Fiction The Beginning

Nice pieces! Keep it up!

Fhanados said:

Thanks Scalenex! That's high praise coming from such a prolific fluff writer as yourself

I'm a bit at a crossroads at the moment as to whether to go down the "100 years earlier" or the "present day" path. It really depends if the continent of Lustria still physically exists (albeit in a devastated state) or whether it ordered the Ulthuan special with an extra large seawater. I've only read Nagash so far and spoiled the rest of End Times for myself by reading forums and listening to podcasts, neither of which really give the complete picture.

I'm hoping for "Destroyed but still here". I have some cool post-apocalypse visions of Lustria floating around my noggin which could mesh in with my original story with a bit of wordsmithery.

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I've enjoyed what you've written so far! As Scalenex said, if you find the End Times getting in the way of your plot then just do your own.

Now that Thanquol and Archaon have been released, will you be continuing?

Very good fluff, just two things:

-"WARM blood"? No no no

-ritual fights between saurus heroes shouldn't be deadly according to the official fluff, but i have to say this way that's way more epic, so keep it

Rettile said:

"WARM blood"? No no no

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I'm guessing you mean the passage:

Bone cracked, flesh tore, and warm blood spattered the ground.

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That's an interesting point, but seeing as lizards body temperatures reflect their surroundings you could make an argument for it being warm xp

I can't quite get quoting right, but replying to Slanuptin/Scalenex:

My logic with the warm blood for lizardmen is that despite being ectothermic, reptiles don't tend to actually have cold blood. Komodo Dragons and Lace Monitors for example can regulate their body temperature to be around 35°C, which is only a few degrees less than a healthy adult human which is around 37°C. Of course this fluctuates during their non-active times but unless the poor lizard is on the verge of freezing to death their blood would still be warm to the touch.

Gor-Rok has survived some pretty nasty things. Who's to say he's dead for good?

I've only read End Times: Nagash so until I catch up at least to Thanquol I don't really know what I'll decide on. I at least have a few paths I can follow with some characters (one will need to wait until I find out what those crazy elves are up to!) so I'm definitely going to keep working on this.

How have I not caught up until now?

This continues to be a fantastic read.

And if GW lets you down and you need to go your own way, you could have:

Part Three. The End Times of the Beginning.

If you end up feeling rewritey, the star chamber war council confused me. There was plenty of mention of a "dark saurus", but Zpakatax' name didn't get mentioned until after the party broke up. Was that him? If so he should have been in the roll call at the beginning of, you know, the Beginning of the war council.

May the Old Ones grant you more slow days at work.

Thanks for the praise Bob!

You are correct - the dark saurus is Zpakatax. I'll make a few tweaks so that's a bit clearer, but was there anything else about the war council that didn't make sense? I must admit I rushed that one a bit.

EDIT: While listening to podcasts I've gleaned a basic understanding of the events that happen in Khaine (and also had the end of Archaeon spoiled, but that's my own dumb fault!), but more importantly I've got inspiration of how I can continue my storyline without ignoring current End Times events Hoping for a few quiet days - my mojo is flowing and I don't want it to leak!

Just a short(ish) one this time. I'm swimming with ideas for the Szeratops plot arc, and a bit further on with Zpakatax I've got a plan but I hit a bit of a roadblock in the "present".

Subjugated
The subjugation of the Border Princes was going well. Although the Lizardmen forces were yet to besiege Fester Spike they had encountered less and less Skaven in the area, and had even managed to purge several prominent burrows. With the help of arcane instruments the Lizardmen were able to trigger a chain of minor earthquakes, collapsing the flimsy Skaven tunnels. Resident Dwarves were not impressed, and a number of small skirmishes had taken place before the Lizardmen simply started avoiding the small humanoids. Their fight was not with the Munditecah.

The area surrounding the portal to Lustria had become a simple but stable fortress. It lacked the usual adornment of Lustrian Temple Cities, but a few small and simple pyramids were constructed to venerate the Old Ones, and thick stone walls manned by Saurus surrounded the cleared land. Surrounding the newly erected bastion were wide spaces woodland that had been cleared for lumber and several impromptu quarries. The stone here was not as dense as the stone hewn from the mountain ranges of home, but the soil was shallow and rock was plentiful.

Stables were problematic however, and a number of warbeasts of varying size had escaped into the wilderness. There were rumours of sabotage by the Aberrations in the region, but in truth for the most part it was due to the inadequacies of the infrastructure. That, and a few choice predators which had been released by the general for sport.

Nethertheless, the new settlement of Munditlazan was a thriving hub of Lizardman activity in the Old World.

