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Servants of the Old ones

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#1
Huakroataxa wandered around the dungeon complex, bitter and bored. The thought of the weasling diplomacy he had just committed with the vampires tasted sour in his mouth. Now, they had left for some frivolous, meaningless afair and left him to wander the dungeons.

He had been reaquainted with his war gear, and of that he was glad. The cold no longer bit at him, and his movements were back to their regular stolid pace rather than the moving-through-pecari-fat pace he had been forced to keep in the death chill of Sylvania.Xalot was stabled safely, and Mon-ti was draped over his shoulders, asleep.

He had mapped out the area in his head. It was primarily filled with cells, and there were various forms of torture equipment scattered around. He had inspected a few of these, and found them wanting; the tortured devices of the large-eyed, east-of-home humans were crude, and quite simple minded. The screaming he had heard earlier could feasibly be wrought with such devices, but the victim was likely to be to brutalised afterwards to be used as much more than salamander feed.

Now, the thin-eyed, west of home humans were the other extreme. Their devices and methods were much to elaborate, spanned multiple fields of the sciences and blacker disciplines, and had over time become more of an artform than an information process. To put anything in pain for entertainment was distasteful.

He peered into a cell, where a mother ghoul was nursing her young. The obscene creature bared blackened teeth to the Lizardman, who snarled back, before moving on. Innapropriate.

Now, he had only used one torture methods in his previous life as a scar veteran, normally on Thrall's or Necromancers, vampires generally being more valuable dead than anything and other forms of the dead being either too stupid to gain anything useful from or immune to pain. It was a simple one; he would merely milk the venom of the Swirling-sunblade frog (or rather have a skink attendant do it, he had a tendency to crush the rare frogs), and then applied a small portion of the poison to the eyes of his victim.

Anything man could do with his tools, the old ones could to thrice better with their creatures. The Swirling-sunblade frog gained its name from the sensation it caused when it sprayed its venom into a predators eyes. Never having experienced it himself, Huakroataxa could not vouch for its potency but judging by the way victims flayed around shrieking for, say, four hours trying to bash their own brains out on anything close to hand it was easy to assume its power. Thats why he had always had a Saurus warrior grasp the victim whilst the process occured (usually one in need of disciplinary action; holding a writhing screaming human is a tedious task).

After the Victim calmed down, they were usually ready to talk. However, the weakness of the process was that many mammilian species, humanity included, rapidly developed an immunity to the venom after five, maybe four applications, with each application getting weaker and weaker. Especially stoic victims had managed to wheather the full of the storm, after which Huakroataxa was inclined to end there suffering and sacrifice them to the old ones; such a brave heart would be received warmly, he felt.



Huakroataxa reached another filled cell, the inhabitant an old and whithered man, his grey beared falling to the floor despite being manacled to the wall. The poor wretch was nearly dead, so Huakroataxa moved on. Innapropriate.


Of course, as a Servant of Lord Gargoq he knew of other, more sacred methods. On the seventh ascention of the star of deep-fires, Lord Gargoq decreed thus "The predator becomes the prey."

As of that day, the servants of Lord Gargoq the Quaxocibiki had practised the Ritual of Feeding. Once the dust of the battlefield had cleared, and due sacrifice had been made, the warriors would pick the battlefield for the strongest warriors they had slain, before feasting on their flesh. Eat the limbs for strength, devour the heart for courage, drink the blood for vitality. Feast on the brain for intelect.

It was Edi-izard who had perfected the ritual, so that he would gain not only the intelligence but also the knowledge of an enemy. Many a time had Huakroataxa burst open a skull for the tiny mage, watched him savour the creamy texture before spurting out long lines of rapidly spoken prophecy, concerning enemy movements, location ect ect.


Of course, the practise was less common when fighting the undead. Eating rotted flesh soured the insides of the warriors, and though solid warriors of the old ones, fighting whilst incontinent would sap anyones morale.


Huakroataxa strode on, and a promising scent reached his nostrils. He quickened his pace slightly, arriving at yet another cell. There was a young human there, with its eyes removed. It had the look and scent of a fighter, eager for revenge. He would not achieve his own, but he would assist Huakroataxa's.

