Slann
Scalenex
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This story is built on the foundation of many of my older stories. I try to write my stories so that anyone could read just that one be able to enjoy it, so this story will bring readers up to speed of past events that are important. This is the darkest story I have yet attempted to write.
If you haven’t read my previous stories, this is very spoiler heavy for those older stories. If spoilers bother you, you should read my other works or at least you should read The Orphaned Temple City and Fall of Turochclitan, I pretty much spoil the ending of those stories within a few paragraphs. The rest of the stories have bits that are mentioned in passing and Renliss comes up several times, but none of my plot twists are mentioned. Page counts are on MS Word.
After the Death of Sigmar, Merestar the Slann tries to take a more active hand in guiding humanity
The Fall of Turochitan (~5 pages)
A pair of outcast vampires journey to Lustria with the goal of drinking a Slann's blood
Count Renliss' Journey to Lustria (~21 pages)
Klodorex is in disarray after the Slann disappear forcing an unlikely hero to unite the city
The Orphaned Temple City (~39 pages)
A party of Skinks is sent on a mysterious quest.
Divided We Fall (~43 pages)
Dwarves and Lizardmen unite against Skaven and Daemons
New Alliances (~45 pages) No spoilers at all! This story happens in the Southlands, not Lustria (read it anyway)
Legacies
Prologue
Count Renliss, Exiled Vampire Lord
In a cave in Lustria, the incomprehensible warping effects of Tzeentch laced with the allure of Slaanesh had created an unsolvable riddle capable of enticing any advanced intellect to endlessly try to solve it. Now the jailers were the jailed, trapped in a prison of their own making.
The Lord of Change, Thazerick, was already completely incapacitated. His former ally, Darfiel the Keeper of Secrets, was likewise trapped but still had his mental faculties—for the moment. Darfiel knew breaking out was futile, but the outside of the jail would be less impregnable. He marshaled the last of his fading strength then stretched out a siren call as far reach as he could praying to Slaanesh that it would echo across the whole globe.
He called his legacy. Not legacy in the sense humans use, merely a genetic line. Darfiel called out to a legacy of action and knowledge. Long ago, Darfiel empowered mortals in the past who took on their own apprentices who became masters who took on apprentices throughout the centuries. He didn’t even know who he was calling or if any were alive. He just knew he had no other chance.
To the former priestess, Kayishen, the call was deafening. Over a thousand years ago, Darfiel taught her secrets personally under the guise of an alternate face of Slaanesh named Phidas. Kayishen had a direct link to Darfiel and was not very far geographically removed.
Kayishen was now a shadow of her former self, almost literally. A spectral banshee, she was subservient to the Lustrian vampire lord known as Count Renliss. She couldn’t resist the pull of her original master and managed to talk Renliss into coming to look at the prison.
“I see this area is steeped with potent magic, including concealment magic but at this close range, the magic aura is too strong for the concealment to block”
“It contains power unimaginable! The Slann have imprisoned a mighty servant of the True Old Ones beyond the wards. We must break through to them."
“No.”
“NO!?!?!”
“I had interrogated a scouting party from Klodorex not long ago. This must be where the Battle of Kaitar’s Stand took place. The Slann imprisoned two Daemon lords here. Any ward built by four Slann is something I don’t want to test myself against.”
“Surely you are not that afraid of the Slann when they aren’t even present. Their bound spells are not strong enough to threaten one of your skill.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but I don’t feel like alerting the Slann to our presence here, we are not yet ready.”
“We will be ready with the Daemons on our side! Potent allies my lord. They will reward you for releasing them, power beyond imagining—”
“No, The Daemons of Chaos do not share power and have no gratitude.”
“They reward those who provide them service.”
“Yes, I’m sure the benefits you gained in your six months of being queen more than made up for your centuries of torment that followed.”
“But surely they hate the reptiles more than anyone—mutual foes!”
“No. The only thing more dangerous than being a Daemon’s foe is to be a Daemon’s ally. The Daemons will not recognize common cause with us. They never do.”
“Why are you turning down this opportunity?!?”
