"Within our storied realm there be, few as well-versed in courtesy." This time, the speaker materializes upon the throne to your left—a reclining figure swathed in shimmering veils the color of a desert sunset. Prince Marazho, master of deserts. Despite his diaphanous nature, each silken layer seems to contain a faint, shifting pattern reminiscent of tiny hieroglyphs. "Well met, thou well-spoken shade," the zebra rumbles in a smoky alto. "Thy purpose plied, let it now fade."