To be fair, Bob and I (okay mostly me) made you talked you out of your original chapter five forcing you to go back to square one. And I've been slowing you down with the short story contest and force feeding you my WIPs
Meanwhile, Bob has pretty much abandoned perfecting everything and it taking the philosophy of just post it and correct it for the revised edition. And it is still taking weeks to post more chapters. Perhaps @TheDoctor could help us with the space time continuum stuff.
Perhaps I can... The time is a Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, stuff... If Bob haven't released new charapter in this universe, probably he did in our pocket universe... Or maybe not... Or maybe he will do tomorrow... I don't know it... The only one thing we can do is to exploit the explosion of the star HV 11423... The explosion will be powerful enough to create a tear in our dimension to the pocket universe... We will have 3 hour to go, ride the explosion of a star, take the new charapter and come back... I wish only that it isn't the pocket universe where Dalek are the Masters of the Universe.... Trust me I'm the Doctor...
Yeah Scalenex, it's all your fault. People, blame the zombie slink for my literary impotence! Seriously, if it wasn't for certain inputs I would probably be boring any readers with constant exposition Feedback: Necthez's personality (what you can glean from his limited perspective): yay/nay/ I don't know/ can you repeat the question? @TheDoctor you forgot to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow! That means you'll have to rewatch the new trailer at least a dozen more times!
The polarity of the neutron flow! I have completely forgot this... Only my Sonic Screwdriver can save me this time! I don't want to spend my next three hundred years to calculate the polarity of the neutron flow... Doctor
Chapter 6:Temple of the Predator Navigating the last few steps of the serpentine path, Xolsaa was met by the baying of Salamanders and the screech of Terradons. The air was thick with the stench of meat and filth of the beast pens. Xolsaa paused at the base of the steps, willing his senses to adapt to the smell before he moved into the temple proper. Situated on a prominentary which jutted out below the rest of the city, the Temple of Caxuatn was sprawled in repose like a titan’s carcass. A skeleton of arches and buttresses, its ribs and spines framed its bare buildings, keeping its inhabitants exposed to the weather year-round. Terradons flocked above it, jostling for roosting spots across its ribs. Sky marshals swooped through the flock on their own mounts – the graceful and sharp dives of one signalled him out as their leader: Tylx. Peering up through the throng, close to where his descent had begun, Xolsaa could glimpse the spires which marked the gates of the city; gold flickered through the flutter of wings. Resolving to spend his time in the temple taking shallow breaths, Xolsaa walked down the last stairway to the exposed atrium. Skink attendants criss-crossed his path, occasionally stealing glimpses at Chotec’s Chosen. Slabs of meat slung over shoulders, their dripping offerings weaved a carpet of red across the temple floor. With each step his claws peeled off a crust of dried blood and guano from the paving. Xolsaa tensed, attempting to resist any shudder of disgust and mirror the stoic demeanour of the other Saurus. The perimeter of the atrium was guarded by statues of the greatest and most infamous predators that stalked the Lustrian jungles. Ahead of Xolsaa stood the largest: an Alpha Carnosaur, stained coral over the ages, it lunged towards the entrance mouth agape. Approaching the monster, Xolsaa noticed its teeth and mouth were black, as if clogged by the long hairs of some warm-blooded prey. Hairs that moved, glistened, and shifted with the wind. A sudden gust caused it to rise in a loud buzz, briefly unveiling a collection of rotten offerings. Xolsaa involuntarily stuttered in his steps. Eyes turned to stare at the stumbling figure, the crests of Skinks flickering in amusement when they saw who it was. The Temple of the Unseen Predator was a rancid manifestation of the works of its patron and Xolsaa was beginning to regret his decision to start the investigation here. A basal roar came from deep within the temple, distracting the Skink attendants from their mirth and scattering them from the atrium. Their scampering was quickly replaced by a low rumble, a rumble which soon became a tremble; vibrations shook Xolsaa’s feet and compelled the loose filth to dance. Swarming out from under the arches came a mass of Saurus, all had bloodied teeth and all were roaring. The morning mass had ended. Whilst the Priesthood observed the Caxuatn sect as relatively minor, the Temple of Unseen Predator had a magnetism which tapped into the feral and carnal