Army Fluff The third dawn (The Death Of Lord Kroak)

[Rikard]

Took forever, still haven't finished it this evening as it's building on me, but should have more written soon.

Perspective.
What does one make of a world in a day? What of two days, a week, a month, a year, a life time? Perhaps the real question should be, what does one make of a new world, when you outlive the last? Change is hard, the long and more familiar one becomes with the way of things, the harder it is accept them when change finally comes.

For change, like the rise and fall of the tide is inevitable, for better or worse and one must adapt with it, or fall beneath it.

Many moons have now passed since the survivors of the old world found themselves in their new home and though they are without the guidance of the Slann, this bright new world could well be beyond even their understanding, so little makes sense, brief mentions of beings, places, times and even the Old Ones, once so scarce, are marked clearly for all who would look upon it in this place. It as though one were to know nothing but darkness, before suddenly seeing the entirety of the universe from beginning to end.

The loss of leadership is hard on all, Gor-rok remains missing, having vanished into the jungles just days after arrival, Nakai scant moments after arrival, though few fear for the ancient Kroxigor, such is his nature and might that any terror in these new lands will be sorely pressed to kill him. Kroq-Gar abandoned his carnosaur softly after arrival and unlike the other saurus, has vanished into the city and has not been seen since. Talliess of other surviving leaders, warriors and figures of import remain incomplete, as contradictory information is rife.


Tehenhauin spends more time alone, exploring this vast metropolises of mathematically shaped precision and though he has cause to be awed by it’s splendour, he cannot shake off the sense of a gathering dread, or his own fear. For fear is what many are having to come to terms with, fear of the unknown, fear of questions that continue to remain un-answered, fear from without and perhaps worst of all, fear from within. Tensions rise as saurus grow restless and increasingly aggressive, often pitting themselves against one another to curb their nature born savagery, there is little else one can do, when the very structure of your being is war.

Tehenhauin along with many other skinks therefore take it upon themselves to explore this new home in a desperate hope that it may reveal something, anything that might produce some answers, or at the very least, something to pacify the growing hostility within the saurus. It has been four days since he re-entered the city, exploring the smaller of the ziggurats, as some of the larger pyramids could take a group of skink priests and artisans a week at least to thoroughly search. A group of fifty individuals still remain within Omeyocan, confused and unable to agree on what the building and the symbols represent.

Tehenhauin, moves up the steps to the building, though he does not intend to interrupt their pondering, as another wonder is the focus of his interest today, a great spawning pool some seven hundred steps above the street level, but barely a third of the way to the great portal of Omeyocan. Some of the younger artisans quickly dubbed it “The World pond” given it’s size, a name that was snorted at by the priests and older artisans, though Tehenhauin sees accidental merit in this name. When viewed from one of the twin neighbour pyramids, the surface appears to map out the shape of the continents of the old world long ago, indeed, if one were to stare long enough it becomes easy to spy out the familiar shapes of the Southlands, Lustria, Ulthan and many others. Whether this is by design, or a tricky conceived in the mind of the viewer is but one of many things that still remains unknown, as the pattern changes the when looked at anew, showing the old world as it was originally before the fall and even in an unfamiliar pattern, perhaps the intended design of the Old Ones. Sometimes, it shows nothing at all, such as today and Tehenhauin feels the loss of so much deeper now than ever.

 

[spawning of Bob]

Hooray! There is more ! I am still confused!

The tension is on a very nice slow build. Don't rush, but I will be even more excited when things start to happen.

 

[Rikard]

Hooray! There is more ! I am still confused!

The tension is on a very nice slow build. Don't rush, but I will be even more excited when things start to happen.

Oh there's loads to come!
It's kind of a tricky situation for me as I'm not sure how to go about it.

Do I write a huge chunk and release it in one (which would take a while), or snippets at a time (quicker and easier, but will keep people confused for much longer).

 

[Bowser]

I am inclined to say I want more now! But in the long run I prefer the bigger chunks, or chapters if you will.

 

[Rikard]

Simplicity.

“A world without chaos? Such a thing would be both wondrous and terrible, we’ve already known that world and it’s like will not be seen again, such a world breeds complacency, which in turn dulls our minds and muddies the clarity of purpose itself. It is only against adversity that we are permitted to excel beyond limits we do not perceive possible, only when we are forced to give up everything, mind, body, spirit to save others, to preserve what light remains, that we know what it really means to be selfless. Good, bad, right, wrong, light, darkness? Such concepts are crudely simplistic, yet both are fundamentally the same, one cannot exist without the other. Any action can be called “good” when viewed for the perspective of he who swings the blade, but what of he, on whom the blade falls?

