A terradon rider swooped down onto the terrace outside the council chamber.
“Lords,” he shouted. “The greenskin attack was a diversion. A Dark Elf black arc has appeared on the coast south of the Aymara Swamps. Their army is advancing through the deep jungle in the hinterland will be upon the city within two days. The army of Klodorex is marching out to meet them as we speak. I must return to my squadron.”
He pulled his mount’s head towards the balcony and it rolled over the edge. At the last moment it spread its wings and beat its way south.
Scalenex sighed. “According to the Great Plan we would use the greenskins, who are easy to manipulate, as a buffer against the stronger Dark Elf foe.”
“Use the greenskins as what?” asked Lord Bow’xa.
“A buffer.”
“Hmm. After Xholanka’s effort , I don't think we could scrape up enough of them to make a burger.”
“Technically, they are spore based fungal life forms,” Corrected Bo’b, “so we could have made a green salad.”
“Either way their destruction is a disaster. What are we going to have for supper?”
“You are missing the point, brothers,” Scalenex’s stomach ulcer developed a stomach ulcer. “The jungle is now full of Dark Elves.”
“An excellent point, Scalenex. Hydra Bolognese anyone? Bouef Naggaroth?” asked Bow’xa.
“I mean we are running out of expendable assets to hurl into the path of the Druchii to blunt their advance.”
“Oh. Why don’t we just get the new guy to-” Old Blood Qupakoco performed an odd gesture, laying his stuffed bear into a horizontal position. “put the Dark Elf problem to bed?”
“We should probably have a little talk about the new guy before he comes back,” said Priest N’dege. “I’ve read a lot of plaques on my daily journeys on the astral train.”
“Don’t you mean the astral plane?”
“No, definitely a train. I’d get to college in twenty minutes if it was an astral plane. Anyway, this fellow can create prophetic plaques, draw magic & weapons out his own essence and can create allies from clay or summon them from who knows where. He is powerful enough to destroy a Waaagh!-” Ndege started a coughing fit at the effort of pronouncing the last word.
“I like him.”
“You like everyone, Bow’xa. Anyway, the guy is a god. He is one of the Old Ones.”
“What? Which one?”
“The Lost One,” grated Scalenex. “Don’t any of you refer to the Lustriapedia?”
“This is smashing news for the Great Consensus.” Lord Tzlanputin clapped his hands. “An Old One has returned.”
“I’m not sure it is good news for my Great Plan. In the last ten minutes, he has destabilised the greenskins who were our shield against the dark elves. If he destroys the Druichii threat, the High Elves, who are currently mostly contained in Ulthuan, will be free to roam. That is likely to spark off a response from the dwarfs. It then goes on from there. This world is in a delicate equilibrium, and this Old One presents a huge threat to the glorious balance between light and dark.”
“I have problem, too,” rumbled Discomute.
“Yes. Jock-itch. We have all heard about your problem, Discomute.”
“Different problem. This god summons saurus from nowhere. That power does not belong in this age. Sounds like Age of Sig-”
“SHHHHHH!” Bo’b hushed him. “We are still in denial. Don’t mention that name.”
“You have grunted something valid,” said Scalenex. “If there isn’t a valid explanation for that portal thing, I shall need to unwillingly un-unsuspend my disbelief. Sheesh, it’s almost as bad as a stone temple ship.”
“What’s almost as bad?”
“Oh, Xholanka, you are back. And you are leaving a trail of… eww.”
"Sorry, little messy down there" Xholankha apologised.
"What.....is.......that?" Demanded scale ex pointing a scaled finger a Dorfl.
"Manners!, Scalenex" scolded B'ob
"He is an old old friend, and he helped accompany me here, his name is Dorfl"
Explained Xholankha"He is very useful, he can craft to the same ability of master rune lords of the dwarven kingdoms and they have the strength of a sky Titan, they are also very understanding and compassionate but also very intelligent, much more so than you or I"
"And...?" Pushes scalenex
"Oh!, right what is he, well he is a Gur'dai"
"What?" Said Scalenex with a puzzled look.
"A Gur'dai, they are a very advanced race of beings, that lived here long before we came to this planet."replied Xholankha, " also, I heard the word portal mentioned, did I not?"
“Scalenex was demanding an explanation of the portal you just opened.” Lord Che’khov leaned forward in anticipation. “I was hoping you would explain too, just in case it becomes relevant to the plot later.”
“Simple, I use the orbs developed by my brother, Uxmac.”
“Orbs of Uxmac,” scoffed Scalenex. “Earlier you used the Morphus of Tzunki, a golden ring with an orb in it. Are you going to get out of every plot hole with an orb?”
“Pretty much.”
“I like this guy,” said Bow’xa.
“So do I,” said Che’khov. “He’s going to save me a LOT of work.”
“Let him tell his secrets. That way I will know which ones to borrow-acquire,” Y’ttar squeaked.