instincts of the populace. The Saurus held a more acute fervour for the faith than their hulking Kroxigor cousin and were inherently more impelled towards the visceral than the Skinks; Caxuatn fulfilled a spiritual need innate to all Saurus. Xolsaa held still as the incensed congregation flooded about him. As the throng began to leap up the narrow steps to the city a bottle-necked quickly formed, and Chotec’s Chosen soon found himself trapped and squashed within a viscous pool of scale and sinew. He had been quick enough to avoid the congregation’s slow exit from the temple complex, but not timely enough to escape it completely. The Saurus about him seemed not to care, content praising the Predator God with their primal howls. Xolsaa caught himself envying them. Only the Temple Guard remained quiet. Xolsaa felt a pang of sympathy for the honoured Saurus: the city’s isolated position meant that would-be raiders were few and far between. None had been routed from the city’s vale for over a century now. The guardians were duty-bound to a statuesque existence, observers to a predatory fury that the Gods denied them. The only Temple Guards to have spilt blood within recent memory were those that garrisoned the deep vaults of the Golden Pyramid where the oldest relics were kept, among them the most sacred plaques of the Old Ones. The contents of the plaques had been decreed worthy only for the eyes of the Gods and their chosen; considered the domain of the Slann, the knowledge they contained was thought to be greater than any Skink mind could handle and was dangerous if it misapplied. Thus any priest granted access to the vaults who stole a glimpse at the holy writings would quickly find their neck bisected by a dutiful Temple Guard. Many visitors had now adopted ceremonial masks which greatly curtailed their vision to prevent any unfortunate glimpses in the wrong direction. Gradually, the tide of Saurus began to ebb and Xolsaa began to make headway through the atrium, slowly dragging himself through the excited crowd and their spittled roars of praise. His arms pinned to his sides by the jostling mass of scale, Xolsaa could do nothing but cringe as spittle and bloody residue blotted his armour. Ahead three other Saurus had emerged from the central gateway, bedecked in bone taken from all manner of felled beasts. Their leader, a particularly large Saurus seemingly built solely from packs of dense muscle, wore a helm accessorised with a variety of jaw-bones: Xolsaa could hear their rattle as their owner conversed with his companions. The Auger of the Hunt, it was unnecessary for Xolsaa to address him in his investigation however ignoring him would flaunt the ambitious security protocol the smaller sects were want to have. The idea of drawing ire from some of the most respected Saurus in the city was an unappealing prospect. Xolsaa waded over to them and gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement, to which the three responded to with less-than enthusiastic responses. “Auger” Xolsaa said, addressing the leader “I trust the hunts have been fruitful”. The Saurus stared blankly back at for a moment before responding “Xolsaa, your visit is unanticipated” The Auger said expectantly. “Yes, the Halls of the Holy commissioned my visitation of the… more minor temple sects, as an appreciation of your continuing commitment to Grand High Priest Monotaal under Our Lord Axhlot”. “Of course they have. I assume you don’t need a guide for our small temple?” The Auger’s voice was betrayed little emotion, but Xolsaa caught his underlying tone of impatience. He ignored it. “No, I expect you’re quite busy in preparation for The Hunt” “Preparations have been cancelled: The Hunt has been postponed.” The Auger replied flatly. “Again?” Xolsaa said, surprised. The Hunt, a bi-annual foray into the Lustrian jungles where the participants competed to fell the largest and deadliest of beasts. It was the most important religious event of the year for the sect, not only for its spiritual significance in the worship of the Unseen Predator but also because it drew in the largest numbers of Saurus outside of battle. Xolsaa had participated in it many a time before he had been assigned to the Halls; a Juvenile Carnosaur had been his proudest quarry. Since the ascension of Monotaal The Hunt, once a month-long sojourn into the deep woods, had been truncated to a couple of days. Now it seemed unlikely to happen at all. The Augur made no response other than to flare his nostrils, a sign Xolsaa took as one of acquiescent displeasure. The Halls of the Holy had meddled often with the management of all the Temples, and Xolsaa’s ignorance obviously irritated the Saurus captain. “What is it you want, Xolsaa?” The Auger said, ticking his tongue against his fangs. Xolsaa checked himself and re-adopted his stoic demeanour; Saurus