His tribesmen believed that all pilgrimages begin and end with this journey to the cave of Mother Mathayay. Hunger and thirst was taking a toll on his energy reserves.He had a tall lean and muscular frame, draped in red robes and traditional silver jewelery and tattoos all over his body.
He saw a mountain goat, captured it, had his meal in the night and carried the rest with him, in the afternoon, vultures started to hover over his head, looking for their share of the goat flesh.
Half of his energy was lost in warding them off , in the night after the last meal of the goat flesh he left the remains for the jackals and foxes.
He was assigned the task to collect the remainder of the secret texts from the cave before it falls into the wrong hands. They contained esoteric knowledge and magical chants.He found those chants painted on the walls,he would read them first, memorise and then scoop and erase them off the walls.
This took him an entire day, soon he was on his way back, he followed the regular course of the stars as indicated by the nightsky.However he was not aware that the magic chants that he touched and remembered were causing illusions before his eyes.
What he thought were stars were actually magical lights, spread across the desert, he was simply in his hurry not paying any attention to decipher them.As a result he lost his way and went deeper into the desert, mid-day sun sapped away the last drop of his energy. Thinking about all the knowledge that would be lost he started writing those magical symbols and chants on the dunes.
Shifting sands leave no marks behind, those symbols were blown away by the wind, he lost consciousness and fell on the sand. Well, knowledge has its own way and will of propagating itself, a caravan going to the east spotted him and took him along, when he woke up, he was lying on a bed in a tent, an arabian slave girl was tending for him.
In his hazy state he was constantly murmuring those chants, causing all kinds of magical beings to appear and disappear before the caravan people. He summoned the ancient spirits of the desert.
The caravan thought of him to be some kind of spiritual master and took great care of him and he was recieved like a king in their city.
Orgusan's fame and fortune grew to enormous proportion, and news traveled through the winds to his people. Worried they decided to protect what was sacred, they sent out a batch of trained warriors along with the old medicine man of their tribe to retrieve the information from him.
The native healer stood by the outskirts of the city and re assimilated all the knowledge floating in the air and tied it around his talisman, the warriors went to capture him and stop him from using it for his and others selfish purposes. He ordered his guards and slaves to not let anyone reach him, but those warriors were trained by powerful masters, they disguised themselves as a windstorm and captured him.
His memories are still buried in the great deserts of Africa, every once in a while when the wind blows with great force some of those chants resonate with the wind, spreading and keeping the magic alive in nature, guarded by its own force and spreading at its own will.