Dawn. A hollow expression for those of the first. Unrelenting days and nights turn to months, years, centuries… a millennia. It matters not for the inexorable avengers of the Great plan, a great plan that will be forced into fruition by the hand of the righteous, by hand of the timeless…
Fickle rays of light bleached through the burnt roof splattering the mud-coated floor in a wash of dawn glow. This 'floor' however was misidentified, being rather a filth, earth encrusted patch of scales, scales owned by a skink, a priest by the name of Tikxoltiq in fact.
It wasn’t this feeling of warmth, the kind that soaks deep into your limbs and body nor even the thick, humid air that acted as if it were its own entity hell-bent on making breathing a difficult task but rather something else that awoke this particular priest.
It was rather the sound of uneven commotion which took the form of a rapid slur of skink chitters and clicks and the rumble of eager footsteps emanating from the plaza.
Silence.. A singular voice speaking out in almost soothing singular sentences followed once again by an earthquake of movement and chatter, amongst such chatter, the word “Hual”, Speak of the silvered one, of its city, speak of “Tlaxtlan.”
Groggy Tik’s mind gently pulsed to the beat of his calm, collected heart as the skink was nudged out of sleep by the sounds and uproar, the kind that would draw in skinks and kroxigors from across the camp, and that it did.
Whilst the priest's eyes watered and stung quickly adjusting to the bright light another handful of beast handlers ambled by toward the central plaza now made even more spacious from the distinct lack of several huts. Several huts which had suffered doom at the hand of the Oloq. An episode of rage unforgotten by Chotec’s anger which now peaked out from the horizon almost mocking night as it slowly advanced to banish the sky of this darkness once more.
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Meanwhile, Hours before Xolek stirred from the clutches of slumber as if his soul was once more under siege. Shivering the oracle awoke to find himself amidst several rows of lined beds, many of which were inhabited by other wounded skinks, Xlauax amongst them.
As the oracle’s vision adjusted to the almost glaring moonlight that previously poured through the chamber entrance he felt as if he were being watched. Not by some presence, Some being… But rather by himself, by a reflection of his own soul. Whispers of moonlight slithered across the stone walls as if possessed by a serpentine intent one that sought him out. No. Sought out the scale upon which he now felt within his hand. It had been in his hand the whole time, only noticing it now…
It was cold to the touch, freezing. Waves of pure ice pulsed up his hand and arm covering obsidian scales in a frosty rime that seemed to almost amplify the strange, faint markings laid bare upon his skin into glowing symbols, their light fueled only by the oracles' will…
Sitting up Xolek’s warmth escaped out of his breaths in the form of a coiling mist whilst his eyes we’re now able to scan the room. Flicker. Lights dimmed, extinguished. The now dark chamber surrounding him was as it always had been as too was both his skin and scale.
Nothing had changed other than the fact he and several other patients had been carefully moved to more rest-suited beds above the many stone slabs, some still occupied which dotted the room, One of which Zuztle leaned up against in a deep sleep.
Forced up at such an early hour Xolek was forced to endure several more hours of patient waiting and the silent torment of not being able to drop back off before the sun finally rose and with it so did the many other skinks which now busied themselves with various tasks. Most, however, could to pick up on a certain buzz coming from up above in the camp, one that attracted the skinks in droves.
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As the oracle, priest and chameleon awoke Both kroxigors did the same. Quas, Who had slept in his usual spot beside his kitchen, or.. what was his kitchen...
Centralised within the commotion Quas could make out the voices of fellow skinks and footsteps. surrounded in the scent of apprehension but also excitement the kroxigor was forced into alertness, a state which eroded when Quas felt the weight of his own full stomach.