“I’ve learned the hard way not to ignore legends. I know hundreds of stories of individuals working with the forces of Chaos. Do you know how many came better for it?”
There was a pregnant pause. As angry as she was Kayishen was not going to take the bait and answer the rhetorical question.
“None of them.”
Kayishen attempted a different tack, flattery.
“But Lord, surely none of the others were as mighty or cunning as you yourself are…”
“That’s what the others said. I am cunning enough to not repeat their mistakes.”
Kayishen stared at the warding with ill-disguised longing. Renliss knew she wouldn’t give up on this.
“I don’t care if the prison holds or not. If the Daemons get out that will cause problems for Klodorex. That is good, but I don’t want to be anywhere near them when they do. If the Daemons want out, they will need someone else to liberate them. Come, it’s time to leave”
Part 1
Adrienne of Hill’s Bend
Tarell the farmer waited anxiously outside his home with his two daughters Hertha and Rachel. His wife was in the labor with their third child. This was a clearly a far longer trial for her to endure than her first two children’s birth or the miscarriage that occurred between them. Tarell prayed to Sigmar and every god he knew that his wife would make it through. More than that Tarell prayed by the end of the day he would finally have a son.
A son could inherit his lands and help him work in the fields more than a daughter could. The Village of Hill’s Bend was unfortunately equidistant from a large forest and the coastline. That meant raiders could come from the north via the sea or the south emerging from the untamed forests. A son could help defend the farm against raiders. A daughter was another liability he was responsible for protecting.
The cries of pain from his wife stopped and a baby’s cries were able to be heard. About fifteen minutes later the midwife came out of the hut and began vigorously blowing a whistle.
Damn it!
The local midwife traveled with a bell and a whistle to announce the birth of healthy babies. She rang the bell for boys and blew the whistle for girls.
For a shameful moment, Tarrell hoped his third daughter would not survive. He even contemplated arranging that himself. He couldn’t bring himself to kill his own flesh and blood though. Especially not after how heartbroken his wife was after her miscarriage before.
I guess I have three daughters and no sons. I really wish she’d stop blowing that whistle. Some births don’t deserve fanfare.
Huan-kai of the Western Spawning Pool
Lord Desserex the Slann sat in his throne seemingly oblivious to his surroundings (as Slann are wont to do). The Skink attendants had no idea whether he was asleep, meditating on the mysteries of the universe, taking his turn reinforcing the barriers against Chaos or astrally projecting his consciousness to telepathically debate with Slann from distant locations. The few ranking Skinks in the know knew that Desserex and the other Slann of the city were in conflict (if vigorous debate would qualify as conflict) with Lord Mazdamundi of Hexoatl and Lord Chuqxlata(Chook-slot-ta) of Itza. Klodorex and the elder cities were disagreeing with how to deal with the prodigal races. Most of the Slann were neutral by default (either they were half-comatose or otherwise indifferent to the younger races). Of the Slann who joined the Debate, the Slann of the four largest cities mostly sided with the two Second Generation Slann. The majority of the Slann of Lustria’s lesser temple cities sided with Klodorex as well as the entirety of Southlands Slann who were involved. Klodorex had the first mover advantage there since they were the city that reopened the channels of communication with the Southlands.
Lord Desserex was naturally very busy carrying out his grand plans and trying to win more Slann over to his way of thinking, so the attendants were always waiting to carry out any orders needed. When Desserex jerked out of his trance one morning and ordered “attend the western spawning pools.” The Skinks nearly tripped over themselves in their haste to obey.
A rare few spawnings were predicted outright on golden plaques. Many were divined based on plaques and the readings of Skink Priest astrologers. Others were complete surprises. Sometimes Slann or Skink Priests got a premonition providing a brief warning. Generally if the Slann got the premonition it was considered even more auspicious. A large delegation of Skinks assembled by the pool in the faint dawn light under the direction of the Skink priest, Xapatli (Za-pah-TLEE).
The delegation waited. The sun rose fully. Then they waited some more. The sun rose to its zenith and began to set. Still the pool did not stir with a spawning. It’s still mirror-like surface showed nothing more than the purple reflection of the dusk sky.
