Discussion Origins.

[Otzi'mandias]

The Arrival.

Zlaqua woke as the Ripperdactyl swerved suddenly. The rider (not being awake), slipped off. This wasnt so bad - his screeeeee as he fell helped to fully wake up Zlaqua. Anyway, the ground was only four or five meters away so he might have survived. Zlaqua carefully shifted in the claws as the Ripper slowed and landed heavily.
The great orange beast nearly crushed him, but by design or fluke, Zlaqua was in the perfect place to just shimmy up the leg a little and avoid the huge black claws.

The Ripperdactyl had landed as it was trained to - to search for the rider. If he lived and wasnt badly injured, he could get back up and ride it again. If he was crippled or dead, the rippers were trained to eat them and rejoin the battle. Zlaqua held no personal grudge against the Rider, but if he found him first, he would make sure that he was dead. Then he would have his very own veteran Ripper, on which he could return to a quiet little corner of Lustria and
-{no. this trade mission is too important. links between all Order races must be achieved or else all will die.i am your conscience and i say you must create an alliance}-
well, I dont think you are my conscience. I think you are Lord Mazdamundi. I think you need to check that I actually obey my punishment, instead of sneaking back to lustria.
-{you could not be more wrong}-
We will see...but on the off chance that you are a certain extremely powerful sorcerer, I shall continue on the mission.

At that point he saw the rider. The poor sod had landed on his head, and there was no chance he could have lived. Zlaqua was relieved - murdering a skink with Lord Mazdamundi watching through his own eyes would make for an awkward conversation. And maybe spiritual punishment as well, although his faith in the old ones was fading by the minute.


After watching the Ripperdactyl devour its former pilot, Zlaqua crouched and moved towards it slowly. Acting on advice from the voice in his head, he lifted his crest as high as he could and thought calm thoughts. It flexed by itself and turned a leafy green. This was supposed to show the Ripperdactyl he wasnt scared. He pulled out of his crouch and walked smoothly towards it, vaulting onto its back. It got up onto its haunches and turned round to look at him.

Zlaqua maintained the you dont scare me at all facade until he felt himself slipping off its back. With a little scream he grabbed at rhe handle, and managed to find a grip. The Ripperdactyl shifted its neck so he dangled above the ground and huffed in contempt. A little shake knocked him off, and the Ripperdactyl loomed above him, radiating hunger.
Zlaqua scrambled backwards, grasping for the spear the original rider had held. He accidentally stuck his hand in the corpse and convulsed with disgust. As the orange beasts head darted forwards, he finally found the tip, and not having time to spin it, swung the hilt of the spear at the hissing face.
With a satisfying klunk the Ripperdactyl lurched backwards. A bright green eye on one side of its head seemed to have gone out. The bellow of pain seemed to drown Zlaquas doubts and fears, leaving only a small, weak skink feeling confident and very awesome. He twirled the spear so the point was forward and lunged...
-{ooh, nicley done. Brave move for a skink, No, no dodge the talons, yes, like that, no, no watch out for the wing.... ouch. You are quite resilient arent you? Yes, slash-stab-duck-stab yes, YES!!... is it dead?}-

To be honest, Lord Mazdamundi, so long as I get left alone, I really don't care. Anyway, wheres the closest village?

As the voice in his head spoke more often, it sounded a bit less like Lord Mazdamundi and more like his older but less mature sibling, Lord Kroak. Zlaqua shook such thoughts from his head - it must be Mazdamundi as why would Kroak care about him?



Far away in Hexoatl, a certain Skink Oracle approached lord Mazdamundi as he sat "contemplating". She knelt before his throne and bowed her head in reverence.
"My Lord, I bring news. Kroak betrays us for this Zlaqua. He has put no effort into any shielding and no longer serves the Congle. He is an extremely powerful loose cannon that needs eliminating-"
" Why does one of Kroaks choosing come and tell me this? Is Oracle not a rank only given to trusted lieutenants of Kroak?"
Y-yes, my Lord, but he goes against our faith. He supports one who would have seen you die. You know what that damn skink did to this city! I would rather drown in Stegadon faeces than have that skink in front of me unrestrained."
"Hmm. I accept your offer of obedience, but on the condition that you treat me with respect! I am the senior here, I deal with important matters."
"My lord, I meant no offence. But how-"
"Did I know you would ask? Slann of the First Spawning are telepaths. They only affect obedient lizardmen, but work up to a range of about 4 light years, we believe. You'd be amazed what a skink would do for the Old Ones..."

