Skink
Tziruzitza
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"A servant awakes", part 1.
The palanquin drifted menacingly down the narrow street of the wretched warmblood settlement, carved stone and gold floating in the air half a world away from its jungle home. It came to a halt as, ahead, a pair of hulking kroxigor battered their way through a makeshift barricade, swinging stone hammers larger than a man. An upturned cart formed the bulk of the obstruction, and the reptilian beasts, each a twelve foot tall mountain of muscle, roared their victory as it shattered under their relentless blows.
Around their legs, a pack of skinks had been darting to and fro, hurling short javelins at any sign of movement from the barricade's defenders. As the breach was torn wider by their giant kin, the smaller reptiles hissed and forced their way through. The first few fell to desperate swords as the melee erupted, but there were too few defenders to hold them all back, and red-robed bodies began to fall. The skirmish ended as abruptly as it had started when the kroxigor, frustrated at being kept from the fight, dropped their hammers and ripped the remaining timbers apart with their clawed hands. The last few defenders promptly fled as one of their number was bitten clean in half by a snarling jaw full of vicious teeth.
Denied their enemy, the two creatures contented themselves by hurling what was left of the barricade through the walls of the houses beside them before moving on down the street. With the way now clear, the palanquin began to move again. The Slann atop the looming stone construction cared little for the damage his troops did to the hovels around him; his sole purpose here was to locate and destroy a single individual, one who would otherwise cause a great battle to be lost in years to come. His brow furrowed as he floated past the site of the barricade and realised how few defenders there had been; something wasn't right. Seconds later, realisation dawned as he felt an ethereal shadow forming in the building beside him. With time for no more than a single thought, a battle of wills erupted, arcane shadows scrabbling against ancient wards.
---
Bright yellow eyes flickered as she moved cautiously down the street at the back of the skink pack. Concerned by the growing gap between the vanguard and their master, she chittered for the pack to slow its pace. With a brief flash of an angry red crest and a barked command, the leader of the pack countermanded her. As she was drawing breath to respond to this impertinent challenge to her authority, she staggered as a thought suddenly slammed into her mind. "The huagerdon's gamble!" Recognising the less-than-delicate touch of her master's mind, she span round to see the floating throne facing the fractured wall of the building next to it, lightning blazing around it and flaring into the rapidly-disintegrating structure.
Frantically, she looked back and snapped a command, the urgency in her tone and purple-tinged crest leaving no room for argument. The pack streamed past her to take defensive positions in the street around the Slann to guard against a physical assault, leaving the kroxigor to hold their position. The pack leader gave her a deferential nod of apology as he passed her, but she didn't even notice as her mind reeled under the backlash of the magical assault hammering against her master. The huagerdon's gamble? Why that? The small lizard's gamble, as it was known, was that if one of their number was grabbed by an ambush predator, the rest of the pack would swarm the threat from all sides...
Abruptly, she turned and sprinted down an alleyway between two of the hovels. Pausing briefly at the next street to glance around, she started to move up it, into position behind her master's assailant. As she did, she let her own magic flare in warning, just as the little huagerdons would hiss and flash their neck frills as they surrounded their attacker. The intent was to say "this will be an expensive meal", the gamble was that the predator might call their bluff... A shadow suddenly leapt through the wall ahead of her, twisting and reaching for her, and she lashed out with her own powers, blowing the shadow into harmless smoke and dispersing it. She could sense that her master's defences were weakening, though he was slowly turning more and more of his attention to the struggle.
It was a question of time, not strength, she knew - with his full attention roused, the ancient Slann could easily crush one warmblooded spellcaster. She just had to make sure the enemy didn't find a weakness before that happened, and so she threw all her power into a series of crackling bolts of energy, sending them smashing through the walls between them. Her opponent's powers stuttered briefly and she grinned viciously, before gasping in shock as a brutal counter-attack struck her. Desperately, she threw up mental wards, and staggered back. Just barely, she could sense the same black, grasping tendrils tearing at her master, stunning him and scattering his thoughts before he could focus them. She was failing him... failing them all... What could she do to give him more time, what could she give that she hadn't already given?
As she weakened, she realised that more and more of the tendrils were seeking her instead of her master... she was the weak link. If her defences failed, the full force of the attack would rebound onto her master, and he... She couldn't let that happen. She knew this spell now, had the measure of it, and there was one last thing she could do to keep its attention for a few moments longer. "The antok's choice" was the thought she pulsed to her master, before she dropped her wards. The tendrils ripped into her and forced a shriek from her mouth. As her mind clouded, the cry of pain turned into a choking laugh as she dimly felt the full strength of the spell greedily turn on her... she was right; without the flaring backlash of failing defences, the tendrils had latched on to her instead of rebounding... As her mind slowly went dark, she felt the echoes of her master's conciousness coming into full focus... and she smiled.