With the Skaven seemingly under control and the surrounding woodlands purged of Beastmen Zpakatax Darkscale had begun contemplation of the conquest over the Badlands. It was a vast area to be sure, and housed one of the greatest populations of Greenskins on the planet. He had no illusion that he could win with the forces at his disposal. Even if the entirety of Lustria marched at his heels he doubted they would have the numerical advantage, and with the unnatural constitution of Orcs even if they did outnumber their foes it would still be a hard earned victory and likely leave the armies of the Old Ones crippled for some time.

Short of the intervention of the Gods themselves direct combat with the Orcs was doomed to fail. Fortunately Saurus are long lived, and this new outpost gave the forces of Mazdamundi the prefect launching point for an ongoing campaign to destabilise the greenskin hordes. Even now as they consolidated their territories parties of Skinks and Chameleon Skinks had been dispatched to harass supply lines, assassinate key Orc leaders and generally wreak havoc undetected. So far only smaller clans had been targeted but it was proving effective.

Things looked positive, but the slow pace of it all was grating. Unlike most Saurus warriors the general was not blessed by the Old Ones with the virtue of patience. Until now the purge of surrounding lands and the skirmishes with Dwarven forces had kept him occupied. Now he was stuck behind these flimsy stone walls surveying the construction of barrios and finetuning hit and run offensives for an ongoing campaign of stealth and subterfuge. His predatory urges were being held in check by duty and duty alone.

Blaring horns and beating wardrums blasted away the stifling air of responsibility. The patrol had returned, and with them would be tales of blood and glory that he so desperately craved to be a part of. For a moment the burden of governance would be put aside.

“They report to me,” Zpakatax snarled at the nearby Skink scribe.

“Honoured General, it is my duty to detail the findings of our host…”

This defiance pushed the bubbling rage within Zpakatax to the surface.

“They. Report. To. ME!” his roar sent the scribe skittering back in fear and a tense silence fell upon the room.

He glanced around the chamber. All eyes were on him, and not all were friendly. The Saurus warriors, impassive as always, looked prepared to take an order at any second. But from who? The Skink Chiefs from Hexoatl held a high rank, and the High Priest acted as the Slann’s representative and had the authority to overrule anyone here. Zpakatax was the highest ranking Saurus on the continent, but he was under no illusion that he was above any other castes.

No. This was foolish. It was nothing more than a juvenile outburst to vent his frustration at having the glory of battle taken from him. He was one chosen by Quetzl, The Protector. There was more to this than bloodshed.

“You will accompany me,” he regained his composure. “You shall record what they say. You are now my personal glyph keeper. Come.”

He did not even wait for the Skink to respond before striding out of the room. As the scribe quickly snatched up his belongings and scampered out behind the dark scaled Saurus warrior nervous chatter replaced the awkward quiet, and what the little skink heard was nothing good.


What I'm aiming for here is to build up some tension within the new settlement on the Border Princes. Basically the Lizardmen are trouncing everything and feeling pretty good about themselves, but tje Badlands themselves seem impossible to conquer and Zpakatax is getting antsy being away from the fight. He's been given the role of a military adviser rather than a warrior and he doesn't like it and over time it really gets on his nerves and causes a few problems. Eventually some big fighting happens (because Warhammer) and once we hit that point I'm set, but I'm having a lot of trouble with the buildup.

I feel I haven't done as good a job portraying what's going on in my head at this point (thus the little explaination above), so any comments and criticism about this part are much appreciated.

There is so much goodness here that we will forgive a rewrite or two, or leaving a bookmark post or two for a chapter to be written in later. Keep going forwards and you will probably discover things as you go that needed a bit of setting up in earlier sections.

As for your little explanation above it was good because you started a conversation, but it was actually unnecessary. You got across everything you wanted to express with just with the story. And if you ever write something that seems ambiguous, just have two other characters TALK about those events later on. eg.

"Hmmm. Darkscale overreached by attacking the ogres."
"It is no surprise. He feels lost if he isn't killing."
"Why do you think that is?"
"Because he is Scalenex."

I know a lot of people have put on a black armband to mourn the passing of 8th edition, but I've put on my happy hat for Age of Sigmar and it's got my juices flowing again! I have a clear(er) picture in my mind now of how to integrate End Times into my story, and I actually have a plan for the fate of some of my main characters! I am really excited to bring my story forward and hopefully by the time it reaches the Age of Sigmar timeline I'll actually have painted miniatures to play with.

I hope you continue to read (and hopefully enjoy) the tale of Aki-Pterixx, Szeratops and Zpakatax Darkscale.