 

[Bowser]

Quite enjoyable! A little political intrigue mixed in with the prison break! Inlaughrd at how cocky he got when he smacled that ripper! Good to inject some humour in!

 

[Otzi'mandias]

Ok, guys. I thought you'd appreciate an explanation as to why I might not post a lot in the next 3 or so months - the reason is that GCSEs are fast approaching me, and I have to revise. Zlaqua (sadly) must take a back seat while I polish my exam technique and re-learn stuff I haven't even thought about since year seven. Some stuff might turn up, but since story-writing is so, well, long... no offense, but a good few GCSEs are worth more to me than the fate of this thread. Stay watching this thread, but dont expext much.

 

[Otzi'mandias]

The Arrival pt.2

Zlaqua sat on a rough stone wall on the side of a street thinking. His arrival in the other part of town had gone badly, and he needed to work out why. Worse, Mazdamundi/Kroak/Voice-in-his-head (m/k/v) had gone silent. Zlaqua couldnt rely on it to help him now.

To work out what had gone wrong, he had to quickly revisit what happened. Quite quickly, as it was getting dark and more pitchfork-wielding peasants could spot him at any time.
He had walked out of the fields into the town, and approached a nearby villager.
Still shaking the blood off his hands, he had asked for directions to what m/k/v had called a watchtower.
The peasant had stumbled away and started making this weird quiet ululating noise while holding a gold cross at him.
He had backed onto this ground with small stone monuments poking out of it, and run into this tall building with a pointy roof.
When Zlaqua had followed him into it, his screaming alerted the 60-70 other peasants attending a gathering.
They had picked up their their sharp farming tools and run at him.
Due to his incredible speed, agility and strength (compared to malnourished peasants) he had outrun them, but had got himself lost in the process.
He had found a river and had swum downstream, allowing the cleansing water to clean off the last of the blood...
The blood. That was the reason, they had thought he had killed someone.
The cross would have therefore been a religious symbol - he had been crying out to his gods in help, and the building a temple...Oh. He had interrupted a worship, and with him covered in blood, they had thought him a demon. Ah well. At least he wouldnt do it again by accident.

Now that the mystery had been cleared up, he needed to find a watchtower. He hopped off the wall, picked a random direction and walked.
After about a minute, he found a hooded figure by the side of the street, nearly hidden by shadows. The sun had properly set by now, and the biggest source of light was a tavern on the other side of the street. Zlaqua walked towards the figure.
" I'm sorry, could you direct me to the nearest watchtower because I'm lost...."
The figure turned towards him. He smelt a sudden whiff of dried blood and got a flash of red hair (long, so maybe it was a she?) and pale skin.
All his instincts screamed vampire!
Zlaqua took a quick step back.
"Aww, are you lost, little skinky?"
"uh, you look busy, I'll go and, um, ask someone else,"
He whirled and ran but the vampire was right there in front of him. She grabbed his wrist, so tightly that her nails drew blood. She lifted him up so that her mouth was level with his head and whispered
"The nearest watchtower is down the street on the left hand side. Ask for Darryl to deal with your... immigration issues."
"what?" He squeaked.
" You heard me."
She released him suddenly and he dropped onto his bum.
"You owe me, little skinky."
She laughed as he backpedalled into a wall, and then she just vanished.

Zlaqua clambered to his feet and, careful to keep close to the lanterns that hung from the sides of houses, began to dart towards the watchtower the she-vampire had pointed to. He glanced at his wrist - the blood trickled weakly out of a cut that the vampire had given him (a cut that gave him the shivers when he looked too closely at it, but he wasnt, because the last place you wanted to get distracted was down an unfamiliar dark street with suspicious figures lurking around and at least one vampire hanging around [no pun intended]).

