Lion Head Mesa bread & beer

The ink black heart of Akhtar grew darker with oil slick by the day. He had gone, he had seen, observed, but it seemed as though he had been set free for a time.

The priest did not like this. He had not lost his mind in those desert dunes for this.

In aggravation did his bowl strike the floor, swept off its pedestal by a carelessly flung forelimb. He stood, staring at it for a moment, before he released an inarticulate sound of rage and stormed out of his rooms. He needed air, yes! Fresh, beautiful air!

As soon as he exited the caverns, the call reached his ears, and who was he to ignore it? 

He came on light feet, heavy lidded eyes catching sight of the sinew man and his ice eyes even from this distance.

He wanted to smile, coy, like a cat, but he kept his smile nice. Akhtar waved his tail in the air as he came closer, placid, like a dairy cow.

Many greetings~! What brings you to the borders of Akashingo?