Dox, raven haired and pale eyed, bathed ceremoniously in the cold river spring that ran within the large Oasis city of Satel. It was known by many as the capital of the Orjun tribe. They were a proud people. They were a superstitious people. Their gods demanded sacrifice every 20 years. A sacrifice to fend off illness, disease. A sacrifice to ensure prosperity, strength, and protection. A human sacrifice. Dox, wide eyed, freckled faced and not even 20, was that sacrifice.<br/><br/>She had grown up within the walls of Satel. She wanted for nothing, from an outsider's point of view. Dox grew up feasting upon only the most decadent of fruits, the heartiest meats. She was always clothed in finery and lived within the fortressed walls of the capital citiy's only castle. But her home was a prison. Dox had never seen what lay beyond Satel's walls. She rarely went anywhere without armored guards. Her only interaction was with servants trained to raise her as a sacrifice should be. Her entire life, Dox knew she would die. Her body and mind were hardened with the idea that should her chosen escort perish, she would continue on to finish her life's mission.<br/><br/>And so, Dox's ceremonial journey began with her bathing within the cold river spring. She was alone within an open courtyard, her only companion being an elderly woman. She was bent with age, heavy lids hid a sharp gaze, and spindly fingers held onto an embroidered robe over thin arms. Dox lathered scented soaps over her lithe form. Markings covered her shoulders and back, it was the dark script of an ancient tongue, pressed upon her at a young age.<br/><br/>Cleaned and robed, Dox was led barefoot from the spring to her room by the old woman. Within the walls of her large and lavishly decorated rooms, Dox was dressed in a form fitting gown of silks. Sashes were tied to her hips and silken slippers adorned Dox's feet. She was a myriad of navys and golds while upon her neck hung jewels of greens and blues. Dox's hair hung loose down her back, thick and full. Her youthful face was calm, even if the slight biting of a full bottom lip hinted at nervousness. Darkness had fallen upon Satel as the sun set, however the city was anything but. Torches lit the streets, fires burned. There was laughter, food, wine. The Festival of the Sacrifice was a time for celebration. The people of the Orjun tribe would gaze upon the face of their Sacrifice this night. They would bid farewell to the young woman and pray to their Provider for her safe journey, all while feasting and dancing.<br/><br/>The leader of Setal and the Orjun people stood upon a raised platform in the city's marketplace. The river spring ran along the outermost part, greenery blooming along the River's edge. The platform was temporary, upon it there was a table for three. The rest of the marketplace was lined with rows upon rows of food. People walked the rows, helping themselves to the massive spread. Or they danced to the lively music the musicians played along the marketplace walls.<br/><br/>All activity ceased, however, as the Orjun Chief cleared his throat. He began telling the history of the Orjun tribe, speaking of the first chief's conversation with the Provider and the beginning of their 20 year sacrifice before motioning Dox onto the platform. The people cheered for her and looked upon her markings, her open backed gown only aiding in their stares. She hated it. Her entire life had been in solitude and now she was being thrust into the spotlight. It was uncomfortable. Mercifully, The chief spoke a prayer over her in an unknown tongue before motioning for her to sit at the table set for three. He would introduce her escort and guide next and Dox was curious at who the pair would be.