When Zlaqua finally spotted the watchtower (aptly named - it was basically an eight-man castle complete with portcullis, moat and grumpy guardsmen), he wished he had been attacked by something - the tension was awful. Seeing the tower, lit up with torches and standing as a bastion of civilisation, was so awe-inspiring that for a second, he was distracted. It was a second too many. With a hiss of exertion, the Skaven assassin dropped off the roof above and landed with a crump on his shoulders, driving him to his knees. Zlaqua was on his feet in an instant, but the Skaven kept his balance on Zlaquas head and placed a Weeping Blade to his throat. He froze. The Skaven was heavy - his legs were struggling. The Skaven hopped off his shoulders, careful to keep his captive at bladepoint. He drew a sack out of... well, it was probably best not to think about it, and placed it over Zlaqua's head.

Please! Mazdamundi! Kroak! Anyone! Help me!
-{and then I said to her, I said "No Maggie, deal with your own problems", but
-and I wish that my boss would stop leering at me, its like he thinks I am completely
-oh god, why? What kind of teacher would set two hours of homework for a year 5? I'll
- nah I cant see anything down here. Hey, we could hang around bow street, always some mugs near }-
He cut off the link in disgust. He was going to die, and some interference with his personal superwizard had knobbled his only chance for...

A stone rattled above him. What? This hood obscured all vision he had, so craning his neck and fighting his natural hunchbacked stance would achieve nothing.
The Skaven sounded worried.
" its nothing. Keep walking, you'll fetch a great price in Fleshmarket. Everyone whos anyone wants a pet lizardma- oh. Its you."
"Who? Who is this"
Skaven hit the bag.
"Shut up, Slave. Anyway, I know you run a very profitable Fleshmarket yourself, but you cant expect to just muscle in on other businesses- oh. Him."
The Skaven seized his hood and moved the Weeping Blade closer to Zlaqua's throat.
"He is mine! You can't--"
A swishing noise, then gurgling. The blade dropped away from his throat. Strong dexterous hands yanked the hood from his head, but also spun him around.
He turned, but not fast enough. The mystery ally had vanished, leaving only a bewildered skink (why would anyone help him? Least of all someone quite high in the criminal underground)
and a Skaven with his throat torn out. He had also had something rammed into his belly so hard his entrails were splattered behind him.
Done by beastmen perhaps? Or a orruk? Trouble is, neither are smart enough to rise high in the underlying criminal empires that surround almost every civilisation (except the Lizardmen).
Or maybe just a dark elf - from tales Zlaqua had heard that they were stronger than men and Skaven.
Giving thanks to the Old Ones for his survival, he stumbled along the street and into the the watchtower and promptly collapsed.

 

[Bowser]

At least he wouldnt do it again by accident

Next time it will be on purpose! This is great fun! I'm excited for more!

 

[spawning of Bob]

I'm sorry Otzi, I lost track of this thread after the torture. Now I am up to date, I think that "Zlaqua" might be the saurian word for "Lucky"

And not all luck is good.

A succession of sudden Vampires, skaven and the like would usually get an eye roll from me, but this poor guy is so obviously touched by the gods that neither he nor I should be surprised by anything unlikely happening.

 

[Otzi'mandias]

Zlaqua awoke on the floor in a cell.
You there?
-{what happened? The connection got cut off. Must be the proximity of all the Bright Wizards. }-

His claws scrabbled against the sawdust floor as he tried to get up, and slid back down.
-{Dark magic! Zlaqua, your-}-
A piercing pain between his ears blocked out
M/k/v and made Zlaqua groan. A guard walked to the barred entrance.
"Awake then, are we? You are imprisoned for the following offences - section 21a, no Skaven on the street after dark, section 57h, no murder, and section 34f, no cannibalism.
You have the right to food and water, and the
next sentence out your mouth better be some kind of explanation. Or else you can stay in your cell for another week."

Zlaqua tried, he really did, but he couldn't contain himself. He collapsed in laughter. After half a minute, he pulled himself together.
"Are you new? Because, and I can tell you this for certain... skaven are not blue. Nor are they lizards."
-{You also have a royal pardon for these crimes.}-
I do?
-{I'm working on it now.}-
"Oh, I also have a royal pardon for any crimes committed."
The guard smirked.
"Well, wise guy, if it turns out you've lied about that, your sentence is doubled. So whats the keyword?"
-{Chotek.}-
"Chotek"
The guard sagged." Fine, you can leave."
Zlaqua got to his feet and sauntered out his cell. It was strange - as the distance between him and the slann increased, a new personality seemed to emerge.