A New Path
The twin volcanic isles of the Fuming Serpent and Spitting Serpent cut an impressive silhouette on the horizon. Unbroken, crystal blue water stretched as far as the eye could see either side of the tropical islands and a pristine blue midday sky hung unmarred by clouds above. Biqicuatectzin tried his best to contain his excitement, but couldn’t help but notice his colleague’s sideways glances. It didn’t matter. The glorious majesty of these sacred isles was what was important to him. It was what made the months-long trek through the wilderness of Lustria and the horrors he saw in the battle against the Amazons worthwhile.

The wooden deck suddenly fell away below him as the giant marine reptile dipped with the rolling sea. The ever-stoic Saurus warriors crouched as one, clawed feet never leaving the howdah deck while the nimble skinks quickly scrabbled to regain their footing. Biqicuatectzin, having lived the soft and scamper-free life of a Temple priest was not so agile and struggled to maintain his composure and his dignity. If the Saurus noticed, they didn’t care but a few skinks squawked in amusement and chattered among themselves. One colleague from the Temple flashed a good-natured grin along with a friendly head bob to reassure him that they were not mocking, merely jesting at his misfortune.

The little priest relaxed slightly at the sight of beastmasters crawling over the great sea-beast’s head shouting commands, praises and blessings in equal measure. It all seemed odd to him, but those blessed by Itzl knew best when it came to the great cold-blooded creatures of Lustria and beyond. He was confident their rituals would sway the beast and persuade it not to plummet back into the watery depths, condemning them all to a horrible doom. Still, if it was what the Old Ones wished then it would be so. No point worrying about it. And surely with the Son of Tepok aboard they were safe. Aki-Pterixx knew his own destiny, and Biqicuatectzin was certain that if it was to drown on the back of a stubborn sea creature then he would have warned them to stay ashore.

The isles gradually grew bigger and more majestic as the beast-ships approached, and after what seemed like an age of peaceful stillness they had reached their destination. The great marine reptiles that had carried them were far too big to come ashore; they risked beaching their titanic bodies on the jagged reefs and shifting sandbars. The Host of Aki-Pterixx would have to make their own way onto dry land.

For the Skinks this was not a problem, they were all too eager to be away from the dangers of the open ocean. Fearing that the mighty sea beasts may develop a sudden taste for land dwellers they leapt into the water with nary a second thought and began the short swim to the shoreline. The big oafish Kroxigor were hesitant at first, but with some gentle coaxing from their spawn kin they joined their smaller brethren in the water.

Several higher ranking skinks soared overhead – joining the hosts of Terradon and Ripperdactyl riders that made the journey on warm Lustrian winds. Some took to the air using enchanted feathered cloaks, others doubling with Terradon riders. Biqi even swore that he saw one priest in cloth robes with unusual head ornaments fly past sitting upon an exotic carpet.

The Saurus were slightly more problematic. Some possessed aquatic traits and were comfortable in the water, but most were not so fortunate. As the leaders of the host chattered away devising a plan to mobilise the heavy set warriors their preparations regarding the larger warbeasts fell into disarray.

The bigger creatures were being floated ashore on detachable sections of the deck. Various methods of engineering, clever sorcery and the strength of obedient Kroxigor were being used to pull the rafts towards the nearby island. Carnosaurs and Stegadons were firmly lashed down and caged, if either of these powerful beasts could gain momentum they would surely break free. Even with the influence of the beastmasters and shamans the strong willed monsters had to be treated delicately. They were sacred beasts and the loss of any to the deeps would be a tragedy. Not to mention the chaos that a panicked Carnosaur could cause if loose.

Several dim-witted Bastilodons simply sat still while blindfolded, hunched down in their instinctive defensive position. While crouched like this they were easy to manage and were bound to the deck by some simple netting cast over their armoured hide. In the hustle and bustle of the operation one of the great creatures was startled, instinctively slamming its heavy clubbed tail into the howdah, splintering the wooden deck. Beastmasters and shamans struggled to keep their sea creature calm while the remaining skinks scurried around to quickly set the other Bastilodons adrift. The titanic creature that bore them so far began to thrash, crashing sidelong into another living ship with a hideous crack.

It had only taken a few moments for the best laid plans to fall into anarchy. Dozens of rafts were hastily being cast away from the sea beasts despite there being not enough Kroxigor to tow them. On the ship next to Biqicuatectzin’s a Troglodon leapt overboard, closely followed by its Oracle. Further down the line a bunch of skink handlers desperately hurled nets overboard in a fruitless attempt to capture a trio of Salamanders that were paddling in playful circles like some kind of cheerful companion beast.