"Bonjour? Qui va là-bas?" The youth yelped, leaping to his feet. "Prendre la parole maintenant, fétide créatures mortes! Je ne serai jamais proposer!"

Huakroataxa grabbed two of the cells bars, and pushed them appart. They were not designed to hold creatures of his ilk.

"Je peux vous entendre! Vous en sortir, je suis\avertissement vous laisser maintenant! Je suis un Brettonian cavalerie, formés dans l'art de la guerre!"

The lizardman warrior grabbed the much smaller human, and in on rapid movement swept him up and slammed him into the ground, snapping his spine and bursting open his cranium. Huakroataxa watched the shocked, eyeless expression on his face gradually stop twitching, framed by growing pool of skull fluid mixed with blood and brain matter. He tore off the youths shirt, and made a deep incision down the youths stomach with his claw, exposing his viscera, before rousing Mon-Ti

The winged serpants lidless eyes began to move, and the serpant stretched its feathered wings and slid down the warrior, then slipped inside the Brettonian and began to feast. The hunter, or rather, he who had hunted the dead kneeled where the serpent was feasting, and inwardly debated whether he was fit to call upon the Gods.

If he didnt, though, he would never be suitable to call on them again...

He extended his left hand, and with his right raked his fore claw against his dark blue skin causing a deep cut, the physical pain dull in comparison to his inner turmoil. He let the blood flow into the spongy, convoluted flesh that Mon-ti was eating, allowing the snake to consume his cold blood along with the sacrificed flesh.

He descended to his knee, spread out his arms and raised his palms to the roof.

Sotek, deliverer of my people, Saviour of the lizardmen, devourer of our enemies, I beseech you. I am lost and alone in foreign lands, captured by my enemies. I am shamed and brought very low. I implore you; do not allow me to shame you, your servant-race nor myself anylonger. I request, knowing that I am undeserving, only one thing; Grant me death, or Grant me the means by which I may have my vengeance.
 
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#2
Quezalat thumped his way through Nexeternus' silent halls; the echoes ringing back from the cold stone. Larekoth followed, subdued and hunched as to not destroy the ceiling. One of Simon's Baalak Ghul servants scuttled through a crossway; a snarl from the Oldblood backed up by a rumbling growl by his mount sent the changed Ghoul scurrying away.

Larekoth reared in a higher hall; sniffing the air in a rare and distinct manner. One stomp and a snarl-turned-howl later, Quezalat knew the exact reason; competition. The beast had sensed another of its kind, and it set off in pursuit. As the Saurus stomped after his mount, his mind turned to reasons. Had that blasted Druchii returned?

Managing to place himself in front of the charging Cold One, he braced himself and dug one clawed foot into the stone floor. The impact was titanic; Quezalat was sent reeling and Larekoth fell onto its side, utterly ruining a nearby mosaic. The massive beast stood up after a long few seconds, lowering its head submissively. The Scar-Leader wrenched himself upwards out of the dent in the wall, and found he had just missed a massive iron-bound door. Guessing that this was what his mount was moving towards, he wrenched it open, sending musty air blowing past. Inside was a kneeling Saurus.
 
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#3
There was a thump and a crash that caused masonry and dust to descend from the ceiling. Huakroataxa rose to his feet and snarled, ready to disembowl whatever had just interrupted his abasements, as the doors of the dungeon where wrenched open.

Huakroataxa trailed of mid challenge. Before him stood an oldblood and a behemoth cold one; incredibly old by the ossification of his scales. Before Huakroataxa, stood one of his own kind... He quickly realised he was staring, and descended to one knee, head bowed. For centuries, he had seen not one of his own kind except in still pools and shattered glass. Sotek delivers, Sotek delivers, Sotek delivers...

There was another Crash, and an immence roar. Huakroataxa startled once more, and turned around to see Xalot pounding through the dungeon with a nightmares head in her mouth. Huakroataxa braced himself in what was known as the Kwezlet position, an ancient technique handed down from saurus to saurus, and received the cold ones impact. He redirected the force sidwards, and the cold one stumbled and fell, before arising to be glared down by her master.