The guard tapped a rune on the front of his armour. "Skink released," He said.
A voice answered him from out the rune. "Good. Leave him for a week or so, then ask him to come to my Midsomer ball."
Zlaqua gave the guard an odd look, but walked away down the corridor. He didn't look back.

Right Kroak, where to now?
-{A bar. Humans like to relax and de-stress by drinking rotten fruit. You should find a couple of unreligious drunkards there - try and convert them. Theres a Razordon race on from 2 till 5, so don't disturb me.}-

Zlaqua walked through the maze of corridors. He got lost once, but managed to find his way back out into the courtyard without the help of Kroak. The slann had to be Kroak - he had called him by name and he hadn't corrected him.

He had nearly forgotten his mission - to form a religion around the old ones - in all the excitement with the Skaven and the Vampiress.

To be brutally honest, humans didn't deserve to worship the Old Ones. The few humans he had seen had been rude to him just because he was blue. Oh no, fifty of them had mistaken him for a monster. Well. That was insulting all by itself.

If only one of the Old Ones were still around, Zlaqua might have been able to convince them to help, but sadly they were in the Poles, repairing and updating the Gateway. They had to - none of the slann even had the faintest idea how to even communicate with their ancient devices.

He followed the bitter smell of alcohol for a block and found the Ye Olde Tavern. He nearly got mugged once, but by sheer brass neck (baring his teeth and hissing) he escaped. Also, he had no pockets, so where would he hide valuables?

On entering the tavern, he was assaulted with noise and smells. There were men and women everywhere, and all of them seemed to be talking loudly and doing things. After a couple of seconds, it died away and everyone was deliberately not looking at Zlaqua. Everyone except the old bartender, and some huge brown-haired man in a corner with three ladies.
"Awright, son," he drawled in a gravelly voice "What can I getcha? Your folk... they probly don't drink mead or ale. Any fancies?"
Zlaqua shrugged. "What do most people drink?"
The old man beamed a yellow smile.
"You'll be wantin my riverwater special. Rat, or no rat?"
-{Boast.}-
Zlaqua stretched out slowly.
" I'll have rat, on account of the Skaven asshole I killed yesterday. Did you know, over my lifetime, I've killed more'n 80 of those cowardly wretches?"
Three hunchbacked figures sat right at the back, wrapped so heavily in cloths that no flesh was visible, hissed gently.
"A fine choice, my rat-killing friend."
The old man withdrew a grimy cup from under the bar, spat in it, then filled it with some electric yellow liquid. He then excused himself, and ducked through a trapdoor.

Over the sound of thumping in the basement - thumping? - Zlaqua heard a few murmers of respect from among the smaller, less physical humans.
One of the ladies with the brown haired man - a red haired woman - turned around and looked mildly impressed. The man just smirked.

"Hah! Got you!"

The bartender came back up with the glass - inside it was a flattened rat. He gave the glass to Zlaqua with a bow, and extended his hand palm up.
Zlaqua, beginning to recognise human customs, grasped his hand, turned it and shook it, then he stepped away to look for a table.

There was a ripple of laughter, then the brown haired man stood up.
"Put it on my tab," he called "I'll pay."
The old man looked at him and nodded, and he shuffled around the bar and started a conversation with a young man and his partner.

Zlaqua looked again at the brown haired man, who beckoned him over and then sat down. The black haired lady put her head in her hands.

Zlaqua slowly ambled over, and sat down. The brown haired woman was complaining loudly to the man.
"I swear, you just can't stay in a bar without doing something stupid. There was the bar fight in Tumbleweede, the gamble on a snail fight-"
"But," interjected the man,"My snail won us b&b for a week."
"That's not the point!"
The man frowned.
"You know, for someone who attempted to follow their dream, you're being extremely
negative about me following mine. Also, you're talking about my new friend here-" he nodded at Zlaqua, "like he's not here. Thats really very rude. Also, you're a whiner. No offense, but you do find things to complain about everywhere."
"WELL!" She climbed to her feet and stormed out.
The man looked at the black-haired woman.
"What? You want me to after her?"
The man sighed.
"You've looked like you were going to pass out from embarrassment when I paid for-"
He leant across to Zlaqua.
"Whats your name?"
"Zlaqua,"
"- when I paid for Zlaqua's drinks (cool name by the way) and you probably want to leave sharpish, so heres your excuse."
The woman gave him an exasperated look, climbed to her feet and walked out after the other one.
The ginger one laughed.
"Nicely done," she complimented him.
He pretended to bow, and turned to Zlaqua.
"Sorry 'bout that, but nothing could be done. Hi Zlaqua, nice to meet you,"
He shook Zlaquas hand,
"My name is Bralterakus,"

 

[Bowser]

Oh it's starting to come together! Once again the humour was on point!