The little priest braved a glance at Aki-Pterixx and was surprised to see his master unphased by this turn of events. It shouldn’t have surprised him really, it was how the Son of Tepok had been the whole journey. The Saurus general hadn’t even bothered to reply to the countless questions by various other leaders about the incident with the Amazons – it was like their concerns were just not worth answering. This attitude was entirely offputting. If it was so disturbing even to other Children of the Old Ones, then it would be doubly so for any outsiders.

This was what gave Biqicuatectzin purpose. He was to be an ambassador of the Host of Chotec. He was to speak on behalf of Aki-Pterixx when the feathered Saurus decided not to talk. He was also the one to mend diplomatic relations when the Son of Tepok inevitably caused some kind of irrevocable insult to the younger races, and try to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. He thought it would be fairly straightforward – all the young races needed to do was go back to where the Old Ones put them. It’s not so big a thing to ask. If someone told him that the Old Ones wanted him in the frozen wastes of the North he would go happily, so surely the other peoples of the world would do so as well? They just needed the right person to tell them.

His thoughtfulness was interrupted by the pull of magic at the back of his mind. Turning, he saw that the other priests had formed a solution regarding the Saurus dilemma while the beast caste got things under control. The combined might of the priesthood’s powers began to form a bridge of ice towards the island, smaller bridges branching out towards the ships and a larger arterial bridge leading to land. It was quite a feat, Biqi thought as he joined in. It was very reminiscent of the roots of a tree, or the structure of blood vessels. He preferred the tree analogy.

Soon enough the bridge reached shallow waters and the warriors that marched across were able to make the rest of the journey unassisted. Even a few Razordons and pack beasts made their way across the ice.

As the host reassembled on the beach Biqicuatectzin got the chance to really appreciate the enormity of their force. By his count over five thousand Saurus warriors of varying pedigree formed the core of their army. Accompanying them were almost twice as many Skinks forming groups of skirmishing scouts and auxiliary cohorts. Close to three hundred Kroxigor were brought along, perhaps a little over half of them distributed among their spawn-kin Skinks. In a warrior role it would be better for the brutes to act together in larger groups, but Kroxigor were simple creatures with peculiar temperaments.

The army was impressive, but their menagerie was second to none. One hundred Cold Ones were being tended to by their Saurus riders were kept in check by five Carnosaurs. Off to the side a herd of twenty Stegadons grazed alongside the six or so Bastilodons. A few small packs of Razordons and Salamanders were interspersed throughout the group, some penned in makeshift cages after the escapades of earlier today. Most impressively for Biqicuatectzin was the sole Troglodon that had accompanied them. Less ferocious than the Carnosaurs but no less glorious, this sacred creature was so revered that Skinks from all around the war camp had formed a queue to lay down offerings of food and totems.

The only thing that couldn’t be seen were the Terradons and Ripperdactyls. The aerial forces of Hexoatl had made it to land well before the rest of the host and had taken up residence in the extensive cave systems carved into the mountain as roosts for such an occasion. The islands themselves had no resident flying beasts but they were well prepared to receive such travellers, especially given how rare it was to cross to the isles by sea.

Without a word Aki-Pterixx and his Temple Guard cohort strode up the beach and into the island’s tropical jungle. Biqicuatectzin ran to catch up with the group before they vanished beneath the broad palm fronds and lush undergrowth. Somehow the Saurus eluded him. It still surprised him how such bulky heavyset warriors managed to move undetected through the forests of Lustria – creatures of similar size and strength, such as barbaric Orcs, tended to be rather unsubtle. Now, the natural ability of the predatory fighters had left him lost in some foreign land with unknown carnivorous creatures surely lurking beyond his sight.

With a sigh he skittered deeper into the dense vegetation. This day was getting worse by the minute.

I'm so glad you picked up the threads again - although it was long enough that I needed to remind myself of what had passed before.

You mentioned inspiration from the AoS future, and as I read I think I got a glimpse of how you are planning to get there. If it turns out I am right, I will definitely say, "saw that coming."

Thanks for the feedback Bob! I've actually re-written this piece a few times. First time my computer decided to crash and didn't save it. Second time I was at work and forgot to save it before I went home for the weekend, so of course there's network maintenance and out computers are taken offline. Boom, lost again. This is the third iteration, and I kinda lost steam and got a bit sloppy.

You're 100% right about Biqi. I found it very difficult to write from Aki-Pterixx's perspective on account of his alien nature and I don't want too many "saurus-sues" with human personalities. Aki is supposed to be the epitomy of the Saurus - single minded, born knowing all that he needs to instinctively, cares nothing for anything outside his purpose. It's just that his purpose is a little bit different than most.