“An Orb of Uxmac. Wherever one is placed in the multiverse, I am able to open a portal to that place, safely.”
“Where did the saurus come from then?” asked Tlac’natai. “I haven’t observed those markings before, and I observe quite a lot, let me tell you.”
“That orb is in my city, X’ogro, and the saurus come from there.”
“Ha, I cry Mahrlect right there, laughed Scalenex. “As I was telling the council just as you turned up out of nowhere… there is an orb somewhere in this chamber isn’t there?”
Xholanka plucked a glowy sphere from the eye socket of a reptilian statue. “It was set here in the old times by my brother Uxmac. It is one of only two that remain in lizardmen territory, the other, as I said, is in X’ogro.”
“I say Mahrlect, again. What I was telling the council was that skink scouts had discovered the city of X’ogro in the desert wastes above the Southlands. The DEAD city of X’ogro. It is an empty ruin.”
“An empty ruin?, you are Incorrect. I merely have a cloaking device that prevents pretty much everything from getting close to it, But in the future it will grow even larger, filled with the memory of its greatest champions, but at the moment it is a bank holiday, so I just changed the polarity and pulled a spawning from the future, It is they whom I called.”
“Ooh. Which future is this?” asked Discomute.
“It is the Age of… you probably don’t want to know.”
“So you can just pop back and forth to the future whenever you want to get weapons and reinforcements? How very convenient.” Che’khov could see endless possibilities of an early retirement.”
“It doesn’t quite work that way. The portal into the future is like a doorway with the knob on one side only. I can open a way to the orb, but if I pass through, the door would close behind me.”
A gentle sobbing sound came from the corner of the room. All eyes turned to look at Lord Da'rk-IV, who had huge tears sliding down his face. They left glimmering trails as if they were silver slimed snails of sorrow. His ample belly shuddered with every misery wracked breath he drew. He held up one hand, with two fingers raised.
“Wait I think he is trying to communicate,” said Bo’b. “Two? Are you trying to tell us two?”
The slann raised both hands and held them out expansively.
“Big? Two big…too big?”
Da'rk-IV shook his head vigorously. The languid tears were shaken free, and in flight they became silver sparks which pattered to the stone floor, dashing themselves to oblivion.”
“Not too big. Too much?”
Da'rk-IV nodded. It would be possible to describe the action in greater detail, but it is getting late. He pointed to his mouth and began rapidly opening and closing it.
“Too much talking?”
The slann gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Too much exposition?”
He started to look angry.
“Wait… too much telling!”
Da'rk-IV grinned approval, then looked sad again. He twined two of his fingers together in a complex tangle.
“Knot? Knot!”
Another nod, then the great Lord of Shoadn'tezl began jiggling his belly and rocking forwards and back.
“laugh…laughing…funny? Ok so, too much telling, not funny… not funny enough? Yes, that’s it – too much telling, not funny enough.” Bo’b walked over and gave Ndege a big slap across the face, which knocked his furtive incense stick onto the ground. “Is that better?”
Da'rk-IV gave a pair of thumbs up.
“He has a point,” said Hyperborean. “We should try to get to another one of those kewl action sequences again. But we are stuck here and the Dark Elves are two days march away.”
“Cro’sfoot could fly there much sooner without challenging the laws of plot time,” noted Che’khov. “He has a terradon.”
“But how would he destroy a Druchii army by himself?”
Scalenex gave himself a resounding face claw. Da'rk-IV applauded. “For the last time, we don’t want the Druchii destroyed. We need them for the Great Plan. He would just need to kick the puppy.”
“Even kicking the puppy would be challenging for a single terradon rider. Why don’t we get him to fly down there with the Che’khov’s Orb-”
“Excuse me,” said Xholanka, “it’s not Che’khov’s Orb.”
“It might as well be. Cro’sfoot flies down with the orb, Xholanka opens a portal, and some of us pass through it to go and kick the puppy. Old Blood Kcibrihp-Esurc, you’ve developed an undeserved reputation for badassery, you can lead the sortie.”
“No, not me. I’m staying as far away from Dark Elves as possible. There is a dark something from Naggaroth which fills me with dread and loathing.”
“Would you like to tell us this dread and dark tale in great detail?” asked Bo’b. “Telling is good.”
Lord Da'rk-IV floated over and slapped Bo’b on the face. Both Ndege and Scalenex applauded.
“Fine, someone give gramps the orb and we’ll decide who goes in the traditional way.” Hyperborean sighed.
Xholanka handed the orb to Crowsfoot and Qupakoco led him gently to the terradon launch pad.
“What is the traditional means of decision making these days? Couldn’t we just…” asked Xholanka.
Scalenex stared at him until the god’s voice trailed away. “I call,” he intoned gravely, “the Sortie Composition Selection Committee to order. First item of business, would someone please confirm the minutes of the previous meeting?”