Huakroataxa turned to apoligise, but the words stuck in his throat. Something was ammiss. He looked to the flickerings lights brightening the room; he blessed blade was burned thrice as brightly as before. The Old-Bloods Cold one seemed more nervous than agressive, though much larger than Xalot, and a male!

With a steady, deliberate pace, Huakroataxa took Mon-ti up from the sacrifices innards, and placed him gently inside his basket on Xalots saddle, before taking up a cautious position; sheild raised, sword held poised to strike. He gradually approached the old one, but once he was close enough to notice any detail in the firelight of his blade, the obsinite weapon began to sputter, and dimmed a little. The room seemed colder than before, and the gigantic cold one's glazed glint turned to one of aggression rather than caution.

Huakroataxa took a few steps back, and the cold one's deep growl trailed off. Xalot had backed down also, not taking a submissive posture but aware something was deeply wrong. The Blessed Blade of Purging returned to its original lustre, and Huakroataxa's body was warmed.

However, his heart remained chilled, as he tried to wrench his thoughts away from what was becoming steadily more and more obvious.

"No..." He muttered, "no....'

"NO!" He roared, causing the vampires captives to startle, arousing an immence commotion. How, how could this happen?

"What are you!?" He uttered in a tone heavy with disgust and bitter disillusionment.
 
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#4
Quezalat was just as shocked to find a servant of the Old Ones here in the Council's dungeons. As the Cold One charged its way across the arena, the Oldblood stood stock-still as the younger Saurus threw aside his own mount.

As the Scar-Veteran stalked slowly towards him, the blessedly familiar words of Low Saurus rang out through the arena. Planting the bone blade of the Vengeance into the sandy ground of the room, Quezalat assumed a superior stance, similar to a general instructing his lieutenants, and spoke in the same tongue, though in a more gravelly, halting tone due to the ages past since his last utterance.
"Thalak Rei. First Warden of Itza and.... Why are you stationed here. Did the Vampires cage you?"

(OOC: Depending on how far back Huakroataxa has read the plaques, he may or may not recognize Quezalat's ceremonial name. Up to you.)
 
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#5
Thalak...Oh Gods no...

Thalak Rei, Qu Mundi Itz'xa'khanx Ax Cuaq Itz'xa'khanx Ataxa was one of the old annal-plaques scriven by skink attendents. They depicted three highly powerful slann assisting the Natural elves, who plied the ocean and dwelled where the Old ones decreed they should, against the rebel faction that would develop into the hated-elves. The Three mighty Slann were naturally main characters, but as the older annals were written to instruct, and slann need no instruction, the text focused on a ancient and venerable Old blood, known as Thalak Rei. The legend speaks of one who implored repeatedly to serve in the temple guard.

The story is one of failure, of reaching out for goals you are unsuitable to serve in. Talak Rei failed in his task, and was never heard of again. Some skink preists beleived that he had died, others that he had fled like a coward.
Unfortunately, as was testified by the hulking abomination before him, the truth was far, far worse.

This could only be Thalak Rei, who wore the flesh of a stegadon and weilded its crest. Only he who road on one of the first spawnings of Cold ones.

Huakroataxa stood warily, before replying. His register dropped; he now spoke as if to one of equal rank, rather than a superior, although his tone remained formal.

"I beleive the tasking of first warden has been passed on since your...departure, Thalak Rei of Itza. That noble position is held by Krox-laqroq, the spine tearer. I am Huakroataxa, known amongst ours as the Hunter of the Dead."

He placed special emphasis on those last words.

"I was tasked by the venerable Mage Preist Lord Gargoq the Quaxocibiki to hunt the dead. I have been completing my task for several hundred years now, and I plan to continue to do so. The vampires captured me, true, but I was offered a distasteful, but efficient compromise. I am to assist them in the destruction of the dread lord of death Nagash, in return for my own continued existance. Mark me; they will all suffer at my blade in due time, but I would hardly be an adequate servant of the old ones as a pile of bones."

He cast a disdainful eye over the corpse-saurus.

"It seems you number amongst them. It saddens me to think that not even our kind, second in the old ones favour only to the mighty slann are still subject to the curse of vampirism."


((Does Quezalat know of the assention of Sotek? If so how, and does he know of the blood sacrifice the Lizardmen began to employ as time went on?))
 