 

[Otzi'mandias]

@Bowser, recently I've been re-reading the late Terry Pratchett books, so a fair bit of what I've been writing has, I think, a bit of his humour in it. If you haven't read them, then... read them. Its all I can say.

 

[Bowser]

I keep meaning to, I have read "Good Omens" 3 times, but haven't gotten into the rest as of yet.

 

[Otzi'mandias]

Try Small Gods. Its my absolute favourite, once you get into it, well, it's funnier than Spawning of bob. And as witty. And as relevant.

 

[spawning of Bob]

Possible near compliment acknowledged, and read "Night Watch" - it is a very good mystery, police procedural and political thriller, the Pratchett absurdity is there, but it doesn't obscure some excellent characters and a ripper of a plot. It also sets up some somewhat important future players and organisations.

Back to "Origins", I'm loving this pre-the-coming of Chaos setting. All the rules of society are different - having a working community of different species makes for many shades of grey instead of the usual WHFB black and white. I like the hints of Ye Olde Technology, and you have dealt with the Old One problem very nicely (gods walking among us tend to dominate a plot)

 

[Otzi'mandias]

Far away in the north, an Old One talks to its kin as it pulled wires out of a panel.
THIS IS EASY WORK. It paused to plug in an orange wire. A SLANN COULD DO IT, it stops and chuckles, WELL, THEY COULD MAKE A SKINK DO IT.
One of its siblings responded STOP IT! I DIDN'T MEAN FOR THAT TO HAPPEN! ITS NOT MY FAULT THAT THEY LOOK LIKE SLUGS!
ANYWAY, ITS NOT ME WHO VOLUNTEERED FOR THE JOB. YOU DESERVE THAT BOREDOM.
The Old One sends a mental shrug to its compatriot and turns to leave, but something skitters across the floor behind it.
Hey guys, someth-
Wait. Something is blocking me. And it's coming from - its head sweeps across the room - inside that vent.
Having never been scared or hurt in its life comes to its disadvantage now as it bends space to speed across the room with a single step and lands next to the vent. It causes the vent to unscrew itself, and sticks its head in hole.

A burning sword impales the head, and with a swipe it gets torn off completely. As the blind body stumbles around, a red-armoured hand stickes out of the darkness, flicking around in a complicated pattern, culminating in flipping the headless Old One the bird.

The body wasn't killed by the sword, but the gestures and the sorcery that those gestures used did kill it.
Then, for good measure, Khorne split the body into its atoms and spread them across the universe. Then as he climbs out of the cramped ventilation duct, all five tons of blood god and 12 tons of armour dent the floor as he walks.
He smiles - this is how it should be. Dramatic and violent at the same time. The only way IT WOULD BE BETTER IS IF A STORM WAS HAPPENING OUTSIDE.
Khorne waits.
DAMMIT TZEENTCH, I SAID STORM!
Khorne waits.
OH FINE, I'LL DO IT MYSELF!
Storm clouds form in seconds, and they rains. Thunder booms, and the lightening flashes, and Khorne clumps towards his next target.

 

[Bowser]

Well that will teach those over confident Old Ones! This is fantastic.

 

[Otzi'mandias]

Strange thing is, as I was proofreading it out loud, a storm started, and occasionally I could hear little sniffles from my warhammer shelf...

 

[Otzi'mandias]