weren’t one for small-talk and his greater social ability often grated the rest of his kin. “Well, now that you mention it, I was hoping to catch our liaison whilst he did his rounds. He is here, yes?” “He is not. Our temple receives him usually in the midday. I would’ve expected the Halls to be aware of the movements of their priests, especially before making the journey down the steps to Caxuatn” The Auger turned on his heel before giving Xolsaa a chance to response, calling back over his shoulder “the Priesthood would know more about his works: the High Priest will still be busy so soon after mass but I’m sure the Beastmaster will grant you audience. Follow.” The Auger quickly strode back into Temple, churning up a pale cloud from the grimy floor. Xolsaa strecthed his calves to catch up, kicking up his own wake as he did so. The Saurus attempted to cover his disgust. “Be strong Chosen, our temple is not furnished with the comforts and embellishments of the Golden Pyramid”, The Auger said, noticing Xolsaa’s grimace “The Predator shirks all glamour to hunt in the real world”. “I say, I don’t suppose you have visited any of the Pyramid tournaments?” Xolsaa responded with an eager air to change the subject. The Auger snorted, “Crude and cosmetic, it’s no way to venerate the Predator. I avoid such superficial ceremony – the Gods are of the wild, of nature, and that’s where they should be praised”. “No, I didn’t expect that The Auger would visit such a…glamourous event-“ The Auger snorted again, “Indeed”. “- and yet it is odd how the victor came from, well, the Temple of Caxuatn. One would have thought such devout Saurus would share their master’s ideals. But I guess everyone needs their little bit of glamour”. The Auger caught himself snarling, and quickly covered it with a lick of his teeth. “You were the only victor there Xolsaa, don’t hide behind ceremony. Young spawnlings, they’ll learn” he grumbled “The Beastmaster will be by the Maw at this time”. Gesturing to his two companions to leave, he led Xolsaa deeper into the temple. They spent the rest of their journey in silence. The Maw, a title given to the large pit near the centre of the complex before the prominentary jutted the rest of the temple out above the canyons. Sacrifices that had not been eaten or desiccated under the Sun were tossed down into the pit. Many of the sect believed that there they were consumed, either by some voracious spirit or creature which haunted the caverns below. Xolsaa found such an idea unlikely, and as they approached the chamber the smell which emanated from the hole seemed confirmation enough that his assumptions were right. His eyes watered. Entering a large chamber open to the flocking Terradons above and decorated with their ordure. Dominating the chamber was the Maw, its black gullet hazy with the slow release of a warm, putrescent stench. About it crowds of priests, benefactors, and congregants were joined by visitors from different temples and shrines, occupations and creeds from throughout the city. All were caught by some magnetism, lost in deep reveries or muttering prayers. The darkness of the Maw married with their meditation. Shouting broke the silence: “what’s the point in having all these fancy ceremonial vessels if you just go and use measuring jugs? Looks like a bloody alchemy set. Sort it out and get your heads together, maybe you’ll make a thought between you. Caxuatn knows, that’ll be a miracle…” On the far side of the pit a couple of priests, their trappings signifying their lowly status, rushed to pluck a variety of ornaments from a shrine. Standing over them as an avatar of indignation was a Skink bedecked in bone armour of an alarming white. Loitering nearby was a large carmine Salamander, uncharcteriscally dark in colour it stretched out in the sunlight; Yama, the Beastmaster’s personal pet-cum-bodyguard. The Auger beckoned Xolsaa to follow and the two circumnavigated the Maw, weaving between jittering worshippers disturbed by the tirade. Some of the visitors awkwardly shuffled out of the chamber, leaving with a shot of dark looks directed at the shrine. Xolsaa felt a sharp sting in his nostrils as they neared, noticing that the Beastmaster’s slick armour was less the result of bleached bone but rather the result of aggregated guano. Xolsaa fought once more to conceal a grimace. The Beastmaster looked up, noticing their approach: “These days every new attendant acts like they’re Sotek’s Gift, yapping on about how they’ve broken records with their number of visions – chosen for great things apparently, and conveniently forgetting that every other Skink from every tiny temple is breaking records. I tell yeah, this Time of True Prophecy is an ache in the tail. Back when I was an attendant-in-training we we’re grateful even to polish a chalice. Nowadays they have heads full of Azyr – no grounding at all. Does my head in.” Catching Xolaa’s battle, he added “I hope my appearance doesn’t offend you, Gold Saurus; those Terradons know how to crap”. “The Halls wish to bestow their appreciation” The Auger said, saving Xolsaa from quickly formulating an awkward reply. “Oh, do they now? The bloody cheek, when was the last time they did that?” Beastmaster said. “Yes, in fact I was hoping to catch Tintua here. It would be easier to hear it from him...” Xolsaa said, rasping with shallow breaths “I had it on good authority from the Halls that he would be” he quickly added, resisting a derisive glance to The Auger. “I haven’t. But, I mean, he’s furtive sure, but what can you expect from someone in his position? And a priest no less. Feel almost bad for the critter.” “Furtive?” Xolsaa probed, hoping to gain something from this unpleasant visit. The Beastmaster merely shrugged. “Just on edge. As I said can’t blame him” he cocked his head, “why? Something the matter?” Xolsaa felt himself tensing – he despised the web of intrigue and politique the priests created, it was a web he could not navigate. “No, no...” he replied “the Halls are always keen to acquire feedback on their subordinates. How else would we know of any untoward behaviour?” The Beastmaster chuckled, “Untoward? You can tell you’re a Saurus of Chotec all right. Don’t think our Auger here has ever uttered as big a word.” The Auger stood in silence, a paragon of decorum and guardianship. “Nah” The Beastmaster continued, “I’ve not seen any weirdness from Tintua. That self-styled Karan priest hovering about the sacrificial pit mind, he’s an odd one”. A sudden flurry distracted them from the conversation as the worshipers all starting shuffled and bowing; a tall Skink Priest had walked into the chamber, his pathway aimed towards them “’’ere he comes, lured by the shiny. You can see his teeth from here”. Yama joined in his master’s derision, the great Salamander making a snow of his needled fangs. As the Skink Priest approached Xolsaa couldn’t help but noticed a certain brightness about him: his helm was threaded with gold and silver vines and glinted obtrusively amongst the crusted pillars. Xolsaa wondered how such a helm could be so bright with such filth about, he briefly suspected it may be a magical artefact until he noticed the faint traces of polish. Xolsaa suddenly realised why the Priest looked so odd: he was clean. “High Priest Konsuma”, The Auger bowed his head in respect. The Beastmaster remained still. Konsuma raised his hands in jubilation “what an honour, to have Chotec’s Chosen grace us with his presence. It has been long since the sect of Caxuatn has been visited by such an esteemed hunter: we still have the skull of the young Carnosaur mounted within the temple. I must show it to you.” “Thank-you, your Grace” Xolsaa replied with a small respectful nod. “Nonsense, it is all thanks to you, Xolsaa. It matters not whether the kill is by our hunters or outsiders, all prey belongs to the Predator”. “The Predator will have his feast”, the other two muttered in unison. “Although”, Konsuma leaned in slightly, “I can’t help but admit that your skills in The Hunt surpass even our mightiest” he ended with a chuckle. Xolsaa noticed The Auger flare his nostrils. Still leaning in, Konsuma’s voice thinned to a whisper, “I even hear the next tournament will set you against one those Grey Ones. Now that’ll be a fight for the Gods, eh? You’ll have yourself a challenge then.” Leaning back, Xolsaa quickly buried the questions forming by this new information, not the least of which was why neither the Halls nor the Temple of Chotec had alerted him. The information would have to be considered at a later date however, he could not show any signs of anxiety in front of a priest. “Your Grace, I appreciate your kind comments. I know there has been much time since any representative form the Halls has visited other than our liason. Speaking of –“ “Oh now, that isn’t correct” the High Priest interrupted. “Necthez has visited us a number of times, has he not?” turning to the Beastmaster, “I believe I saw you talking to him not three days ago”. “It must have slipped my mind” came a disinterested response. “Now, now” Konsuma turned back to Xolsaa, his helm winking “I’m sure there are more pressing matters you wish to attend to than paltry conversation on cleaning Salamander pens...” Beckoning to nearby attendants, he clasped Xolsaa’s arm in an effort to guide him away. “There are plenty of better sites around this temple that I am sure are more attuned to the tastes of Chotec, why our eyrie is far grander than any other in the city. Not bad for such a modest temple, I’m sure you’ll agree…” Slowly walking with the High Priest, Xolsaa began to despair that he would have to continue taking shallow breaths for much longer than anticipated.