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#6
"But, as the Venerable Lord truly said, 'Once the Warden, always the Warden', Huakroataxa, servant of the Mage-Priests."

Noticing the younger Saurus' discourtesy of tone, he guessed he had read plaques that had detailed his failure. His hopes for this encounter took a heavy blow.

The Scar-Veteran's wording of the curse of his state rang hard in Quezalat's mind, but the vicious distaste that the words were delivered in roused the Oldblood's ire.

"Saurus wanderer, in my new-granted form I could defeat any three of the Slann's current guardians. I could stand vigil, untiring, unflinching on the most revered Mage-Priests of the Temple-Cities. I hunt unendingly and unfailingly. The power of the Old Ones surges through me and invigorates me so that I may serve them infinitely! I have been given a second chance, by the grace of Itzl, Quetzl, Chotek and Tlazcotl, Thalak Rei serves always!"


(OOC: He would know that something major did happen, but he wouldn't know specifics such as the rise of a new Old One. The Lizardmen blood sacrifice has been going on for a long time, so he would know about that. By the way, do you have a translation for that plaque name?)
 
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#7
"Did not the great Mazdamundi preach "If the Old ones did not create it, why does it exist?"

The statement came bourn on only the faltering wings of self righteousness. The thing still desired to serve. Yes, he was a deviant, but he was still a servant...

"True, you have gained more power, although your prowess over the current guard is surely bred of ignorance, but at what cost? The old ones already blessed our kind with immortality, so that is no benifit to you. All you gain is physical strength, the most unnatural form of magic. What use are those to the Mage Preists?"

Huakroataxa's brain struggled furiously in the pregnant pause that followed. Was it not also said that the Old ones work in mysterious ways? Was it not also said that the dead should remain thus? Was it not said that a Saurus' task was to exterminate the Things That Should Not Be?

Were not the relic preists, in a way, undead?

Huakroataxa almost physically balked, retreating from his own blasphemous thought. Of course not, it didnt make sense, he would not have been commanded to hunt his masters, his own kind...
Was not this thing of his own kind?

Seeking other, less tumultuous paths of thought, something of the old bloods defensive speech stood out. Given the historical...of course...

"Relic...oldblood..." The words came awkwardly. "You mention many of the primary deities of our pantheon, yet you do not mention Sotek. Do you not venerate him?"
Huakroataxa gestured towards his own blood hued crest


((Thalak Rei, Qu Mundi Itz'xa'khanx Ax Cuaq Itz'xa'khanx Ataxa Translates roughly as Thalak Rei, defender of the natural elves against the Dark-Hate elves Curse. I added the Ax, which means Chaos/antithesis/argument to emphasise the division between the high and dark elves.))
 
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#8
The young Saurus' reference to Quezalat as a "Relic Oldblood" restored what measure of his self-esteem had been lost from the unfriendly encounter, and stirred old feelings of loyalty. Like master, like servant. Relic-Priest, and Relic Oldblood.

When the other questioned about a "Sotek", he noticed that while the Scar-Veteran was clearly a product of a Sacred Spawning, he couldn't tell which Old One it had came from.

"Sotek? What is this Sotek? Tzunki, Huanchi, Tepok, these I know. Have the Mage-Priests obtained lost knowledge once again?"


(OOC: Cool. Where did you find that translator?)
 
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#9
Huakroataxa's heart warmed, and his tone shifted to one of awe and humility.
"Lost knowledge? No, Sotek revealed himself not in glyph and stone, but in fire and blood. I shall recount the coming of sotek."

"This is the coming of the Xa'Kota; our knowings of them were slim, to begin with. They putrescent creatures that walked like Lizardmen, but with the form of rank vermin. Some say that there arival was professied; I beleive they came to the world without warning, unwanted and unfeeling. They did not seem a major threat; it was said that perhaps you may see one or two, wandering lost in the jungles, delirious. To slay one was a mercy killing."