Xapatli began to wonder if he should dismiss some of the delegation or at least send some of them to get provisions. Even an active Slann such as Desserex had a different frame of reference for the passage of time than Skinks and other mortals possessed. What a Slann considers to be an immediate issue could still take days or weeks to manifest. Finally, a Skink’s voice broke the silence.
“Look! In the center of the pool.”
The pool rippled and a single smallish form rose and headed towards the water’s edge. No more shapes emerged and the water grew still again.
Spawnings of single individuals are rare. Saurus leaders nearly always emerge from whoever can survive centuries of battle and tend to gain their position by attrition and experience rather than gain their status from predestined births. It is rarely obvious at their spawnings which ones will go on to become a Scar Veteran or Oldbloods. Most Skink Chiefs and Priests emerge with a spawning of lesser Skinks, usually the first or the last to rise were considered signs of the Old Ones favor. A single Skink being spawned was pretty much always considered a sign of great favor.
Most of the attendant party applauded and cheered. The Skink priests and their scribes simply stood in silent awe and confusion. This was clearly a Chameleon Skink. A spawning of one Chameleon Skink was unheard of. Even the legendary Oxyotl had spawning brothers. He was legendary for his deeds, not his spawning. He emerged from the Chaos Wastes alive and heralding the end of a long hiatus of Chameleon Skink spawnings, but the circumstances of his own spawning were unremarkable to the point of being forgotten.
The ranking Skinks rushed to the newly spawned Skink to look for markings of the Old Ones. There were obviously no colorations to look for since the newly spawned Chameleon Skink had emerged as the purple color of the reflective dusk waters and was rapidly changing to a darker color in response to the setting sun and the fact that he was now on land. The Skinks present checked his scales for unusual patterns or shapes, trying to feel for the marks of the Old Ones that they could not see with their eyes.
Other Skinks were on hand to see if he uttered any sounds. The Saurian language is half instinctual and half learned. It’s not-unheard for newly spawned Skinks (or rarely Sauri) to say something not long after emerging. These utterances were taken very seriously and recorded for posterity. Often taken as an omen for the spawning’s future. The scribes present dutifully recorded the new Chameleon Skink’s first words.
“Sssstop touching me!”
If you haven’t read my previous stories, this is very spoiler heavy for those older stories. If spoilers bother you, you should read my other works or at least you should read The Orphaned Temple City and Fall of Turochclitan, I pretty much spoil the ending of those stories within a few paragraphs. The rest of the stories have bits that are mentioned in passing and Renliss comes up several times, but none of my plot twists are mentioned. Page counts are on MS Word.
After the Death of Sigmar, Merestar the Slann tries to take a more active hand in guiding humanity
The Fall of Turochitan (~5 pages)
A pair of outcast vampires journey to Lustria with the goal of drinking a Slann's blood
Count Renliss' Journey to Lustria (~21 pages)
Klodorex is in disarray after the Slann disappear forcing an unlikely hero to unite the city
The Orphaned Temple City (~39 pages)
A party of Skinks is sent on a mysterious quest.
Divided We Fall (~43 pages)
Dwarves and Lizardmen unite against Skaven and Daemons
New Alliances (~45 pages) No spoilers at all! This story happens in the Southlands, not Lustria (read it anyway)
Legacies
Prologue
Count Renliss, Exiled Vampire Lord
In a cave in Lustria, the incomprehensible warping effects of Tzeentch laced with the allure of Slaanesh had created an unsolvable riddle capable of enticing any advanced intellect to endlessly try to solve it. Now the jailers were the jailed, trapped in a prison of their own making.
The Lord of Change, Thazerick, was already completely incapacitated. His former ally, Darfiel the Keeper of Secrets, was likewise trapped but still had his mental faculties—for the moment. Darfiel knew breaking out was futile, but the outside of the jail would be less impregnable. He marshaled the last of his fading strength then stretched out a siren call as far reach as he could praying to Slaanesh that it would echo across the whole globe.
He called his legacy. Not legacy in the sense humans use, merely a genetic line. Darfiel called out to a legacy of action and knowledge. Long ago, Darfiel empowered mortals in the past who took on their own apprentices who became masters who took on apprentices throughout the centuries. He didn’t even know who he was calling or if any were alive. He just knew he had no other chance.