Once again it was really great, while I don't understand were its going, that just makes me want MOAR!!!
Dormancy (1/2) Tintua sat, tense. Spekotoa paced in front of him, unintelligible prayers lifting from his lips. After what felt like an age the wizened priest turned to face him. "It is time," he spoke softly. "Close your eyes: the gods await you" Tintua did as he was bidden. First there was the familiar darkness; the comfortable shield of sleep. Slowly and softly, like the gradual break of dawn, colours bloomed. Bloods and florals and pastels rose in waves, giving way to sharp burst of light and streaks of shadow. Then something hit him hard in the forehead and the phantasmagoric display ended. Lord Xhaltan opened his eyes. "What a weird dream."
Dormancy (2/2) I'm only joking! I was just skimming this thread to recollect my narrative and it made me sad about its inactivity. However, big news, the next chapter is actually forthcoming! Hopefully i'll be able to resurrect the other semi-written chapters in the process.
Well I'm on the edge of my seat! Haha! Cheeky refernces and names. Funny and interesting characters. A fleshed out city and society! You got a lot accomplished in 6 chapters! Can't wait for more!
Chapter 7: Transcendence Tintua, sipping on the floral chai once more, decided he would give up anticipating the future. No matter how he stirred the prophetic powers of Azyr, the magical wind gifted little foresight. The many moments which threaded his future frayed too quickly for any practical measure. The future had become the blurred face of his own mental crisis. Instead Tintua reflected on the events that had led him to his current subterfuge. His first visit to the Golden Citadel had been a task handed to him under the pretense of a fragile diplomatic mission; however it was clear that the priesthood of the Capital, Itza, had only burdened him with such a long journey so as to keep him busy. Young priests thirsty for power were common in the capital and often flocked to the temple elders in eager displays of commitment. In an effort to cull the keen crowds the senior members often dealt out laborious tasks out to their students. Tintua was hardly surprised at being given such a task: disputes over access to academic doctrine were frequent and often only as dramatic as the egos involved. The journey, however, was far beyond his usual realm of comfort: the humid intimacy of the jungle had been his only respite from Itza's hard mantel of ambition. The ice-worn peaks and slumbering volcanoes which cradled the Citadel offered little attraction. He could pinpoint the moment his mind had begun to change: far along the trail Tintua had turned back, earnest for a final glimpse the peaks of monolithic temples that had haunted the horizon. Yet he found for the first time he was looking down at the familiar metropolis; looking down at the sky. Clouds which billowed from the mountains yawning canyons and over the vast forest eventually cast the entire capital in shadow; clouds that had barely touched his ankles. The city's froth of ceremony which poorly concealed the bedrock of rivalry suddenly eased its grip. When he began his placement in the Golden Citadel he found isolation and anonymity. Its clear mountainous air was a far cry from the intimate and frantic setting of the Itza. Leaving the Citadel Tintua’s final glimpse of the glinting Golden Pyramid promised something rare and untreasured by his brothers back home. Upon returning to Itza his request to transfer had come unexpected to his temple administrators. However, as expected, Itza’s priesthood had little qualms with letting an unimportant priest leave their bustling flock on an ostensive zealous mission. If Tintua's ambition was fruitful then the priesthood would’ve serve the gods well, if Tintua failed then, well, one less upstart apprentice to deal with. He would be someone else’s problem now. Since moving here Tintua had noticed that the isolation of the Citadel seemed to be a prime contributor to many events which the core temple-cites would have considered distasteful, and Tintua’s position as liaison had made him privy to more than most. News traveled slowly through the mountains however, and was often vetted under the guise of objectivity in the sight of the gods. Those matters of urgency sent by terradon were confined to guided and guarded paths so as to expediate their message, anything else crawled through the mountains and was often met in the larger cities as garbled gossip. The Slann Mage-Priests could ignore the