I say this, from experience if nothing else, only change is truly neutral, until it is shaped by those who hold it, to their own ends. You may not accept or like change, but change is here, do you embrace it, cast it aside, or worse yet, do you let it pass you by?

Remember my words Lord, not even we are free from our own chaos.”

- Attributed by his eminence mage lord Te-ehniapo, mage priest of the 4th spawning to his master, the mighty Mage Lord Adohi-Tehga during the debate regarding the recognition of the Skink god Sotek and his prophet Tehenhauin.

Historian's note:
Though Te-ehniapo was the youngest and easily the most brash of the fourth generation of Slann, in times of debate he possessed a skill for logic and surprising wisdom that often ended many an argument and saved the old world from near cataclysm on more than one occasion. Unlike his spawning brothers, he even possessed a slightly dry sense of humour (or as close to a sense of humour a Slann could muster), he also held something verging close to fondness for the younger races, he will be greatly missed.



Tehenhauin uses the his vantage and the relative silent to think, trying to distract himself from the near crippling doubt and constant puzzlement. He thinks back to the records of the lost, heroes, commanders, chieftains, priests and leaders who are unaccounted for, or worse, simply did not make it. Many more have been found alive and well, scattered across this new land, Kroc, the saurian with a exceptionally powerful set of jaws, the grizzled veteran temple guard, Lotl, Inxi-Huinzi and his massive horned one. Many still remain missing, such as Oxayotl, the chameleon skink, though precious few feel any kind of loss at his absence. It is simply not possible for any to spend so long in the realm of chaos and return without taint. The Slann however kept him safe, so he couldn’t have been truly tainted could he?

The skink had done the remarkable on many occasions, killing mighty warlords of invading armies, unholy creatures of the night, even daemon princes, yet always the same end result, he would vanish into the jungles again, always on the move, always…planning something, many times it appeared he knew more about the enemy then was comfortable, locations, directions, numbers, vulnerable targets. Despite himself, Tehenhauin allowed a trace of melancholy to wash over him, the little skink and weathered so much, lost his home, his master, everything, but still he fought on, always moving, never resting, never seeking or asking for praise, lost in a world that did not want him.

The sun gently passes in the sky, slowly making his way across the heavens, as the stars cautiously make their appearance, first by ones and twos, then once they are sure their younger brother has gone, in hundreds and thousands. Tehenhauin gazes down at the great pool as it is bathed in star light and sees for the first time something long absent in those lesser cousins from Lustria. This pool shimmers back at the stars, as though sharing a conversation, it winks here and there at the many points of light with brilliant little sparkles of it’s own. To Tehenhauin it appears as though the great pool is lit from below with many thousands of it’s own lights…Could it be? Was this bastion of the Old Ones more than a refugee, is it possible that this very spawning pool was meant to usher in new Slann? His heart sinks as quickly as it was lifted, even if that were it’s purpose, how could this be done? Only the Old ones held such power, only the masters could…

Wait…

What is that?…

That symbol there, showing now for the first time…

Right in the centre of the pool.


Tehenhauin looks keenly, leaning forward as if to will his gaze onwards, out of his body and down to the great pool itself. How had he, no, how had all the other priests and scouts missed this magnificent symbol before? He knew it to be no trick of the light, even now it glowed all the brighter, a deep azure that couldn’t be anything resembling a reflection. The symbol…. he had seen it before, but only at the city of Hexoatl. He paused, his eyes closed, trying to bring back his fading memories of that place and before he knew exactly why, he uttered it aloud and at the top of this voice.

Quango….

He remembered seeing the egg on several occasions, it was a beauteous thing even without it’s ornate container, but when viewed through the eyes of magic…the raw power it gave off. He had wondered about it much back then, but had not been bold enough to ask Lord Mazdamundi about it and now just like so many other things, it was lost.

A patch of night suddenly moved next to him and colours shifted into greens and oranges. Tehenhauin practically squarks in alarm, but the face that stared back did so implacably, each eye rotating slowly, independently, as they focused on the prophet of sotek. It was Oxayotl, the little skink had survived even the destruction of the world. The Chameleon said nothing, but reach for his bandolier, carefully drawing out a large object from amongst his gords of poison, it was wrapped delicately in dried leaves; the skink handed it to Tehenhauin without a sound, before slowly his skin changed coloured again and the master poisoner was gone.