"Over two thousand years ago our empire had been at peace. For many years, the only threat to that peace had been the Cuaq Itz'xa'khanx, but there minds were set on artifacts and looting as opposed to true conquest, and thus they could not penetrate our defences far. Beneath the surface of our homland however, something stirred. The Xa'kota, without our blessing or even understanding, had dug a vast, filthy tunnel system below Quetza, and there had been spawning legions of rat-things for over a thousand years."

"I will speak of the coming of the Xa'kota Ataxa;The Xa'Kota where not of our land, it seemed that they had fled here for some unknown reason, and as they were not of our land our land rejected them. It struck them with many and myriad disease, fevers and poxes. As they bred in their thousands, they died in their thousands until there warrens started to choke with corpses. In there delirium, they cried out to there single twisted, conniving god; the horned rat. They took lizardmen from the surface, the odd skink, the occasional saurus, then sacrificed them using poor techniques and blashphemous methods, praising a god worthy only of extermination. Our race still lay unaware and unconcerned; those that went missing were assumed to have been taken by the jungle."

"In return for there sacrifice, the vile Rat God gave them their Ataxa, their plagues and plague magiks. They began an unholy sect devoted to the worship of decay and disease. The first time we knew something amiss arived in a devestating form; spawning pools south of great Quetza were corrupted. It was not skinks that arose from the sanctified waters, but rather half-formed, pitiful mockeries of lizardmen. They crawled mewling on there stomachs, dragging themselves forth with whatever clubbed or twisted limbs they had. Mercifully, the old ones took them all within a few hours."

Huakroataxa was only recounting what he had learnt from the plaques, but even now, thousands of years after the event his heart was still bitter of the wrongs committed against his race. To defile a spawning pool, it was as if you had slain both mother and child, but not of a single generation, but thousands of generations. Remembering the styalized images of the 'plague spawning', Huakroataxa clenched his fist, before delving on.


"Immediately we suspected the new race; what was capable of such a vile act, other than the most vile creatures we had perceived since the coming of chaos? In our vengeance, we sought to exterminate the race, but unknowing of the vast thousands beneath Quetza, we sought only those on the surface. Those we found, we captured for sacrifice, ready to both apease the gods and repay sacrifice for sacrifice, balancing the accord of Justice.

Unfortunetely, without realising it, we had brought in their deaththroes the Xa'kota unleshed their sickness into the heart of Chaqua. Untold numbers died, and even the Mage preists began to sicken."

Huakroataxa allowed the last statement to sink in, before he continued.

"Chaqua was doomed. The population was totally ravaged, screams of pain and sighs of releif when one was released from the old ones servitude filling the city. And yet, in the sky, a portent of hope; a great comet, with the tongue of a serpant had begun to light up the sky. With there last, noble breaths, the Mage preists of Chaqua declared the revelation of a serpant god, before being taken into the temples. The temple guard sealed them in from the inside, allowing their blessed masters to die in the cool, with dignity."

"I will speak of the coming of Tehenhauin; with most of Chaqua dead, dying or sickened beyond use, the majority of those who could still work were skinks. And thus, the duty to herald the snake gods coming fell to a skink. Tehenhauin led the survivors of Chaqua out of the city, barely a tenth remained, and as he went he read from the plaques, telling of the coming of Sotek, the arival of the snake god, the Deliverer of the lizardmen. Look! says Tehenhauin. You see the serpant tongued comet, our deliverer is come! Let us summon him forth with sacrifice! Let us feed him the Xa'kota, so that he might be sate!"

"It was at this time that the vermin truly revealed themselves. Emboldened by the destruction of Chaqua, the revelation of their gods favour, they burst forth from their warrens expecting to exterminate therest of lustria in the same way. And yet their steel was met with our obsidian, with Tehenhauin leading the battle against a seemingly endless number of Rat-kin. Without mercy or hesitation, both sides battled for a century, the jungles around as ravaged as Chaqua. It is said that, coming across the fallen body of a Thunder Lizard, Tehenhauin says, How can such a mighty and majestic creature die thus? Shamed and defiled, look where the rat-kin have taken portion of his meat! They defile everything they touch, their tread is poison. Devote them to destruction!"