physical boundaries: their great minds acting a psychic relays to their brethren throughout the continent. However they acted in their own good time and, even under Spekatoa’s tutelage, Tintua had seen none conscious during his role as liaison. As such Tintua had found that the Citadel had developed a more tangential approach when it came to following the will of their lost gods. Tintua ended his reverie with a swift gulp, a silent honorific to the naive dreams of his past self. This evening Huikihuaka’s chamber was dark and the Temple of Kara silent throughout. The Karan High Priest had hunched down opposite him: the ritual was almost ready to begin. With a few whistling grunts the wizened Skink shakily placed an old lantern in-between them. It was of odd design: ivory curls and thorny embellishments which seemed to serve no purpose, not even one which would celebrate the Gods – the assumption Tintua usually made if he couldn’t understand the purpose of an architecture. “Another gift of Kara?” Tintua hazarded. A confirmative whistle responded, Huikihuaka was uncharacteristically focused as he fumbled with the lantern’s innards. Tintua almost hadn’t come, but the will of the gods could not be resisted no matter how ambiguous the deity in question was. Even when he stood in the familiar main chamber of the Temple of Kara, exchanging the all-to-familiar verse that befitted his role as liaison, his feet itched him to leave. Turn away. Run. Shapok, ever efficient and keen to wax his misgivings of the temple’s leadership, had quickly found him and ushered him up to the chamber. Now the doors to Huikihuaka’s chamber were sealed for the ritual, both alone in the dull light. Tintua had little to do but sip his spiced brew and contemplate the ostensive blessing he was supposed to be invoking that night. “What exactly is the nature of Kara’s gift?” “Saphery” Huikihuaka said, his bulging eyes focused on his delicate operation. “Yes, the High Magic - I know…” Tintua hesitated. “But…I feel, I think there’s more to it than that, no?” Huikihuaka snorted. “I mean…” Tintua continued, “I feel almost, well, detached. Or at least I think things are different. Bu they’re not at the same time. I can’t explain.” Huikihuaka glanced up briefly. “Ehkt, a major flaw for a liaison. You have whimsy.” Tintua froze, initially thinking he’d been diagnosed with some curse or illness. He ventured further: “whimsy?” Huikihuaka tutted: “Whim. It’s a blessing which alienates us from the world – to bring the lesser races under our wing we must first step out from the order we know so well.” Tintua sat staring at the swirling hot liquid delicately held in his palms. Reaching a conclusion, he met Huikihuaka’s eyes: “You’re a nutter.” For a moment the wizened Skink said nothing, meeting Tintua’s eyes with his own bulbous stare. Then he broke out laughing. He rocked back, chest heaving, breath rattling hard against his throat. His laughter became a wheezing cough. Somewhat concerned, Tintua leaned forward, weighing the decision whether the old Skink needed a firm pat on the back. A sudden movement chose an answer for him. Recoiling backwards, hot water sloshing everywhere, Tintua instinctively grabbed his now sore head. “Ow! Why did you- “ “Ehkt, young Skink insults the gods. Yes, yes he does. This is a divine gift from Kara, to say otherwise be heresy.” Heresy. Though Tintua found the idea that he was doing right by the god comforting, the underhand nature of the ritual, their meetings, and the nature of the blessing itself left a hard lump in his stomach. “Alright, sorry...” Tintua awkwardly pushed himself back, carefully balancing what little was left of the infusion in the cup. “Ehkt, no respect. Young ‘uns…” Huikihuaka’s grumbling faded into an internal soliloquy. Reflecting on what the Karan priest had said, Tintua gingerly leant forward. “But, whim. Is this the only other aspect of…of the gift? High Magic is an amazing boon, don’t get me wrong – no other Skink in history, at least that I know of - I mean. I’ll cut to the chase: I don’t understand. How is whim a weapon against Chaos?” “I don’t pretend to know the mind of Kara.” Tintua bit his tongue. Questioning the will of the gods was dangerous enough in public; derided or not, he needed to remind himself that Huikihauka was a senior member of the priesthood. Huikihuaka continued: “the emotional spectrum is a difficult thing: it makes the lesser races and undoes them. These vagaries also fuel the whims of the Dark Gods. In there, perhaps, we may find the answer.” Tintua