Also I just realised that I gave both Aki and Zpakatax skink attendants! It's all good though, I have an idea on how to keep them different enough for it to not be a big deal.

EDIT: Updated the previous post. Hopefully it's a bit easier to read now!
Anyway next part is in progress so hopefully I have it up today!

Next part is done - kinda. It was starting to get pretty big and has a long way to go so I decided to split it in two so one arc isn't hogging the spotlight.

The Northern Incursion
It had been nearly a full cycle of the true-moon since the conflict with the Stormhost had ended and not much progress had been made. The paths leading to the mountain had been widened and reinforced, and labour teams of Skinks and Kroxigor had been working nonstop to excavate the mountainside to reveal the gateway. Even those Saurus who were capable were working the stone while their more single minded bretheren stood guard. Stegadons and Bastilodons hauled away huge amounts of stone, which were subsequently worked by Skink masons and used by the architects to fortify the Blood Pyramid and turn the narrow mountain paths into busy highways bustling with workers going back and forth between the worksite and the Pyramid.

Szeratops had spent most of this time recovering from his horrific injuries. The duel had badly crippled him, he had not yet worn armour or carried a weapon since his victory over Gor-Rok. Even with the ministrations of Skink Priests and mundane healers his wounds healed slowly. Although he could now walk without risk of worsening his condition he was still constantly in pain and it would be some time yet before he could fight again, and this would pose a problem.

Unadorned save for daubs of warpaint that marked him for his rank, the Eternity Warden made the slow journey from the Blood Pyramid to the mountain worksite on foot. A retinue of Temple Guard flanked him as he marched and gaggles of skinks of various standing scuttled to and fro seeking the General’s advice and orders, or reporting on their tasks. The mountain road was now truly a spectacular thing that could one day be a major passageway into the northern lands of Naggaroth. Armies of Lustria would be able to march on the Dark Elves and force them back into their place.

It was odd that they had not seen more of the wayward Elves. Even this far south there tended to be feral tribes and secretive cults hidden away in the mountains, but their scouts had reported nothing. Small settlements and outposts were spotted but all were seemingly abandoned. The Priests had told him of a growing Storm of Magic far to the north and believed the Dark Ones had left to claim its power for themselves. Szeratops was not so sure. The Blackspine Mountains were a vast and dangerous place, even for Elves, and to leave the relative safety of their remote dwellings on a whim for such a fleeting chance of power did not seem right. He had fought the Dark Elves often enough to know the extent of their greed and lust for power, but above all they valued themselves.

Patrols had been doubled to ease his mind and his focus turned again to their excavation. It was a monumental task. The mountainside had been changed from the jagged black stone that the range was known for to a great angular arch burrowing into the mountain. Huge dark stone support pylons had been erected in their wake as the workers tunnelled ever deeper, resulting in an almost Dwarven architecture. Priests and overseers assured him that they had to be close now, and seeing this place with his own eyes for the first time made him inclined to believe them.

Less than three days after his arrival the first sign of the gateway was found – a speck of gleaming white stone in a mountain of inky black. The labour teams frantically worked to reveal the rest of the smooth white surface until it was finally revealed in full. The Glyphgate as it was now known was massive. The portal of the gate was as large as Hexoatl’s main entrance and its smooth white surface completely unmarred by the Lizardmen workers. It was covered in a maze of intricate arcane symbols and runes, a language older than the Lizardmen race only understood by the First Generation Slann and the Old Ones themselves. Complex webs of invisible magical energies flowed between the glyphs and criss-crossed the pristine white surface. The priests had been chittering among themselves trying to work out these mysteries even at the first sign of the white barrier, and they were no closer to understanding it than before.

Days dragged on, yet the Glyphgate remained closed. Although the lack of progress was frustrating it had given Szeratops time to heal. He was still not in any state to lead a charge and could not yet wield his great mace, but at least now he could don his armour and hold a spear. As he probed his wounds and tested his muscles he noticed the priests had gone quiet. They were no longer chanting their incantations, and had even stopped arguing amongst themselves. Something was wrong.

“Casting has ceased. Reason?” he queried them in simple low saurian. In his current state he considered eloquence and wordplay unnecessary. He was a leader not a diplomat.

“Eternity Warden, something is wrong. The Winds of Magic blow, but they come not to us. The power of Azyr and Ghur are being drawn away.”

Szeratops knew little of the workings of magic, but he had seen enough of it in his lifetime to know this would not bode well for them.