The palanquin drifted menacingly down the narrow street of the wretched warmblood settlement, carved stone and gold floating in the air half a world away from its jungle home. It came to a halt as, ahead, a pair of hulking kroxigor battered their way through a makeshift barricade, swinging stone hammers larger than a man. An upturned cart formed the bulk of the obstruction, and the reptilian beasts, each a twelve foot tall mountain of muscle, roared their victory as it shattered under their relentless blows.
Around their legs, a pack of skinks had been darting to and fro, hurling short javelins at any sign of movement from the barricade's defenders. As the breach was torn wider by their giant kin, the smaller reptiles hissed and forced their way through. The first few fell to desperate swords as the melee erupted, but there were too few defenders to hold them all back, and red-robed bodies began to fall. The skirmish ended as abruptly as it had started when the kroxigor, frustrated at being kept from the fight, dropped their hammers and ripped the remaining timbers apart with their clawed hands. The last few defenders promptly fled as one of their number was bitten clean in half by a snarling jaw full of vicious teeth.
Denied their enemy, the two creatures contented themselves by hurling what was left of the barricade through the walls of the houses beside them before moving on down the street. With the way now clear, the palanquin began to move again. The Slann atop the looming stone construction cared little for the damage his troops did to the hovels around him; his sole purpose here was to locate and destroy a single individual, one who would otherwise cause a great battle to be lost in years to come. His brow furrowed as he floated past the site of the barricade and realised how few defenders there had been; something wasn't right. Seconds later, realisation dawned as he felt an ethereal shadow forming in the building beside him. With time for no more than a single thought, a battle of wills erupted, arcane shadows scrabbling against ancient wards.
---
Bright yellow eyes flickered as she moved cautiously down the street at the back of the skink pack. Concerned by the growing gap between the vanguard and their master, she chittered for the pack to slow its pace. With a brief flash of an angry red crest and a barked command, the leader of the pack countermanded her. As she was drawing breath to respond to this impertinent challenge to her authority, she staggered as a thought suddenly slammed into her mind. "The huagerdon's gamble!" Recognising the less-than-delicate touch of her master's mind, she span round to see the floating throne facing the fractured wall of the building next to it, lightning blazing around it and flaring into the rapidly-disintegrating structure.
Frantically, she looked back and snapped a command, the urgency in her tone and purple-tinged crest leaving no room for argument. The pack streamed past her to take defensive positions in the street around the Slann to guard against a physical assault, leaving the kroxigor to hold their position. The pack leader gave her a deferential nod of apology as he passed her, but she didn't even notice as her mind reeled under the backlash of the magical assault hammering against her master. The huagerdon's gamble? Why that? The small lizard's gamble, as it was known, was that if one of their number was grabbed by an ambush predator, the rest of the pack would swarm the threat from all sides...
Abruptly, she turned and sprinted down an alleyway between two of the hovels. Pausing briefly at the next street to glance around, she started to move up it, into position behind her master's assailant. As she did, she let her own magic flare in warning, just as the little huagerdons would hiss and flash their neck frills as they surrounded their attacker. The intent was to say "this will be an expensive meal", the gamble was that the predator might call their bluff... A shadow suddenly leapt through the wall ahead of her, twisting and reaching for her, and she lashed out with her own powers, blowing the shadow into harmless smoke and dispersing it. She could sense that her master's defences were weakening, though he was slowly turning more and more of his attention to the struggle.
It was a question of time, not strength, she knew - with his full attention roused, the ancient Slann could easily crush one warmblooded spellcaster. She just had to make sure the enemy didn't find a weakness before that happened, and so she threw all her power into a series of crackling bolts of energy, sending them smashing through the walls between them. Her opponent's powers stuttered briefly and she grinned viciously, before gasping in shock as a brutal counter-attack struck her. Desperately, she threw up mental wards, and staggered back. Just barely, she could sense the same black, grasping tendrils tearing at her master, stunning him and scattering his thoughts before he could focus them. She was failing him... failing them all... What could she do to give him more time, what could she give that she hadn't already given?
As she weakened, she realised that more and more of the tendrils were seeking her instead of her master... she was the weak link. If her defences failed, the full force of the attack would rebound onto her master, and he... She couldn't let that happen. She knew this spell now, had the measure of it, and there was one last thing she could do to keep its attention for a few moments longer. "The antok's choice" was the thought she pulsed to her master, before she dropped her wards. The tendrils ripped into her and forced a shriek from her mouth. As her mind clouded, the cry of pain turned into a choking laugh as she dimly felt the full strength of the spell greedily turn on her... she was right; without the flaring backlash of failing defences, the tendrils had latched on to her instead of rebounding... As her mind slowly went dark, she felt the echoes of her master's conciousness coming into full focus... and she smiled.
(just help me make sure she doesn't go all Mary-Sue!)