Zlaqua stood up from the table.
"Well, it was a great conversation, but I must be going."
Bralterakus looked up at him.
"Wait, your species come from Lustria, don't they? How did you get here?"
Zlaqua smiled, he was quite tipsy.
"Well, it wasn't by choice. I got forced out, after... It's a long story. Have you got the time?"
"Yeah, its about 3," interjected Emily.
Zlaqua and Bralterakus both had to struggle to contain themselves, and barely managed to.
"We need to leave at about half-four. Is that long enough?"
Zlaqua shrugged.
"Maybe. You see, I was an ordinary worker/artisan skink, until my mate Neu'dels
got wind of an incoming Skaven attack on one of our spawning pools. He stopped it almost single-handedly (apart from the salamanders he used) and was branded a hero. He also got put in charge of creature transport and caging as a 'reward' for his heroism. He was happy with his new job, until the constant need for reports
brought him under. He needed a friend to deal with his daily job while he caught up on paperwork. I volunteered. And when I started, you see, I didn't pay enough attention. The control room had a ton of magical symbols on the desk, and the 'master-release' sigil was next to the 'open-gate' sigil. So when Lord Mazdamundi
turned up for a surprise inspection, I hit the 'master-release' sigil then the 'open gate' sigil. You've fought us before, yes?"
"Yeah, once or twice," Bralterakus nodded.
"So you've seen our Carnosaurs and Stegadons?"
Bralterakus nodded again.
"I think that we had about twenty of each in the cages, and we had maybe sixty salamanders and razordons total. Now that each were free, there was utter chaos."

Nobody noticed the small tadpole with legs that appeared mid air behind Zlaqua and fell with a squeak onto the floor.

"So when the doors opened, everything ran at Lord Mazdamundi. Including a creature that we like to call the Dread Saurian, rare and deadly to both Carnosaurs and Stegadons. Lord Mazdamundi managed to cage most of the animals in seconds - Slann are scary good at magic, but the Dread Saurian, the fiercely intelligent killing machine that it is, took offence at the attempt to levitate it and attacked Lord Mazdamundi. He was flung out of his palanquin and with his last energy turned the Dread Saurian to rubber. It nearly killed him, and Neu'dels got the blame. Slann can read minds easily, so they found me fast. It was believed that I was told to release them in an attempt to kill Mazdamundi, and the culprits had installed mental barriers on me.
Having proved my untrustworthy nature, and ability to decieve, it was agreed - probably, I dont know, I wasn't there - that I would be best suited to dealing with outside politics. I was tortured for a while, then sent out of Lustria on a Ripperdactyl, which...."

-{fascinating. So that's why you got banished.}-
Didn't you get told? And aren't you meant to be watching a race?
-{Umm... Go on Spikey! You can do it! }-

“... and a vampire grabbed me and scared me a few streets away. Then I was paranoid for a bit, and a skaven tried to kidnap me, and then..."

Why do we even obey Slann? All they seem to do is try to control us. Even the religion they forced on us is designed to trap us in a social niche. We're no better off than Kroxigor, in fact we're worse off, as Kroxigor can't see the mental shackles that the Slann put us in. And I'm meant to force this 'religion' on humans? Stuff that.

"...and that's how I got here."

Emily looked slightly in awe.
"Thats a hell of a story. You ever think about writing an autobiography?"
"Its not bad at all," Bralterakus agreed, "I'd read it."
Zlaqua's crest turned an embarrassed pinky-red.
Hopefully they weren't smart enough to-

"But why are you still obeying them? I mean, you got exiled for an accident, and they refused to believe you. Why not run off and start your own thing on the other side of the planet?"

Zlaqua felt the blood leech out of his crest.
"Uh, one of them has taken up residence in my head."

An awkward silence followed.

Emily was going red. She clenched her teeth and spoke in a quiet tone of pure authority.

"Slann, you will not reveal any of the things you learn through your perverted grasp on Zlaquas mind unless Zlaqua gives you express permission beforehand to a specific piece of memory or knowledge. You will deny all knowledge of any such information until such time as Zlaqua grants you permission to acknowledge it."

Zlaqua felt his mouth open in response.
Yes my lady.
Emily wrinkled her forehead in effort.
"You will also not take over any of his bodily functions without his permission and him having set a.. specific.. timeframe..."

Zlaqua watched in shock as she slowly keeled forward into her meal, Bralterakus catching her shoulders at the last minute.
"Kingspeech," he explained, "or in this case Queenspeech. A talent that the King or Queen of Brettonia gain on their succession to the throne. Emily here is the oldest heir, and so the gift passes to her."