To the former priestess, Kayishen, the call was deafening. Over a thousand years ago, Darfiel taught her secrets personally under the guise of an alternate face of Slaanesh named Phidas. Kayishen had a direct link to Darfiel and was not very far geographically removed.
Kayishen was now a shadow of her former self, almost literally. A spectral banshee, she was subservient to the Lustrian vampire lord known as Count Renliss. She couldn’t resist the pull of her original master and managed to talk Renliss into coming to look at the prison.
“I see this area is steeped with potent magic, including concealment magic but at this close range, the magic aura is too strong for the concealment to block”
“It contains power unimaginable! The Slann have imprisoned a mighty servant of the True Old Ones beyond the wards. We must break through to them."
“No.”
“NO!?!?!”
“I had interrogated a scouting party from Klodorex not long ago. This must be where the Battle of Kaitar’s Stand took place. The Slann imprisoned two Daemon lords here. Any ward built by four Slann is something I don’t want to test myself against.”
“Surely you are not that afraid of the Slann when they aren’t even present. Their bound spells are not strong enough to threaten one of your skill.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but I don’t feel like alerting the Slann to our presence here, we are not yet ready.”
“We will be ready with the Daemons on our side! Potent allies my lord. They will reward you for releasing them, power beyond imagining—”
“No, The Daemons of Chaos do not share power and have no gratitude.”
“They reward those who provide them service.”
“Yes, I’m sure the benefits you gained in your six months of being queen more than made up for your centuries of torment that followed.”
“But surely they hate the reptiles more than anyone—mutual foes!”
“No. The only thing more dangerous than being a Daemon’s foe is to be a Daemon’s ally. The Daemons will not recognize common cause with us. They never do.”
“Why are you turning down this opportunity?!?”
“I’ve learned the hard way not to ignore legends. I know hundreds of stories of individuals working with the forces of Chaos. Do you know how many came better for it?”
There was a pregnant pause. As angry as she was Kayishen was not going to take the bait and answer the rhetorical question.
“None of them.”
Kayishen attempted a different tack, flattery.
“But Lord, surely none of the others were as mighty or cunning as you yourself are…”
“That’s what the others said. I am cunning enough to not repeat their mistakes.”
Kayishen stared at the warding with ill-disguised longing. Renliss knew she wouldn’t give up on this.
“I don’t care if the prison holds or not. If the Daemons get out that will cause problems for Klodorex. That is good, but I don’t want to be anywhere near them when they do. If the Daemons want out, they will need someone else to liberate them. Come, it’s time to leave”
Part 1
Adrienne of Hill’s Bend
Tarell the farmer waited anxiously outside his home with his two daughters Hertha and Rachel. His wife was in the labor with their third child. This was a clearly a far longer trial for her to endure than her first two children’s birth or the miscarriage that occurred between them. Tarell prayed to Sigmar and every god he knew that his wife would make it through. More than that Tarell prayed by the end of the day he would finally have a son.
A son could inherit his lands and help him work in the fields more than a daughter could. The Village of Hill’s Bend was unfortunately equidistant from a large forest and the coastline. That meant raiders could come from the north via the sea or the south emerging from the untamed forests. A son could help defend the farm against raiders. A daughter was another liability he was responsible for protecting.
The cries of pain from his wife stopped and a baby’s cries were able to be heard. About fifteen minutes later the midwife came out of the hut and began vigorously blowing a whistle.
Damn it!
The local midwife traveled with a bell and a whistle to announce the birth of healthy babies. She rang the bell for boys and blew the whistle for girls.
For a shameful moment, Tarrell hoped his third daughter would not survive. He even contemplated arranging that himself. He couldn’t bring himself to kill his own flesh and blood though. Especially not after how heartbroken his wife was after her miscarriage before.
I guess I have three daughters and no sons. I really wish she’d stop blowing that whistle. Some births don’t deserve fanfare.