"At this time, we brought forth our most arcane artifacts, left for us by the old ones. Engines of the Gods, Sun-gleam sentinels, Blades of light. We scourged the Xa'kota with fire, purged and purified them. War spread across all lustria, and the collective mage preists withdrew for safety, and to meditate. Continue, say the Mage preists, the Rat-things have no part in the old ones plan, no right to tread on teh holy lands of Lustria. What corruption could have entered the great plan to bring such creatures into being? Continue, but do not sacrifice within the temple cities."

"And so our race made sacrifice in the Jungles, growing steadily greater and greater as the serpant tongued star grew greater and greater in the sky."


"I speak now of the Coming of Sotek; With the closing of this bloody century, Tehenauin gathered his followers. Look! The coming of sotek is upon us, says Tehenauin, let us greet him with a vast sacrifice. Gather many captives, and we shall sacrifice as never before!
And so with untold followers, and even greater numbers of Xa'kota captivs, Tehenhauin drew to the Altar of Portent, untouched since the Gods left us, and there caused the river Amaxon to greet the ariving Deity with the image of a crimson serpant. The comet filled the sky, before passing over.

A moment passed, and then Soteks manifest vengeance was revealed! A thousand thousand snakes were roused, and in a tide of slithering bodies descended on the Rat-kin's vile burrows, purging it of vermin. At the same time, invigorated with the wrath of the God, Tehenauin and this legion of skinks pressed back the Xa'kota, druving their backs to the sea. On the shores of Fuming Serpant Island the last clash was fought. Then, the vocano began to roar and from it emerged a snake with two tails, with a maw that could swallow five stegadons, as long as the rivers and as enraged as a bull carnosaur. Sotek emerged from the Volcano and drive the Rat-kin into the broiling waters, pursueing them even to the corners of the earth.

Thus is the coming of Sotek."

(pg 39 of the 7th ed Lizardmen army book. I've found it to be pretty useful!)
 
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#10
The Scar-Veteran's impassioned speech stirred old memories in his ancient audience. He hadn't seen such fanatical devotion since... himself, petitioning to ride with the Slann on their fatal expedition.

Feeling suddenly removed from this new world, Quezalat mentally sought out the roots that had brought him originally into it. The Scar-Leaders, he thought, in a sudden burst of cognition.

"Qua'Tlixili, Itz-Kai'Lot, Chaq'Xla'Kor, do these still live? Do they still serve the Old Ones, with blade and spirit?"
 
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#11
Quezalat seemed somewhat comforted by the information. Despite his abhoration for the vampiric race, Huakroataxa still felt a great love for his own. In his religious passion, he had forgotten to hate the Lizard-returned. Now, such a thing seemed almost petty. He was with one of his own, recounting the legends of lore, as he had done many times in the temple city caverns, with a hollowed skull filled to the brim with fermented honey and bee spawn.

Something seemed to arise in the other Saurus' mind. An old memory?
"Qua'Tlixili, Itz-Kai'Lot, Chaq'Xla'Kor, do these still live? Do they still serve the Old Ones, with blade and spirit?"
By the posture of his body, Huakroataxa could see the emotion behind the enquirey. He picked his memory, and answered as best he could.

"Before I left Lustria, I knew that Chaq'Xla'Kor still served. He was an Oldblood of some renown, although whether he still lives I cannot say. Qua'Tlixili is a name unknown to me, but I know of Itz'Kai'Lot."

Huakroataxa became quite uncomfortable, but continued to look the Old-blood directly in the eye and delivered the news.

" He served honourably for many years, but was brutally injured during an incursion of Chaos-worshiping humans. He lost his right leg and his arm from the elbow down. It is also said that the right side of his crest and face were rent...he is often reffered to as Itz'kai'lot of the waning moon. I beleive he fills the function of Drill instructor in Itza, helping the Saurus to perfect their techniques and skinks to, well, become aquainted with some."

There was no true shame in such a stationing, but... it seemed an inoble end to such a glorious career. Itz'Kai'Lot had once tidied up Huakroataxa's sheild swipe whilst the hunter of the dead was still a champion. It ired him to be corrected in front of his unit, but it was a technique he had learnt to favour over many years of service.

Never the less, an unfortunate stationing.
 