Tehenhauin peeled back one leaf, then a second before letting out another hiss of excitement at the object in his hands, there was no mistaking it and for the first time in a very long time, the prophet of Sotek felt a bright glimmer of hope, it appeared that not all had been lost…



The night wore on, soon the stars retreated, feeling the brilliance of their younger brother as he once again rose from the horizon. Tehenhauin had not moved all night, he had only stared down at the great spawning pool, looking very much like the Slann, as though mind had left body and he soared on astral winds to converge with long lost masters. Though had he known of two events happening even now, he would rushed back as fast as his legs could carry him.

Far off in the barrios, the unease within the saurus had gained a new layer of savagery as blood now splattered across stones as one of the many senseless duels escalates.

Within the great pyramid of Omeyocan however, things are much worse, cries of amazement, wonder, even joy quickly turned sour. What at first seemed like a blessing now appears to be a curse that should not have been disturbed. The blank position marked out for an Old One, in the room's centre now has a name carved on it's surface. Fierce chirping and terrified snapping calls break out between the skinks as the name of the final Old One has been successfully translated and it is a name they wish they had not seen, the name of Xolotl…

Though their hissing and snapping growls are made in fear and agitation, not one of them knows why, only that the utterance of that name was punishable by death and all records of this being’s existence destroyed, even before the fall or the disappearance of the old ones. Had they known why, then their fear would have escalated, for he is The Dark, the banished, estranged older brother of the old one Tepok. Chaos by it’s very nature is destructive, both to itself and everything it touches, but Xolotl… as Te-ehniapo stated many long centuries ago, good and bad are two halves of one whole, where one is found, so to is the other.

Chaos was never the opposing force of the old ones, merely they’re undoing, but to put it simply, if the Old Ones represent light, then Xolotl was most certainly the darkness within.

 

[Bowser]

Wow! This is brilliant! A lot of fun to read, and an engrossing story. Left me wanting more!

 

[Rikard]

Well, what do I say without giving too much away?

First off thank you! (doing ok so far avoiding those spoilers).
Secondly, I have very bare descriptions for places I mentioned (poll) and others I haven't even covered yet, so I've still got those to do, they're all very different from one another and perhaps answer a few other questions.
There is a load more to come, more answers, more characters (some of who should/are dead, but well...the less said on that the better without spoiling things).
- Xolotl is actually an Aztec god of lightning and death, one thing that has bugged me is the whole "chaos bad, m'kay" thing, it's good as an excuse here and there but using it all the time, meh, not so much. His mention and possible influence (not sure, haven't decided yet, loads of different and interesting ways in which I can take this), seem like an nice addition, avoids the whole Orc savage fury stuff.

It's also tied into a character I was thinking of sculpting (not named, doesn't exist, no artwork).

 

[Bowser]

Forgot everything you said before and after character...sculpting. I want that now. You don't need sleep right?

 

[Bowser]

Seriously though the writing is great and you should definitely keep this story going!

 

[spawning of Bob]

There are no rules, and even memory is subject to change, to reinterpretation.

Where is meaning now? Where is reason? That which gave comfort and warmth becomes a raging fire, and they who were banished give a welcome.

And, you know, ... stuff.

I think I will just leave it to you. Carry on.

 

[Rikard]

There are no rules, and even memory is subject to change, to reinterpretation.

Where is meaning now? Where is reason? That which gave comfort and warmth becomes a raging fire, and they who were banished give a welcome.

And, you know, ... stuff.

I think I will just leave it to you. Carry on.

I'm confused, is that approval, disapproval, have I contradicted myself, or something else? It's been a long day.

 

[spawning of Bob]

A homage (and approval)

 

[Rikard]

I will need to proof read this tomorrow, I'm sure there's tons of typos, but it's been long overdue.


Of Leadership.

"I fear the young ones will never endure the storm of chaos, for they are just as the madness they claim to oppose, they are incapable of seeing leadership for the sacrifice it is. Readily they seek power for their own ends and without pausing to wonder if they are capable of holding on to it. In order to lead, one must be exemplary in all things, to be useful, one must serve a purpose, to be an example, one must possess the will to continue when others give up, to be an inspiration, one must command the determination to succeed when failure is expected, to be a hero, one needs the presence that makes others believe that they too can be mighty.

Courage, will, determination, selflessness, conviction, a fraction of the virtues required. Leadership requires one to be the epitome of all and that is admirable and then to trample on them. Speak not to me of the young ones petty squabbles for dominance, they do not possess it and I fear that at the very end, it will be that same selfish desire that will be this world’s un-doing, not chaos."

- Mage Lord Xlept.