Huan-kai of the Western Spawning Pool
Lord Desserex the Slann sat in his throne seemingly oblivious to his surroundings (as Slann are wont to do). The Skink attendants had no idea whether he was asleep, meditating on the mysteries of the universe, taking his turn reinforcing the barriers against Chaos or astrally projecting his consciousness to telepathically debate with Slann from distant locations. The few ranking Skinks in the know knew that Desserex and the other Slann of the city were in conflict (if vigorous debate would qualify as conflict) with Lord Mazdamundi of Hexoatl and Lord Chuqxlata(Chook-slot-ta) of Itza. Klodorex and the elder cities were disagreeing with how to deal with the prodigal races. Most of the Slann were neutral by default (either they were half-comatose or otherwise indifferent to the younger races). Of the Slann who joined the Debate, the Slann of the four largest cities mostly sided with the two Second Generation Slann. The majority of the Slann of Lustria’s lesser temple cities sided with Klodorex as well as the entirety of Southlands Slann who were involved. Klodorex had the first mover advantage there since they were the city that reopened the channels of communication with the Southlands.
Lord Desserex was naturally very busy carrying out his grand plans and trying to win more Slann over to his way of thinking, so the attendants were always waiting to carry out any orders needed. When Desserex jerked out of his trance one morning and ordered “attend the western spawning pools.” The Skinks nearly tripped over themselves in their haste to obey.
A rare few spawnings were predicted outright on golden plaques. Many were divined based on plaques and the readings of Skink Priest astrologers. Others were complete surprises. Sometimes Slann or Skink Priests got a premonition providing a brief warning. Generally if the Slann got the premonition it was considered even more auspicious. A large delegation of Skinks assembled by the pool in the faint dawn light under the direction of the Skink priest, Xapatli (Za-pah-TLEE).
The delegation waited. The sun rose fully. Then they waited some more. The sun rose to its zenith and began to set. Still the pool did not stir with a spawning. It’s still mirror-like surface showed nothing more than the purple reflection of the dusk sky.
Xapatli began to wonder if he should dismiss some of the delegation or at least send some of them to get provisions. Even an active Slann such as Desserex had a different frame of reference for the passage of time than Skinks and other mortals possessed. What a Slann considers to be an immediate issue could still take days or weeks to manifest. Finally, a Skink’s voice broke the silence.
“Look! In the center of the pool.”
The pool rippled and a single smallish form rose and headed towards the water’s edge. No more shapes emerged and the water grew still again.
Spawnings of single individuals are rare. Saurus leaders nearly always emerge from whoever can survive centuries of battle and tend to gain their position by attrition and experience rather than gain their status from predestined births. It is rarely obvious at their spawnings which ones will go on to become a Scar Veteran or Oldbloods. Most Skink Chiefs and Priests emerge with a spawning of lesser Skinks, usually the first or the last to rise were considered signs of the Old Ones favor. A single Skink being spawned was pretty much always considered a sign of great favor.
Most of the attendant party applauded and cheered. The Skink priests and their scribes simply stood in silent awe and confusion. This was clearly a Chameleon Skink. A spawning of one Chameleon Skink was unheard of. Even the legendary Oxyotl had spawning brothers. He was legendary for his deeds, not his spawning. He emerged from the Chaos Wastes alive and heralding the end of a long hiatus of Chameleon Skink spawnings, but the circumstances of his own spawning were unremarkable to the point of being forgotten.
The ranking Skinks rushed to the newly spawned Skink to look for markings of the Old Ones. There were obviously no colorations to look for since the newly spawned Chameleon Skink had emerged as the purple color of the reflective dusk waters and was rapidly changing to a darker color in response to the setting sun and the fact that he was now on land. The Skinks present checked his scales for unusual patterns or shapes, trying to feel for the marks of the Old Ones that they could not see with their eyes.
Other Skinks were on hand to see if he uttered any sounds. The Saurian language is half instinctual and half learned. It’s not-unheard for newly spawned Skinks (or rarely Sauri) to say something not long after emerging. These utterances were taken very seriously and recorded for posterity. Often taken as an omen for the spawning’s future. The scribes present dutifully recorded the new Chameleon Skink’s first words.
“Sssstop touching me!”
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