Trevy the Great

Vampire Progenitor
True Blood
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#12
Zosz stepped again through the dark dungeons of Nexeternus, his staff knocking on the stones of the floor and his vision peering into each cell in turn with pity or scorn at the inhabitants. He rounded a corner and was immediately greeted the form of several massive lizards, two of which were conversing in a low, guttural growls of Saurian. He shook his head as he whispered to himself, his voice rasping loudly on the walls of the dungeon.
"I knew we had forgotten something."
 
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#13
"Ich wusste, dass wir vergessen hatte etwas"
Huakroataxa's neck snapped towards the necromancer, and he emmitted a threatening reptilian hiss, again adopting an attacking stance.
Humans, serving the dead as readily as their true lords. How could it be that creatures formed by the Old ones hands could contain such selfish lusts that they abandon everything holy and turn to the paths of darkness, benefiting only themselves? Did they not know that their lives were short, and better spent serving the whole?

An individual was but a drop in the pool. Better the drop purify than taint.

"What I really dont understand," He said to his fellow lizardman "Is how you could bear the presence of these creatures for so many years. Why have YOU not returned to the Sacred Jungles?"
 
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#14
Impelling Larekoth to trot over to the intruding Necromancer and forcibly remove him, Quezalat digested the Hunter's words. Itz'Kai'Lot had been a close comrade; an immovable barrier with deadly precision. Qua'Tlixili had never been too fond of his name in Low Saurus, so he had mostly kept to his ceremonial name even in battle.

Short-tail, little short-tail... With a pang, he realized that he couldn't remember the full name of the closest person to a friend he ever had.

Huakroataxa's subsequent question startled him out of his thoughts.

"I.... you have... there are plaques relating to me, clearly. You know what happened. "

Quezalat skirted the issue, too caught up in the new sensation of interaction to dwell on his failure.
 
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#15
"Yes..." Huakroataxa was cautious, prying his eyes away from the necromancer. No doubt the vampires wanted him to hunt for them; a prospect he both welcomed and was repulsed by.

He picked his mind. He remembered the legends, true enough. Ah, the straight-path of truth is easy to tread, the path of deception leads into deep-jungles, as the saying went.
"The legends were recorded at a time when plaques were intended for instruction. Whoever wrote this one took a fairly negative view of your actions; they beleived that you should not have pressured to lead the temple guard, but instead have accepted without preference any mission you were tasked."
 
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Messages
424
#16
"The Venerable Lord trusted me with the ability to choose my own assignments, unless no other was fit to lead a certain expedition. He gave me my own volition, trusting in my instincts and desires. As the First Warden, I was the most fit to guard Tlamanti, Adaha-Quel and Quazlatl on that day. No other could have done better, and I paid my due price. "
 

Trevy the Great

Vampire Progenitor
True Blood
Joined
Mar 2, 2008
Messages
8,386
#17
"I'm sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but I think you are needed somewhere else." Zosz told the conversing Saurus, his gloved hand outstretched as if to ward off the massive lizards growling defensively at him. He wasn't sure if the Saurus could even understand him.
"Now, I will need to touch you of you to preform the spell." He told them, hand outstretched to Huakroataxa.
 
Joined
Oct 4, 2009
Messages
164
#18
"I apoligise. I do not mean to question the will of our blessed masters."
He adopted a more submissive posture, as beffited the Old bloods honour.
"Ich\'m leider unterbrechen, meine Herren, aber ich glaube, sie sind notwendig irgendwo anders. Nun, ich brauche sie zu berühren Sie Preform den Bann. "

Huakroataxa's neck snapped around. He took a step towards the necromancer, towering over it and gave a deep, warning growl. The creature might not be undead, but Huakroataxa's blade would crush it all the same.

"Old-blood, Do you understand what this warm-blood is saying?" The warrior enquired "There brutish tongue escapes my understanding."
 

Disciple of Nagash

The Perverted One
Staff member
Joined
Feb 12, 2008
Messages
27,916
#21
Seeing the creatures garbling in their own tongue whilst looking at him suspicious Zosz shook his head. Really sometimes things could be so tiresome. Realising they were not going to get anywhere if he waited for their agreement he started to speak the words of a spell, before at the last moment placing his hands on them.

A second later there was a flash of light, and Nexternus was empty once more.
 
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