It was a plain beyond imagining, something that existed in no dimensional location, yet superseded them all, it was certainly not meant for mortals and existed forever beyond their reach. Into this twilight realm came a light, a spirit form, a being who had sundered his own spirit from it’s flesh, in order to make this climb. It had done so many times in the past and with a flawless ease, yet despite the trifling amount of concentration it took, the being was aware that it had become more difficult than in previous centuries.

Presently it ascended to the apex of it’s ascent and waited patiently, bringing the glow of light to the nether-darkness that surrounded it and dimly illuminating a great landmass below, or the not quite substantial landmass, for it was both there and not there. After some time other similar orbs of radiance could be glimpsed making their way out of the oily void, slow and ponderous as though each were now the bearer of a terrible burden. One by one they arrived, though if there were any communication between them, it was perhaps what each could read off the other, if such things were even possible.

It was only when the last reached it’s position did the meeting officially come to order.

“Is this all that is left, only five?” said the first.

Chilly silence hung in the space below one of the others spoke.

“Lord Chalucan passed trying to make this ascent, his body was already wounded beyond all recovery”

Another pause.

“What of the first?” said another.

“They are gone” said the lead being. “Their light extinguished mere moments after the fall”

“Not all” said another, “The master expired not two cycles previously, we owe the survival of the first city to his sacrifice.”

“Survival?” said the fifth “Over two thirds of the cities are lost, the old ones are forever gone, the first spawning dead, the flow of magic reduced to a trickle, how is this survival? We delay the inevitable by crippling ourselves, instead of dying quickly, we have sentenced the world to sicken over many long years, a slow doom traded for a quick one is no adequate compromise.”

“Hush!” said the first. “We have lost much, but we still live, the world STILL lives, we cannot give up on it so easily.”

“This world will end, sooner or later without the return of the old ones and they will not come back.”

“Are you so prone to desperation?” asked the second.

“You know I speak what we are all aware of, the world has been covered with a fine layer of raw, solid magic. Even now it’s affects are taking root and generations of corruption will follow, our own pools have been rendered useless from this taint, there can be no more Slann, with or without the old ones, we are a doomed race.”

“They may still return” said the first, interrupting before an argument could start. Only the masters ever had direct communion with them and only the masters were ever fully aware of the powers they commanded.”

“Caution spawn sibling” said the third again “You sound all too eager to place hope in speculation.”



“SILENCE”



The word was not shouted, it didn’t need to be, the bold voiced rolled out over the immaterial like wave, instantly quelling any dissent. A sixth apparition appeared in the centre of the five, much larger and far brighter than the others.

“My lord” said the first reverently.

“We have lost much, but we live, as do the younger races, for now, that is enough.” It said, driving home the point and stopping the argument from re-surfacing.

“This world has suffered much, the damage inflicted will not heal until the gates themselves are sealed and that is something that lies far beyond mortal power.” It appeared to sigh before continuing “Indeed, it is beyond ours too, only the old ones can perform such a task and we are severed from them. I do not know if they will ever intend to return, or if they can, I do not know if they still live, such was the speed of their departure that many things are possible.”

“Then what can we do, beyond guard a fort with no walls?” asked the third.

“Make new ones” said the sixth apparition. “I do not know of the full power the old ones possessed, but I am here, my body lies broken, scattered over my own pyramid, but I fight own, I have banished more daemons in death then I ever did in life and I am not an old one, I was merely instructed by them. I lack divinity, but I am still here and I will remain here until they return, or I am called to new purpose. For such is the skill of the student, that one should look to the master, many things are possible and so until their return or the breaking of this world, I will continue as I have before and follow the Old one's plan.”

“As will I” said the first.

“And I” said the second.

In quick unison did the last three voice their agreement, for none of them doubted the sixth now they had seen him.

There was a long pause, the sixth apparition had not moved, nor given any indication the meeting was finished.

“I must speak to you all now on matters of a different nature” it said at length, as though hesitant to do so.

None of the others spoke, all instinctively knowing that this was not for dramatic effect, or questions, but because the master was struggling with the burden of remaining quiet to uphold the old one’s wishes, or to break terrible oaths in order to safeguard an already doubtful future.

“Must speak with you all of an Old one, one whose fate is not shrouded in mystery, he is very much alive.”

The individual lights seemed to brighten a little as though their prayers were already answered.

“I speak of the Dark.” said the sixth figure, the atmosphere in this estranged realm becoming colder, if such a thing were possible.

“Your peers schooled each of you in magic and of the Old ones themselves, but none of them have ever spoken the name of the one who was cast out, the oldest old one, the first, Xolotl.”