“Where? How?” he asked, again in low saurian.

“Dhar. Dark magic. The strands of the eight winds are being woven into a tapestry of destruction. It is drawing closer.”

The Saurus leader tensed. Dhar was not taught by the Old Ones to their mortal servants, it was a twisted abomination of magic formed long after the Old Ones left this world to their children. Only Anathema and Wayward children used Dhar, and they were no friends to the First.

“Stop all excavation. Assemble the war host. Prepare for battle.”

The words incited panic among the skinks. Most of the fighting force of Saurus was posted along the new highway to protect the workers and the warbeasts were stabled at the Blood Pyramid. All that was left here were those few Saurus labourers, the Skink and Kroxigor workers and Szeratops’ bodyguard. It would take time for reinforcements to arrive in force – hopefully they would not be needed.

The Lizardmen force was still in disarray when the first attack struck. Sure footed skirmishers emerged seemingly from nowhere unleashing a hail of crossbow bolts before charging headlong into the masses of Skinks. As the feral mountain dwelling Elves cut into the panicking Lizardmen a greater force began to emerge. Light cavalry, usually nimble and fast in open battle cautiously navigated perilous footholds on the approach to the construction site. Behind them more heavily armed and armoured Dark Elves formed small supporting groups – the usual rank and file formations impossible in the rugged terrain. Even in such disorder the Elf army was a powerful force, and without the backbone of Saurus warriors Szeratops knew this would prove to be a difficult battle.

Szeratops and his bodyguard moved forwards to join the fray. He was still too injured to contribute much himself, but his presence among the Skink host strengthened their resolve. The Temple Guard cut down any Dark Elves that approached, and under his command the Skinks had rallied and began to overwhelm the first wave of attackers. Saurus warriors and those Skinks disciplined enough to form cohorts had assembled a sort of battle line preventing the new arrivals from joining the chaotic skirmish, but it would still not be enough to eke out a victory.

As the next group of Dark Elves approached Szeratops noticed something about them. Something different. Something that wasn’t quite right. Their equipment was well used and poorly maintained, their garments stained and tattered from travelling but it was their faces that were most telling. They were afraid. They were desperate.

“They are fleeing…” he muttered aloud.

They were fleeing from some calamity in the north, and such was their fear that they would bring an entire army across the Blackspine Mountains to willingly charge headlong into a Lizardmen force. The Elves knew that casualties would be high, what would drive them to such desperation?

The train of thought was swiftly interrupted by predatory instinct as he felt the impact of a crossbow bolt dig into his armoured chestpiece. The urge to charge headlong into the enemy and rip them limb from limb was strong – almost overwhelming, but his experience and instinctive tactics suppressed it and took over. Arranging his forces into smaller supporting formations, similar to what the Elves had done he began to issue commands again.

Javelins flew through the air and Skinks skittered back behind the Saurus shield walls. At such close range the Elves abandoned their ranged weapons and drew their swords and charged headlong into the Lizardmen. Their desperation added to their natural speed and renowned ferocity and the Druchii quickly gained the upper hand. Try as they might to break the Elves, the Lizardmen were outnumbered by far even as support trickled in from the mountain highway. They had to fall back to the Glyphgate.

More and more ragged bands of Elves poured out of the mountainside and assailed the retreating Lizardmen. The cold calculations of odds and tactics ran through Szeratop’s head, the cool logic mixing with burning instinct formulated dozens of potential plans in mere moments. All had the same outcome. They had lost. Despite this it was his duty to fight on and the best outcome could be achieved by funnelling the Elves into the dig site where their numbers would play less a part in the fight.

Reaching the gate and the comparatively narrow tunnel leading to it Szeratops reformed his small force and faced the oncoming horde of frenzied Elves. Curiously only a small portion of the force had followed them into the mountain cavern. Most had continued down the highway – and quickly. Whatever they were running from must be close.

How, how, how did I miss this until now?

This stuff just keeps getting stronger. The Lustrians have been on the front for for a long time, so a set back was due. But a simple defeat wouldn't leave me feeling this anxious.

Write faster Fhanados, I can't handle the tension!

While this isn't as indepth as Bob's suggestions.

Might I suggest naming Biqicuatectzin something else? At the very least include a parenthesis pronunciation guide plus an explanation of what his name means in Saurian).

Just whenever my mind has to translate a giant collection of consonants and vowels and papers over with "that Saurus guy" it prevents me from immersing myself in the narrative and makes it harder to suspend my disbelief towards your engaging fantasy world.

That said, that is a very minor blemish on an excellent narrative.

I can't wait to find out what's been chasing the Dark Elves...