He hefted her up over his shoulder.
"I need to drop her off at her room, and I have Fleshmarket business to take care of, so..."
Zlaqua looked at him blankly.
"Of course. You wouldnt know what that is, would you? Fleshmarket. Market of Flesh.
Damn, you have no concept of crime do you?
The Fleshmarket is a place (one of many, but by far the most successful) where prostitutes trade and sell themselves, slaves get bought, stolen organs get sold, etc.
I have stakes in the mercenary business, and before setting off for Lustri- that is, some far-off land, I need to secure bodyguards for the ladies. I promised."
Bralterakus stood and began towards the exit.
Zlaqua followed slowly. "I think I understand. But, what is a prostitute?"

Bralterakus grinned awkwardly, and looked back at him as they left the pub and crossed the street.
"Well, when a man and a woman really love each other..."

 

[Bowser]

Too bad lizardmen don't have genitalia, makes the talk anout prostitutes that much more awkward!
So that's how it happened! Hilarious!

 

[Otzi'mandias]

Zlaqua paused as Bralterakus kicked open the door.
"Are you sure she won't mind?"
Bralterakus shrugged, and tossed Emily on the bed.
"Queen Emily here has a short temper. She'll be annoyed, sure, but we'll be far away by then. Also, no-one goes into the Fleshmarket alone, and without her sisters - damn. Her sisters. Emma! Aletea! You in here?"
Bralterakus spat on the floor.
Zlaqua shuffled backwards nervously.
"Zlaqua, would you mind coming with me? I need to buy back our missing heirs. To do this, I need to go into Fleshmarket, and like I said, no-one goes alone."
Zlaqua nodded slowly.
Bralterakus frowned.
"You're very quiet. Are you ok?"
Zlaqua shivered.
"I'm still trying to understand your method of reproduction. It just seems so... inelegant and messy."
Bralterakus laughed, spun around and slung an arm over Zlaqua's shoulders as they began to navigate their way out of the second-class bed&breakfast.
"Well, how do you reproduce then? I assume it's very different."
Zlaqua shrugged.
"We don't actually interact to breed, you see. New hatchling skinks and kroxigor kind of swim out of these pools of bright blue liquid."
Bralterakus looked suspiciously at Zlaqua, searching his face for insincerity. Finding none, he cackled once and then slapped a hand over his mouth.
"Really? Genuinely, weird magic pools that spit out lizards?"
Zlaqua nodded, and tugged on Bralterakus' arm to stop him walking into the path of a carriage.
After an epic struggle, Bralterakus banished the smirk from his face.
"Ok. The Fleshmarket is just down this allet to the left..."

After all Zlaqua had heard about the titanic Fleshmarket, he had expected some form of subtlety. But no, huge carnival tents were up with pictures of unclothed humans on them. There were long lines of chained slaves stood behind wooden stalls. There was even a large, off-white tent with a red cross design on it.
Zlaqua poked Bralterakus.
"Whats that?"
Bralterakus looked at the tent and shuddered. "Organ transplants, organ marketing. Stuff like that. Now, wheres a red-green striped tent? Thats where they'll be."
Zlaqua tried to spot it, he really did, but it was only when some fat man barged past him and knocked him into a tent when he realised that it had been right in front of him.
Bralterakus followed him in.
Stood round a table were a man and a woman. The woman was in an awful red-and-green striped dress, and from the way the man was standing, she was dictating the terms to him.
In the corner were a collection of manacled girls and boys. Emma and Aletea weren't among them, unless they were right at the back.
The woman glanced over at Zlaqua and her face lit up.
"Excuse me a second," she interrupted the man. She stalked over to Zlaqua, and put a hand on his head.
"Aww, liddle skink, do you need someone to look after you? Leave that to m-"
Bralterakus kicked her in the belly, forcing all the air out of her with a whoop. She stumbled backwards into the man, and both tumbled down.
"Slavers get no mercy. Can you fight?
"Yes,"
"Good,"
Bralterakus leapt forward and smashed his elbow down onto the mans temple. He folded. The woman rolled out of the way and caught him into a headlock. Bralterakus rose to his feet and fell onto his back. The woman tried to let go but she was too late.
Bralterakus looked at Zlaqua.
"Well? Free them!"
Until then he had stood there in a kind of daze, but he lunged for the keys in the mud. The man tried for them as well, but Zlaqua was faster than any normal human. Bralterakus was winded by a lucky punch from the woman and dropped to his knees, disorientated. Zlaqua flipped him the keys, and as Bralterakus rose labouriously to his feet, he tucked a key inbetween his knuckles and punched the man in the belly. There was a tearing noise and the man howled in pain.
Zlaqua dived inbetween the woman and Bralterakus, fending off a couple of blows.
Bralterakus was still struggling to breathe. He was in no condition to fight
"Bralterakus, take the girls! I've got these!"