In the material realm the night had grown angry, as lightning stabbed furiously at the landscape and thunder crashed amongst the clouds, a strange orb glowed eerily, a thing of pure magic shielding horrific bent and twisted daemonic shapes from the magically thin air. A horrid squat, bird like thing, dragged itself on disgusting appendages towards an old, crumbling spawning pool. it gurgled and gibbered in petty amusement as it advanced on the sacred water, clearly pleased at the act of vandalism it was about to commit, preparing to spill it’s foul speed and chaotic taint into this pool, forever corrupting it. Suddenly it paused, something wasn’t right, no, something was definitely not right, in fact something was terribly wrong!

The brackish waters burst apart like exploding lava and a monstrously dark shape emerged like a dread titan, darker than the souls of mortals and far crueler, the weight of cold malevolence and unshackled destruction beat down on the demons; each one feeling it’s grip on reality weaken just at the sight of it and in that one, terrible moment each were introduced to a previously alien emotion, terror.



“All those who bear his mark have been annihilated before their presence was noticed, for even the old ones feared what this mark may bring, or the terrors his avatars will unleash. You were all not made aware of his existence, or these exterminations and so this must continue, if the old ones are to return. His name must be removed wherever it is found, those marked, destroyed, for in him there exists a greater danger than chaos.

At once the silence was broken as each could contain his doubts and questions no longer and the sixth become besieged with questions and doubt.

“Silence!”

“I have broken terrible oaths telling you of this, but I have no other choice in order to uphold the will of the old ones and I will say no more. This meeting is ended, see to your cities, your lines of power, repair, rebuild, heal and grow wiser.” he said, before winking out existence as though he had never been there at all.

The others said nothing, but as one, returned on their slow descents back to their corporeal forms. The first took longer in it’s journey, not from effort, but to ponder all that had been said whilst he didn’t have the sluggishness of his body to distract him.
“Xolotl, what could this mean, what could this Old one have done to be vilified more so than chaos itself, the very nature of destruction?”

Lord Mazdamundi’s eyes snapped open so fast that his closest attendant jumped in fright.

“Oh revered one…” it began apologetically.

“See to the city” Mazdamundi commanded, “heal those who remain within healing's reach and help those who are not.”

He sent a pulse of thought to his subordinates in the third, fourth and fifth generations, informing them of the decision to follow the old ones’ plan and to rebuild and heal the city and jungle.

He was about to take a more direct approach himself, when suddenly the voice of the third, Lord Adohi-Tehga, shattered his concentration, the level of urgency evident.

“Spawn sibling, I require your aid!”

“I have enough damage to mend here, your abilities are more than capable of mending the hurts in your own city without my aid.” he replied, perhaps a little too testily.

“No, you misunderstand” came the reply almost instantly. “It has begun, while we were in communion, Xolotl’s avatar walks abroad!”

Mazdamundi felt his heart stiffen with dread, whilst far off in Tlaxtlan the night sky boomed and roared in anger, vicious streaks of lightening casting brief but terrible flashes of light across a horrific scene, butchery on an unheard of level, mutated beasts and mutilated daemons. Mage priest Ulotp’al allowing this master to witness the carnage through his eyes, this was massacre on a new scale, unlike the lizardmen, it was beyond savage, but not like that of the Ork, there was no emotion in this act, no joy, no rage, nothing, it was empty, efficient, brutal, but above all else, thorough.


Adohi-Tehga looked on, relaying all to Mazdamundi,

“Why are the daemons still here?” he asked “Their forms should have collapsed upon their death, why is this not so?”

Mazdamundi was silent for many long moments before he finally spoke. “When a daemon is slain it’s essence returns to the realms of chaos, it’s body ceases to exist, but not it's spirit."

He was silent again for many long moments. “They’re dead” he said at length “Not just their bodies, but their essence itself has been un-made, they cannot be re-born, nor return to their masters, they have been utterly destroyed.”

Adohi-Tehga felt a cold fear creep over him, he was about to speak but his attention was diverted as still linked to his subordinates sight, he saw it, the lightning flashed again and there it was, standing in the open, staring straight at him, cold as the grave, black as death, a giant and ugly skull helm covering it’s entire head, except for two cold eyes, glowing right back at him.

“Ulotp’al, retreat at once!”

 

[Bowser]

Oh so awesome! That's a scary but effective spawning right there! Looking forward to more!

 

[Rikard]

Thank you, I thought it might help answer later questions by going back to a time just after the fall of the warp gates.

 

[Bowser]

I also like the opening up with the leadership quote from the slann, both inspirational and effective to open with.

