The Omani Empire now rules most of East Africa. They rule the Comorians, the Kalenjins, the Kikuyu, the Kirundi, the Zulus, the Luganda, the Luo, the Sara, the Somalis, the Tigre, the Tigrinya, and the Tswana...just to name a few. Hell, they even rule some of their fellow Arabs in the east Sahara.
Naturally, the Omani Sultan has viceroyals, who rule these lands in his stead. As much as he hates to admit it, he can't be all over his own empire at once.
These are the Tigre Highlands. From time to time, things are just a little cooler, and greener, here. In some secluded spots up here, it feels like the Himalayas.
Here and there, cherry and rhododendrons grow. But more abundantly yet, mountain-ashes do. As a matter of fact, the Viceroy who lives here seems to cultivate them.
He rules on high, atop a rock, surrounded by his precious mountain-ashes. Vulturine guineafowl scurry here and there. Turacos perch on the mountain-ash branches, and preen their gorgeous feathers.
A walia ibex stands atop a rock, showing off his very long, and very curved horns. He's worked hard and lived long to make his horns that impressive...
Here and there, civets scurry. They become especially devious at night. But then, odds are, the lord of this great estate means for that to be that way...
In the estate's great hall, there's a trio of aardwolves. They all wear metal collars with spikes. In the absence of Cerberus, these three aardwolves will have to do. Too bad their reputation isn't as bad as the spotted hyena... Even so, aardwolves look better. Plus, spotted hyenas make worse pets.
A mighty black man, the lord of this estate sits on his throne. Most of his throne is sculpted to resemble the parts of a mountain-ash tree. Meet Viceroy Eli. With more than one good reason, they call him the Rowan King.
His estate's maids are Sino-Tibetan...and he pays them all to dress like sluts. They bring him metal bowls of mutant grapes; the grapes are genetically modified to look orange, rather than pink. (This, in Eli's opinion, makes them look more like rowan berries...even if they aren't so.)
Plucking them from their stems in handfuls, he eats many. In a winery downhill, wine is made from the ones he can't eat...and sold to other Omani viceroys, as well as the monarchs of weaker countries that the Omani Sultan's been too lazy to conquer. It's a mystery, as to how such kings can afford such wine...
One of Eli's maids ascends towards his throne...and stops, when one of the aardwolves snarls. There, she bows. Eli smiles, as he gets a splendid view down her blouse; one that he picked out for her, of course...
"Your Highness," she addresses him in a thick Eastern accent, "Samuel is due any day now."
At this, Eli grins. "Thanks for telling me." With that, he stands, and descends his throne...from behind. His three aardwolves stay where they are, and patrol the throne.
Below, there are dungeons. Down here, Eli works on some very dangerous projects...mostly in the name of espionage and special operations forces. Eli calls this spot in his estate B613.
Down here, bellows pump themselves. As a result, furnaces burn brighter than stars...so to speak. Grills are a big thing down here...as is smelting. Spare chains hang from some of the vaults.
A few items in Dungeon B613 resemble small ironclad battleships. In reality, they're gestation tanks. In one of them, at least, one of the most dangerous vamp hunters Oman has ever known gestates.
This is Samuel. One day, after he's "born," he'll do these East African Provinces FAR more than proud...
Through a porthole in the top, one can see Samuel's developing babyface. It's not as baby-ish as it would've been months ago. Eli's maids have added chemicals to the embryonic fluid to help age the embryo to perfection faster. By the time he's "born," he'll resemble a twenty-two-year-old newborn.
On a table nearby, an assembly of firearms lie. They look nothing like the muskets that were used to fight the Napoleonic Wars.
Eli arrives, and picks one up...with one hand. He drops an orange-glowing round into the chamber, and seals the chamber. With one hand, he holds it high, and pulls the trigger. A geyser of fire emerges from it...and stays lit, for as long as Eli's finger is on the trigger.
He sets it down, and picks up another. Again, he can hold it with one hand. This time, he drops a purple-glowing round into the chamber. Once he's loaded it, he acknowledges a window with bars in it, aims the firearm, and pulls the trigger.
A ray of UV light shines all over the stonework surrounding the window. It...even goes as far as IDing the kinds of rock that support the windows' bars...
This, naturally, is an anti-vamp weapon. The flamethrower is just a spec-ops weapon; too bad Eli can't find anyone to invest in it. The Pinkertons in the NAU think they might...but so far, they've yet to make a bid.
At last, Eli stands over the casket, inside which Samuel gestates. For some reason, this reminds him of a VERY special passage in the Bible; the one where Samuel first heard the voice of Jehovah...as a boy being raised by a man named none other than Eli.
"My dear child," Eli says down to his son-yet-to-be-born, "one day, as you sleep...the voice of your calling will come to you, petitioning for your aid. When that day comes, I'll see to it that you say these very words, in whatever sequence feels best for you:
"Speak, my Lord...for I listen."
Sam's too young to hear Eli, of course. But one day, his egg will hatch. And when that day comes, it'll be up to young Samuel to decide whose cause is worth his expensive commitment.