When Bralterakus was all about brutal damage and strength, Zlaqua was a speedy fighter. He employed kicks, and open-hand slashes to full effect. The slaves were almost free...
The woman stumbled out of range of a swipe and shrieked "Rape! Help me!"
Nothing happened.
The woman screamed "Thief! Stealing my life savings! Help me for money!"
Outside the tent, several swords were suddenly noisily unsheathed.

 

[Bowser]

Slavers, they never play fair! Cool action! Very exciting!

 

[Otzi'mandias]

The woman pulled a small bag of gold coins out of her pocket and lobbed it at Zlaqua. It was caught deftly - the woman mouth opened in a small o of surprise - and Zlaqua threw it out the entrance. The swords were quickly sheathed and the people began to scrabble in the mud for the money.

The woman looked hopefully at Bralterakus.
"What if I gave you the slaves, free of charge? Would I walk out of here?"
"No," Bralterakus growled.
The woman nodded sadly.
"In that case..."
She let out a piercing whistle. A nearby roar answered it, and a Rat Ogre tore apart a side of the tent and stepped inside. A Moulder followed it.
"Moulder, your profit margins are at risk. Kill them both."


Bralterakus gave the woman a hopeful smile.
"Y'know Zlaqua, I think we may have been a bit hasty in our decision..."
"Kill the man, and the skink," she snarled.

The simple Rat Ogre looked from Bralterakus to Zlaqua, and back, unsure as to who to kill first.
"Moulder, send your beast forth!"
Bralterakus dropped to his knees in the churned up mud.
"Please let us live!" he cried
Zlaqua saw his hand wrap around something.
"Never, you brute! You shall not-"
The sharp flint caught her in the eye. With a wet pop and a scream that made the Rat Ogre jump, she collapsed into the mud.

Bralterakus hopped back up to his feet.
"Zlaqua, you go high, I'll go low!"
He made a gesture like boosting someone's foot up and tapped his eye.
"Go!"
The Rat Ogre lumbered forwards towards Bralterakus, apparently ignoring Zlaqua as a potential threat.
Zlaqua darted towards Bralterakus, sliding under the huge arm that the Rat Ogre swung towards him. He stuck a foot out, which Bralterakus grabbed and tossed him at the Rat Ogres face. Twisting to dodge the snapping jaws, he grabbed the blood-soaked bandages covering the Ogres left eye, and he tore it off.

The mangled flesh below was apparently very tender. At least, when Zlaqua drove both hands deep into it, the Rat Ogre screamed like a little girl and swung a huge armoured hand up to knock Zlaqua off.
Zlaqua was clipped by one of the spikes, and did fall off, but he -


* * * * *


Bralterakus lifted Zlaqua and threw him at the brutes face.
Go, Zlaqua. Tear off the bandag-
The Ogre swung a hand around at Bralterakus - he ducked under it and as the Rat Ogre moved to try and impale Zlaqua on a spike jutting out from his wrist, he grabbed the huge arm and held it still.
His muscles screamed as he grunted, holding back the arm almost solely by rage.
Damn, these beasts were strong.
With a roar of warning, Bralterakus released the arm.
It was fine, the dumb creature had tried to smack Zlaqua with his other hand, and had pulverised its own brain with the blow. Through some luck, the giant Abomination was still standing, but it could fall at any moment.

A jingling noise caught Bralterakus' attention. The last of the girls were free, and most paused to thank him as they left.
"Stay as a group," wheezed Bralterakus as they passed him,"Or, you'll get, whew, recaptured."
The behemoth was listing now, and as Bralterakus stumbled forward to move Zlaqua, who was unconscious. Also, his right arm looked broken.
Bralterakus picked Zlaqua up, and stumbled out the ruins of the tent. The Rat Ogre collapsed behind him.

The crowd that had formed to watch parted fearfully in front of the man who had fought a Rat Ogre and won, and so he managed to leave the Fleshmarket relatively unscathed.

Bralterakus stumbled into Emilys room, dropped Zlaqua on the bed, and dropped to his knees, then tumbled forwards and passed out on the floor.