I am not much of a writer, but I thought I'd give you a hint at leats of teh story i my mind...
The holy crusaders of Shairat were unleashed from their ancient tombs, wher they had slept for millenia, imprisoned for their pride. But when the world fell under the raging sandstorm, they were forgotten, as the people went into hiding. For ages the menacing storm ruled the once beautiful white dunes of Shairat, and the people suffered underground, slowly forgetting the sight of both sun and sky, forgetting the touch of warmth during the day, and the cool breeze offered by the night.
It was not until a young boy ventured deep into the caverns of old, and found a way through ancient seals, and entered the temple of the crusaders. There he found their tombs, and above each one, a name carved in the wall. He went from grave to grave, saying speaking the name aloud in wonder. His innocence freed the spirits of the long dead crusaders.
Roused from the darkness, they were bewildered at first, then angered at their sentence, but finally worried and stricken with love for their suffering people. They flowed silently through the caverns, and drank the memorys of their patrons. Soon they were powerful again, and they sprang upward, through mountainrock and sands.
The air above was filled with sharp sand and evil winds. But the great spirits were phantoms now, and they carried the sorrow of their patrons like blades in their manes. They flew like arrows, and the sand was tamed under their hooves, and gave them bodily substance once more. So armed with the desert itself, they charged at the wallcloud of windsand. Ghosts and not, they were the holy warriors once more, and battled the evil SandStorm.
I had this uploaded previously for a short while, under the name Palestorm. After some critique I decided to take it down and work some more on it. It took on a new shape!
If you think it's too pale and bright, turn your monitor down a bit - it looks nice on my screen, and I wanted it pale.
Link to detail at 100%