To be honest I don't know what the exact pronounciation of Biqicuatectzin would be. I pronounce it like "Biki-kwatek-zin" but I could be way off. It's pretty much a mash of words from the post about High Saurian language: biqi being small, cuatec meaning historian and tzin being an honorific.

Anyway the next piece is about 1/3 of the way through and work is looking quiet so hopefully I'll have something new soon.

Munditlazan
The steady trickle of re-enforcements from Lustria had done much to ease Zpakatax’s trepidation about the situation in the Badlands. The various Human and Dwarf settlements of Border Princes posed little threat to Munditlazan, but their skirmish actions against the Orcs in the Badlands seemed to have worsened the situation. By assassinating Orc warlords and shamans the leaderless warbands were absorbed by more dominant groups. It had gotten to the point where the Lizardmen had withdrawn all of their forces from the Badlands and had focussed their efforts on securing the Border Princes.

With something approaching satisfaction he appraised the host assembled in the courtyard below. It had a long way to go before they would be strong enough to take on the Orc hordes but it was still one of the largest armies he’d commanded in his centuries of service to the Slann. His ill temper and frequent bouts of fury had made him poorly suited to govern the running of a city, so the Skinks had largely taken the responsibility off his hands. Although the whole endeavour was technically still an invasion, and thus squarely under his command, the only dealings he had with such mundane tasks were through his Skink attendant. He did not complain. This gave him much more time to evaluate and organise the forces at his disposal, and oversee the military campaign in the surrounding region.

The skittering attendant suddenly appeared at his side and the General’s mood instantly fouled. Zpakatax had not bothered to lean the creature’s name, it was irrelevant. He was easily identifiable by his demeanour, colouration and pitch. And by the way he had positioned himself to flee, Darkscale knew he brought more banal ramblings about the city. He glanced sidelong at the skink and nodded for the drivel to begin.

General Zpakatax turned away from the courtyard and strode into the temple that currently served as the primary administrative building in the city while a new Pyramid of Records was being constructed. He dimly registered the background babbling of his attendant as he made his way to the council chambers at the heart of the pyramid. He approached the newly polished ornate stone doors and stopped suddenly.

“Repeat,” he growled.

The attendant started and looked up at his master.

“E-excuse me General?”

“Repeat what you last said,” Darkscale turned to his attendant and spoke firmly in High Saurian so that there was no mistake of what he had asked. “The last entry of your report before we stopped.”

“M-meetings with emissaries from the Munditecah leaders yielded positive results. Negotiations continue and…”

“ENOUGH!” furious the Saurus warrior rounded on the stone door and slammed it open.

Immediately every eye in the room turned to the hulking figure in the doorway. Unarmed and unarmoured as he was, Zpakatax still struck an intimidating form – towering over the assembled Skink council and bigger still than the Saurus Warriors circling the outside of the chamber.

“Why was I not told?” his furious growl echoed through the unadorned stone chamber.

“Please General, calm yourself and join us,” said one brightly coloured Skink Chief,

“Why should I be calm when treason poisons my city?” the echoing words chilled the blood of many of the gathered Skinks.

“There has been no treason here great General,” said another Chief garbed in a cloak made of Ripperdactyl hide. “We all act in your stead as was agreed upon. In the interests of this city and the mission tasked to us by Lord Mazdamundi.”

“The mission was tasked to ME by Mazdamundi,” Zpakatax barked. “All of you here are subservient to ME!”

“Not any longer,” said an albino skink in the trappings of a Priest. “You still have your task – to put those of this continent in their place and to remove the Orcs from the calculations. Your command extended to us in times of war, but Munditlazan and its surrounds are no longer at war. The rat men have fled into the depths of the world, abandoning their fortresses and warrens. The warm bloods have retreated to their castles, relinquishing to us their lands. The Munditecah have agreed to aid us against the Orcs and to return to their proper place in the mountains once their duty is done.”

“The Saurus command in times of war,” said the colourful Chief. “There is no war here Old Blood. The war is out there – in the badlands and beyond.”

For the first time in his life Zpakatax was unsure. The mission was progressing and much of what the assembly had said had merit but still… It grated him. He felt uneasy in a way that he never had felt in his centuries of war and conflict. He struggled to find the word in Saurian to express his thoughts, but what he felt was betrayal.

Frustrated, he let out a bellowing roar that drowned out all other sound in the chamber - a roar of anger and aggression reserved for the foes of the Old Ones.

For what seemed like an age nobody so much as twitched. The loudest sound was the heavy rage-filled breaths of the black scaled Saurus. The silence was broken by an ancient warrior’s curse that had long fallen into disuse.

