tied up. 

"I could have killed them all when I killed their former Khal! Cut off their legs and left them in that shitty desert to die, yet; I took them as my people, fed them, and gave them horses—a far greater purpose than they would have for their entire miserable lives!" shouted Azrael to the eight Dothraki who were tied up and kneeling in front of him. However, it seemed the scolding was meant for all of them. 

"Still, you have not accepted my orders; you whinny like horses every time I teach you something new, not accepting that it is for your advancement and comfort, but I've had enough! From now on, he who does not obey me, who does not obey the orders I send out, even if I send them with a damned dog, will die!" makes Azrael clear, walking away from the captive Dothraki and going to Essino. 

"Kill them," ordered Azrael, as his gaze fell, and he became immersed in his thoughts. 

Essino, without hesitation, approached the captives, and as he was about to cut off the head of one, Azrael stopped him. "Stop! I have something much better!" 

Essino looked at Azrael with a strange look, only to see how Azrael held a shiny book in his hands, unable to recognize the strange book. 

Feeling a bad feeling, he turned away from the captives, just as Azrael extended his right hand toward one of the captives. With that, like a flash of lightning, a small light with blinding speed shot out of Azrael's hand and struck the Dothraki.

"AHHHHHH!" The Dothraki immediately began to scream in agony and pain, as he watched his body burn at a steady speed, leaving no bones or ligaments behind, with his body scattering like smoke and ashes blown by the wind. 

Fortunately, his agony lasted no more than seven seconds; however, those seconds must have been eternal for him. Whatever Azrael threw took effect, leaving as evidence only a small fistful of black, foul-smelling ash on the ground. 

Azrael, seeing the effect of the curse, nodded and, without wasting time, did the same with the other seven remaining Dothraki. Watching as they died horrifically, leaving no evidence of their existence in this world.

In the end, Azrael learned that the vanishing curse not only served to make an object disappear if the player died, but on this plane, it had the option to make any object disappear, whether dead or alive, as had been shown with the rebel Dothraki.