 

[spawning of Bob]

I struggle to make sensible comments about your stuff, Rikard, because it is so darn good.

The only useful feedback I can give is that "Old Ones" should have capitals, and the slann met on an astral "plane" not an astral "plain".

 

[Rikard]

The battle for all it's preparation had been disconcertingly swift, the raiders caught completely unaware and slaughtered in a perfectly executed series of assaults, counters and maneuvers that it defied believe, almost as if master Ulotp’al had brought it into being simply by his utterance of it. The exact number of casualties from each attack, the enemies' reactions and surprisingly, even the number of foes that escaped the battle field, it was this last part that un-nerved Tec-olptl, though his master Ulotp’al was possessed of an intellect far beyond mortal means, even he demonstrated an alarmingly accurate foresight. To that end, if Ulotp’al had known of the number of foes that would escape the battle, why did he not make preparations to ensure a total massacre? If they were doomed to perish in the jungles and fall victim to the many dangers, then why did he have them pursue the survivors? Why would his master want or even need confirmation of their deaths?

Tec-olptl heard strange noises carry downwind, alien noises, the sounds of the survivors; though he couldn't understand the language, he could tell that they were arguing and it wasn't the battle that started it. He paused to listen a little more, but primarily to allow his pack to catch up with him, he quickly motioned, a few short clicks and hand gestures and his hunting pack split off to partially encircle the invaders. This too puzzled him, master Ulotp’al knew they would gather here and had already given Tec-olptl and his skirmishers very explicit instructions on how to proceed, but for some reason he had been most insistent that they not form a complete circle before attacking, but leave a wide space to the south west. This too was stranger, but perhaps more bizarre were his final instructions.

"Do not raise your weapons, no matter what you may see, upon reaching the interlopers you will wait on the edge of sight and precisly fifty heart paces and then proceed, but do NOT engage, no matter the reason."

Tec-olptl still didn't know what to make of this, he had of course given those exact instructions to his pack and like his master, reiterated the lesson several times to make sure his commands were obeyed, but still...why? He can't have been more than fifty paces from the lithe creatures, he could hear their harmonious voices practically stab at one another even though they all spoke softly, almost pleasantly to one another (or as close to pleasure as the morbidly dressed creatures could), one of the voices sounded slightly more shrill than the others, one of their magic users he thought. He had seen them on the battle field, although the power they commanded was impressive they were all too aware of it, obstinate little things thought they were at the pinnacle of such powers, perhaps they could be forgiven for such hubris, he had felt the air pressure angrily tighten around him during the battle when one of the more awkwardly dressed of these magick cadres had attempted to engulf a unit of saurus in a black choking cloud. The look of horror on the obnoxious little creature's face had been most amusing when master Ulotp’al had simultaneously snuffed the cloud out of existence and blown enormous rents out the entire left flank of their force, with a casual flick of a finger.

Tec-olptl now reached his mark, just a few paces more along his branch and he would be able to see the clearing, all he needed to do was wait...
One... he felt his heart pound, almost ominous, within his chest, the start of the countdown of doom.
Two... he stiffened, sinking his body low to the branch and slinging his blow pipe to his side.
Three... he focused, forcing his skin colour to change, to blend in with his surrounding and render him invisible (even though it was automatic).
Four... he allowed his eyes to swivel forward, focusing on the clearing beyond and ready of anything that might happen.
Five... he slowed his breathing and let out a final breath, he would not breathe again until the battle was over.
Six... he felt his heart rate slow, the lack of movement allowing it to fall to a more gentle pace.
Seven... he focused on his hearing, listening intently to the weird chirruping, whistling sound of those spiteful birds.
Eight... he was getting restless now, despite the patience of his kind, something should have happened by now.
Nine... Why were there no shouts, no screams, the moment his heart had started the countdown he expected something, anything! Master Ulotp’al was famed for his precision.
Ten... Something was wrong here, it couldn't be because of his master, it couldn't! Something must have gone wrong somewhere, something terrible, something that even Ulotp’al missed, but how was such a thing possible?!
Eleven...less than forty beats left, he had to act, he had to, even at the risk of his master's wrath.
Twelve... he crept along the branch and peered into the clearing.

Tec-olptl saw twenty of the black clad warriors, their baroque armour caked in mud and blood, some where injured, albeit minor, there was a number of others too, lower ranks, injuries amongst them were more common, though none looked debilitating or even crippling. In the center was the magic caster he had seen earlier, the pale figure stalking this way and that, shrieking and squeaking with excitement and fear in equal measure as she waved he hand at a golden plaque that had been looted from a temple, though it didn't look like any he had seen before. Despite the humidity and the brilliance of the light, the plaque seemed dark, as though bathed in shadow with no source, cold even, his eyes quickly swiveled and refocused as he was almost convinced he saw streams of frost blow from it.
Nineteen... the elves suddenly reacted as one, leaping from their positions to grab weapon and shield as they faced the dense jungle in quick formation, for a brief moment Tec-olptl thought they had become aware of him.
Twenty... then he heard the roar.