“You are wrong. You are all wrong. There is still a war here.”

With those words General Zpakatax Darkscale done something he had never in his long life imagined he would do. Shouting a brutal warcry in low Saurian he shoulder charged the nearest Saurus guard, smashing him into the wall with a loud wet crack. Before anyone could react he grabbed the fallen warrior’s shield and spear and turned to face the Council.

“Attendant, have the temple sealed,” he ordered over the confused outrage of the Council’s protests. “Or are you one of them?”

Frightened beyond words the diminutive Skink dropped his pile of scrolls and plaques and fled the chamber. One of the council’s record keepers attempted to follow but was struck down by a furious lash from Darkscale’s tail.

Cries of alarm and the distant rumbling of stone doors being closed were nothing more than muffled background noise. Darkscale barely noticed the Saurus warriors form a defensive wall between him and the council. He barely registered the splash of blood spatter across his chest or the stabbing pain of spear tips piercing his gnarled hide. A red haze descended, clouding his periphery even as bolts of lightning shot skywards. He felt bones snap and flesh tear – none of it his. There was a thunderclap, a crash of falling stone and a cloud of dust that turned his world into one shadows and pain.

Heartbeats later it was over. The red had lifted, but the chamber was still obscured by the fog like dust. It took Darkscale a few moments to fully realise what had happened. He had attacked and killed at least some of the council and their bodyguard – the corpses were evidence enough to that. The ceiling had come down, leaving a clear hole to the unfinished upper levels of the pyramid. He didn’t doubt that some of the treacherous Council escaped that way.

Tenatively, Darkscale’s skink attendant crept into the ruined chamber. It had been hours since the pyramid shook with the force of a fearsome explosion and the sun had set some time ago now. Fear drove his every action. He did not want to be here but he felt compelled. He felt afraid. Slowly he approached the mound of rubble in the centre of the chamber, nimbly stepping over the ruined bodies of Saurus and Skink. His worst fears materialised in the dust shrouded shadows before his very eyes. On a slab of ruined masonry General Zpakatax was seated like some tyrant on a throne of rubble.

“You came back little one,” the General rasped. He was clearly wounded, and quite badly. “I did not expect this.”

“The city is in turmoil General. The council is missing and the portal to Lustria has closed. We have no re-enforcements and the Orc horde is on the move. The young races saw the light from the explosion and scouting parties have been spotted in the wilderness and there is an envoy of Munditecah waiting at the city gates demanding an audience with the cou….”

“Very good little one,” Zpakatax’s words were a hoarse whisper. “Send them in. I would like to finally meet our Dwarven… friends.”

“Very well General,” the attendant turned, eager to leave the grisly scene.

“Wait little one… tell me this. What is your name?”

“Biqitehetec sir,” the Skink glanced back and shuddered at Zpakatax’s cruel grin. He instantly regretted not lying.

Fang and claw politics. I like it.

Still I my mind is stuck on the cliff hanger from before. What is chasing the Dark Elves?

Tantrum, hey?. My kids used to behave in much the same way. In a few hundred years he will have grown out of it.

It is worth using the word "dwarf" once in association with the Saurian word "Munditecah" just for those of us who can't find the Lustrian phrase book.

You've come a long way from using names like Zpakatax - descriptive and memorable for all the wrong reasons, to using high Saurian terms for names - which has all the right reasons behind it but massacres readability.

The middle ground is to use a nickname / diminutive form to help us.

The following will not work in the dialogue you have above, doesn't really need to be said at all, and allows you the best of both worlds. - you show how clever you are and he gets the disrespectful nickname "little" which he can carry onwards proudly.
" Wait little one. Tell me your name."
"Biqitehetec, sir."
"Righto, Biqi. Let us carry on with the war. Peace is for losers."

You can also cover it off when the speak later

"Biqi, pull this is arrow out would you."
"It's Biqitehetec, General."
"I can shorten your name or shorten you. Which would you prefer?"


And thank you for inspiring an elf name for me (i needed one)
Tee'eldearr (TL;DR)

Thanks for the kind words guys! You two are the resident loremasters so it's always nice to get feedback

The mystery behind the Dark Elves shall be revealed shortly - in the next piece we see what Aki-Pterixx is up to.

I've taken Bob's advise about the Dwarf/Munditecah situation and made a small edit. There will be some abbreviations and nicknames for the two Biqi's - Zpakatax is not the most pleasant individual to serve so (in)appropriate titles will abound for poor little Biqitehetec (yes his name is similar to Biqicuatectzin, and for a reason!).