sat back. A heavy weight sat on his shoulders. He felt as he had as a young apprentice in the temples of the capital: he didn’t understand, but the High Priest did and he should trust in him. The machinations of the heavens needed time and experience to fully understand, and Huikihuaka was the sect leader for Kara after all. A shrill echo jolted Tintua. Huikhuaka had closed the lamp – from within came a warm glow, gently throbbing in the dull light of the chamber. “Right. Good good. We are ready, now the final part.” Huikhuaka fumbled with the many talismans which jangled about his neck. Eventually he plucked one: a small crystal vial. Teasing at one end he gently pulled out a long, thin rod. On its tip gleamed a droplet of clear liquid. “Now then, open your eyes, Tintua.” Tintua gripped his knees. “What is it?” “Distilled mucus of the Itxi grub. Lovely stuff. Don’t worry - the Slann may covet the power the larvae bestows, but they care little for the grub’s excretions. They have their own potency however, beyond their smelliness, and its powers of magnification are needed. Ehkt.” Somewhat satisfied, Tintua tilted his head back and peeled back both sets of eyelids. With a dart Huikhuaka tapped a droplet into both eyes. In an instant his eyes began to burn furiously, as if they had been massaged with spices by an over-zealous cook. He blinked back the tears. As his vision became less teary he saw that Huikihuaka had sat down opposite, tears also streaming from his eyes. He held is palm out towards Tintua with fingers splayed open. “Place your hand against mine.” Tintua did so, the lamp beneath their hands made his hands tingle. Huikhuaka fumbled once more with his weave of talismens, and gingerly pulled one up by its string. He thrust it towards Tintua: an ivory-coloured shard, much like his own. “Listen, listen: when I say you must remove it. Do so, channel Saphery; feel the winds. Then we will enter the unseen realm. This time you’ll be ready. This time the Chaos Moon won’t set you a fever. Just remember: the god’s test you. This other world, it is a scab on the waking world – here, more than anywhere else, the arcane threat of Chaos looms. Do nothing that could invoke the attention of the ruinous powers. Always think on the adage: anger invokes Khorne, hope invokes Tzeentch, joy invokes Slaanesh, despair invokes Nurgle, egoism invokes the Horned Rat, betrayal invokes Malal, greed invokes Hashut…” Tintua nodded, his stomach turning as Huikihuaka named the dark powers. Though the ancient temple-cities had long remained stalwart against the acolytes of Chaos such references raised the hackles of many a citizen. Tintua pulled his own shard up about his neck, folding down his crest to let it loop over. “Remember Tintua, you owe a debt to Kara: you were given a gift, but something must be paid in return. Now is the time to fulfill your part in the contract.” As the shard dug into his palm Tintua felt keenly aware that he still had no idea how he was supposed to fulfill this contract with the god. Trust the High Priest, he reminded himself. He focused back on eyeing Huikihuaka’s own ginger movements. As the High Priest let his the shard fall from his hand, Tintua did the same. Suddenly unanchored by the talisemn the rush of magic returned. His head span. His heart squeezed. The chamber whirled. He focused his mind, grasping at the winds as he had learnt to do with Azyr. Their power broke upon him like a wave upon sand, pushing through the grains of his mind in burning rivulets. He felt the familiar washes of Azyr, but the waves of power kept pouring into him. Each of the eight winds wrestled each other in vortices which railed against every cell of his body. It was too much: his body shook, his breath became taught. As his head fell heavy the room began to fade about him until only the orange glow of the lamp remained, throbbing gently in the darkness.
It is like a drug,isn't it? That Slanputin spiced chai. I feel like I am tantalisingly close to finding something out - so I am keen for the next instalment too. (Hoping it isn't a point of view change or an extended intro for another character)
Actually I love the new characters! It builds a richer tapestry that makes the main plot all the more satisfying. It's all about delaying of gratification when it comes to Tintua's story...the constant tension of being on the brink of a reveal...the slow building of suspense and horror...reminds me of another story I read recently... heh heh... I'm talking about game of thrones. Definitely game of thrones.