The jungle seemed far more oppressive, true Tec-olptl knew it was always full of dangers, but now it seemed as though it was alive and exceptionally angry, the pale things practically exuded fear, Tec-olptl could see the spear tips of one or two shake though fatigue was definitely not the cause. Heads now darted first one way, then the other, one of them made a mewling sound, fear, before one of the elite warriors cut it down without a word.

Twenty five... The terror, the cold, the darkness, suddenly it all seemed to compress into a single spot and then it came a shape so huge that at first it looked to be Kroxigor sized in stature, but no Kroxigor was that fast, or that savage. In the blink of an eye it hit the ground with large, powerful strides, each one flicking great lumps of earth into the air as the dark tore into the pale creatures.

Twenty six... Tec-olptl saw two of them thrown clear over the heads of their comrades as the shadow collided into the pale warriors, their fragile bodies broken from the impact, as shields buckled weakly and spears snapped against a hide they could not penetrate.

Twenty seven... Before the pale beings could strike back, it had already begun to rain down blows, Tec-olptl had been reminded at first of the crude looking green things he'd encountered before, but such notions were quickly cast aside. Those ugly green things enjoyed fighting, favouring strength and size to see that their blows land, but the shadow before him was different in this regard, not savage, but efficient, coldly efficient. Strikes and counters were neither wild nor furious, there was no frenzy, or emotion in those blows, they were, like the dark thing before him, inevitable, like a dread prophecy bringing doom upon the foes one by one.

Twenty eight...The baroque dressed creatures tried to press in around it, overwhelm it with numbers, but the more of them that surrounded it, the faster it appeared to move, each blow destined for it's target, Tec-olptl could see that each strike was fatal, none were crippled, none were spared, as the blow from the strange weapon it carried caught one elite straight in the chest on the shadow's back swing, practically bisecting the warrior as it's torso folded backwards before pulling it's legs down with it. Yet perhaps the most unsettling aspect was that the pale elite moved into that position at the exact same time the shadow begun the back-swing, sealing it's fate just by moving into a position of apparent strength. Spears and barbed longswords swung at the shadow, some striking home, scoring scales and even piercing flesh, but strangely, the shadow's own blows took it out of harms way from any counter that might have had a chance to injure or even kill it.

Thirty four... The shadow suddenly leapt forward, dodging a combined attack from it's rear to land bodily on top of another elite, the sheer weight of the impact sending blood and viscera spraying from the rents in it's armour as gore collected between the great claws of the shadow's feet. The dark thing, hadn't even been aware of the attack from behind.

Forty... The shadow caught another elite by the shoulder and snapped it's head to the side, flinging the elite so violently that the limb exploded from the warrior, as it was flung bodily into the magic caster, who was desperately trying to channel the winds of power. The shadow didn't even pause, turning so sharply it's tail formed a telling arch, the natural barbs and serrated edges obliterating the face of one warrior and taking the arm of a second at the elbow.

Forty three... The warriors were all dead now, only the magic user left, as it mewled in desperation, pointing an accusing finger at the great shape, streams of black light, poured from it's hand to strike the shadow in an explosion of darkness. For a moment nothing happened within the roiling fog of death before suddenly the shadow leapt from it, unscathed. It scooped up the screaming magic caster and crushed her head in one huge fist, streamy grey matter and bone fragments dripped from the dark thing's claws.

Forty four... Tec-olptl could now get a good look at the shadow, it carried long very heavy looking halberd, that had a double edged blade at either end, it's body was bedecked in all manner of bone armour, much like the highest rank of temple guard. It's helm however, was very different, most of it's face lay hidden behind a massive skull helm, though it was the eyes that struck Tec-olptl most, two orbs of cold, unleashed purpose, they were the eyes of creature that could not be distracted, could not be manipulated, could not be stopped. He felt the air return to his lungs in a sharp intake of breath as he realized, the shadow was looking right at him...

Forty five... "I told you to wait for fifty paces..." came the voice.

