A traveler comes upon an incredible find, a Djinn’s bottle! The traveler eagerly rubs the enchanted vessel, only to discover that the bottle is empty. Good news, the vessel is accepting new entrants with all the powers that implies. Bad news, the vessel is in the middle of nowhere and not very large on the inside… -- Deathshead419
Something had turned a once-great city into ruins, but the drifting sands and bones of the buildings gave no clues. The plants that still thrived had conquered many streets, and had dominated the palace. Wildlife hunted each other where markets had once thrived.
This was the exact kind of place that Hazoreth Smith loved to investigate.
If anywhere was going to house a dangerous magical artifact that desperately needed to be kept away from the forces of malice, it was this place. Of course, such a thing would be at the other end of a set of ingenious and mysteriously functional traps. The biggest mystery being how they could remain efficacious after centuries of neglect.
Hazoreth Smith had his wits, an extensive knowledge of history and culture, and a whip. He was prepared for everything.
Everything except finding the artifact in the still-standing halls of a surviving house.
A D'jinni lamp! Just sitting there out in the open.
Well. At least it was a relatively easy problem to solve. One wish could send the lamp and its occupant far from where they could do civilisation any harm. Bloody dangerous item, stupidly easy disposal method.
Miles better than a warehouse inside a mountain on an uncharted island miles from anywhere.
Now... which way to activate it? Most D'jinni vessels were activated by cleaning, though bottles had to be unsealed. He hoped that this lamp wasn't activated by lighting it. Fire D'jinn had atrocious tempers.
A little drop of brass polish on a kerchief, and careful focus on cleaning off the dirt. There was a flash of light, a swirl of magical smoke and particles of sparkle.
Something happened.
It was not the appearance of the D'jinni that should have been inside.
Hazoreth Smith blinked, discovering himself in a very small apartment dating back to the Mursilian Empire. Comfortable for a hot, dry atmosphere. In fact, this was a hot, dry atmosphere.
There was a fountain to cool the air down. A breezy colonnade surrounding a very small garden. A fig tree. A date palm. A few other equatorial plants in just enough space to grow them. Rooms similar to that of a peasant's dwelling of the era, but with debatable functionality.
And no doors.
The view outside the carved lattice of the windows was orange-brown, and it smelled of... lamp oil?
Hazoreth Smith reached for his whip... and found only the cloth sash of a Mursilian slave. He looked down to find the voluminous pants of the class, simple shoes, and golden bracers on his wrists.
Oh no. Oh gods.
Someone must have wished the last D'jinn free. That must have been what depopulated the city.
The lamp, empty of its occupant, was hungry for its purpose. Containing a power close to that of a god in one small, convenient package.
Hazoreth Smith could do anything at all... but only once summoned by someone who wished on the lamp. In the meantime, he was stuck in a D'jinni's accommodations, and eating the same food that a Mursilian slave got to allegedly enjoy.
No wonder they were all pissed off when someone summoned them.
[Photo by Jayachandran VS on Unsplash]
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