Bo-Anhx bellowed in pain as his body slammed into the hard stone, shards flying in all directions for his impact. His limbs surged with pain and he couldn't help but slide to the floor, pausing to catch his breath, make eye contact with his foe before casually spitting, the acrid copper taste in his mouth indicating there was a good deal of blood mixed with the spittle and a faint "plink" signalling at least one tooth had been knocked out with that blow. His yellow eyes narrowed, focusing on his attacker, an upstart, a new spawn who had never seen the old world, still wet from the ooze of the spawning pools on this strange new world. His anger flared and he couldn't help in trying to suppress a low growl, newly spawned this Saurus might be, but there was no denying his might, the spawnling had lifted the grizzled veteran clean off his feet with a single blow and was even no patiently waiting for Bo-Anhx to get back on his feet. A saurus he is, but a warrior he is not, Bo-Anhx knew that such respite would spell doom if shown to a foe and he fully intended to teach this tadpole the importance of such a lesson.

He shook himself vigorously, sending stone fragments and dust from his armoured hide like water and simultaneously flooding his muscles with freshly oxygenated blood, before slowly rising to his feet, daring his challenger to charge. The new spawn didn't react, his pose a mask, betraying no intent of attack, or even fatigue, his brightly mottled hide remained motionless as his lazily blinked in the sun's glare. Bo-Anhx exploded forward the second he saw the movement begin, whip cord muscles in his tail propelling him forward like a rocket, as his powerful legs launched him from the flag stones. He collided with the upstart, half expecting to flatten him with the effort, but the spawnling weathered the brutal assault, skidding back on the flag stones, but without losing balance, before he responded and far quicker than Bo-Anhx expected. A fist caught Bo-Anhx low in his chest, his floating rib crumpling under the force, as his head came down to rip the Scar veteran's snout from his head. Bo-Anhx saw this move however and ignoring the stabbing agony in his side, allowed his weight to fall, pulling both himself and his attacker down, as his tail came up from the momentum and diamond hard scales slashed across his assailants face in splatter of gore.

The new spawn bellowed in pain, dropping the scar veteran and staggering backwards disorientated, Bo-Anhx weathered the fall easily and was already on his feet and ready to charge for a second time. Just as quickly the spawnling recovered, shaking his head so that fresh blood splattered across the ground and fixed his one remaining eye on Bo-Anhx, all trace of discomfort suddenly gone as he too lunged for scar veteran's throat. Suddenly the space in-between the two saurus shifted, then changed colour as a tiny skink appeared between the two of them, though the new spawn was fast and Bo-Anhx experienced, neither were a match for this new threat. Everything happened so fast it almost seemed as though the skink didn't move at all, both eyes snapped round independently and with almost autonomous precision, each targeting a different saurus and focusing as if having found a crippling vulnerability in each combatant. A blow pipe shaped like a golden vine snake, lined up perfectly with one eye, Bo-Anhx desperately resisting his trajectory in a shower of dust and rubble. The spawnling however now focused his savagry on the little skink that stood in the way, it was obvious he not heard of Oxayotl, but was quickly enlightened. Oxayotl's tail struck, hitting a nerve in the spawnling's leg that his hide would have protected had he not been so newly risen; the saurus tripped colliding with the ground rather clumsily, as Oxayotl easily somersaulted over the massive bulk that ploughed through the dust and pebbles. Bo-Anhx couldn't help but notice that even as he did so Oxayotl's eye and blowpipe didn't move at all, both stayed perfectly focused on the scar veteran throughout the entire leap, he growled uneasily, showing his hands and backing away. The other saurus that looked on, likewise took a step back, though each could easily crush him, all knew they would have neither the opportunity to get close enough, nor a second chance if hit by one of those darts.

The spawnling however roared and sprang to his feet, claws reaching for the Chameleon skink, a second blur and the spawnling crashed to the ground again, coughing furiously, hands protecting his throat from where Oxayotl had struck him with the barrel of his blow pipe. It looked up with his one remaining eye to see the master poisoner point that dread weapon directly at it. Oxayotl's eyes rotated again, moving with mechanical ease over each saurus that had been watching the melee, the snorting and growls of unrest replaced with chilly silence. The message was painfully clear, there would not be another warning; cautiously, still protecting it's throat and trying to mask the occasional cough, the new spawn slowly backed away as the message sank in, some risks were simply not worth taking.

 

[Rikard]

Quick FYI as I've only just noticed there appears to very few links, but no shortage of loose ends.

This will all tie together, hopefully one or two patterns should be visible, but I've already created a list of events, so even if it seems confusing, all will become clear in time.

 

[spawning of Bob]

Wow, just wow.

I've got a bad feeling I will need to re read the 8th edition army book again, and maybe finish assembling my Chakax because of you.