Vocenae
Member
- Messages
- 3
The first sign that there was anything in the swamp were the rough cut stones that barely stood above surface of the murky water.
Szraezr knew that he and his Thresh were close when he could see the blocky structures casting shadows in the moonlight. Beyond them, sunken and buried beneath water, mud and mangroves, stood the temple. It's original structure was long since buried and what remained was only the topmost chambers, little more than platforms that had, at one time, been designed to let the sun and moonlight be reflected into the temple interior. All the Naga warlord knew of it now was that it was squat and square and very, very dangerous. Not because of any traps, of course, but of the secret that lay within. The secret that he sought to, if not claim, then at least make use of. Szraezr had been here only once before as a young Scale, and now that he was the age that his father had been, he was returning.
The five Naga that made up the Thresh were barely visible themselves as they slithered through the swamp that the Landwellers called 'Bayou Garramarisma', their reptilian heads just high enough above the water so that they could see. It was an odd thing, to rely on their sight above water and it bothered the warlord just as much as it did his fellows; Naga had perfect vision in the oceans and rivers of the world with their twin paris of eyes but this swamp was far too murky and dark. Even now Szraezr's gills burned as the detritus filled water coursed in and out of them, the silt and mud forcing the Thresh, himself included, to breathe through their smaller nostrils. He fought the urge to gasp like a Fin-ling taking it's first breaths of air as the cloying, oppressive water felt as if it was suffocating him. He currently wished that the water had been deep enough, and the channels wide enough, that they could have guided their Leviathan into this bay. It had carried them at speed across the seas, but even as it feasted and gorged in the open waters beyond the swamp, it's master was struggling.
But beyond the horrible swimming conditions, the Naga were not truly alone in their trek. While the beasts were kept at bay by the overall large size of the humanoid snake-men, fanged reptiles that possessed thick, leathery hides and sharp claws swam just out of reach of the Thresh's tridents, looking for an opening to attack and feast. Or at least make an attempt; the Thresh had already killed several of their would-be predators as they entered the swamp. And it seemed that the beasts knew where their presence was accepted, for as soon as the Naga crossed the stony boundary, Szraezr could feel the currents around him shift as the reptiles quickly turned around and swam off, leaving clouds of silt and mud swirling in the dark waters behind them.
The warlord couldn't blame them, the water beyond the marked perimeter had turned frigid in an instant. There was no hidden gate, nothing that blocked the rest of the swamp from mixing with the waters around the temple; it was simply the effect of magic, a wound in the water that should not have been. Szraezr could hear the panicked hissing of his Thresh behind him as they were unprepared for the change in water temperature. And unlike his patch-work of chainmail and leather armor, they only had their scaled hides for armor and spears for protection.
"Trickery!"
"Foul! Wrong!"
"Swamp water better!"
"Turn back! Turn back!"
He rolled his four eyes and adjusted his body, drifting to a stop in the unnaturally cold water as he turned to face the other Naga.
"Fear not! This is what we have searched for! We are close to power, brothers! Quiet your fears and remember that you are Naga! The might of the sea! The ravagers of rivers, the scourge of this forsaken swamp!" Szraezr pulled his trident from it's sheath on his finned back and held it aloft, the droplets of water catching the moonlight and appearing like drops of silver falling into the water in front of his frightened soldiers, who glanced at each other and did the same, lifting their primitive spears into the night sky.
"Yes, warlord!"
"We are strong!"
"Not give up on mission!"
"Shall not fear!"
The hisses of the four other Naga wavered over slightly as his show of strength seemed to quell their panic. At least for the moment; these were fairly young and stupid Scales, barely older than Fin-lings and had only been part of his Frenzy for a handful of weeks. They had yet to become civilized like the more elder Naga under Szraezr's command. But momentary courage was still useful, and with a handful of hisses, the warlord dispatched each Scale to the sunken pillars; their finned, serpentine forms crouched low in the humid and insect-filled night air like statues as they stood guard. That was one problem dealt with, and Szraezr placed his trident back into it's sheath and swam deeper into the cold, lifeless water, getting closer to the temple that he had traveled so far for.
The closer he swam the colder the water became until it felt as though he was swimming through ice, and the pain that came with it. Not even the blackest depths of the seas had he felt this level of cold! The warlord fought back the desire to roar in pain and turn back, pushing forward and feeling the invisible blades of cold slide across his scales to the point where the pain was almost unbearable, where if he had been a lesser Naga he would have thought himself lured into a trap filled with hidden spears! But Szraezr grunted and grimaced and continued until his bulk finally slid upon the submerged stone that marked the only remaining entry-way into this lost and forgotten place. He heaved himself forward and upwards, his large body and even larger tail coiling on the damp stone above the water as he gasped for breath; his nostrils and gills flaring beneath the moon that was now directly overhead.
"Oy 'dere. Ol'Tazinzji be seein' ya, mon. Slow down ya breathin' ya gon' be aight" A voice that sounded like the crumbling of of rock said above him, and Szraezr looked up in alarm to see the gangly form of a tusked Landweller sitting crouched among the roots of one of the mangroves that were slowly claiming the temple as their own.
"Ssseek audience. Bessstow power!" The warlord hissed in broken Man-Speak. He was getting better at it, but the clumsy language was difficult for a species with such elongated jaws and such a small tongue to use. The females, with their more man-shaped features, were better at it, but Szraezr was a warlord, and refused to rely on others to speak in his stead. A great many hours and a great many captured Landwellers had imparted an understanding of the many different languages of their dry kingdoms to him, but speaking was still a challenge.
"ya, Ol' Tazinzji knowin' dis. Well, ya best be pullin' ya'slef up and lookin' presentable. 'Ere, take Ol' Tazinzji's hand" The gangly Troll stepped from the shadows and presented himself in the full moon. He was almost as tall as Szraezr, and very old. Dull, lifeless hair hung down around a leathery, scarred face and his gaunt, skinny frame disguised the Troll's true strength as he pulled the Naga upright onto his tail with a single heave. ""Dere, mon. Now ya be comin' in. Rude ta' be keepin' folk waitin'"
The Troll and Naga made their way into the temple, the old but clearly till spry Landweller clambering over mangrove roots and broken stone, scampering into the black void at what had once been the temple's zenith. Szraezr's snake-like lower body struggled only somewhat as it coiled and slithered along the same path as the warlord's powerful forearms heaved his body up when it could not otherwise find it's own purchase. Without pause he slipped between the mangrove roots and descended into the temple without a single look back to his Thresh. He knew where he was going and, at least thought, he knew what to expect. The darkness itself was not some mystical barrier either; his eyes adjusted easily to the lightless interior as he followed after the Troll's lanky form as it, with deceptive speed, walked downwards on the crumbling stone stairs that spiraled down towards a weak, flickering light below. It was an oppressive silence, however, with the dull padding of 'Ol Tazinjzi's feet and the slight whisper of scales scraping against rock as the warlord followed, eventually reaching the bottom of the temple. Or perhaps what was only top of a much larger structure. Szraezr might never know.
"Okay 'den. Ya be waitin' righ' 'ere, mon. Ol Tazinjzi be back when ya ready ta go" The Troll said with a shrug, pointing a long finger towards the small, flickering fire only a short distance away. Without another word, the ancient looking creature padded silently back up into the darkness, leaving Szraezr alone in the dark.
But he wasn't alone for long.
Perhaps it was the flickering of the flame and the weak shadows it cast on the featureless walls, but there was definitely something in the chamber with him. A shadow that did not move quite right, a silhouette that lingered a moment too long. There came the sound of something snapping in the dark, and no matter where the warlord cast his eyes, he could not see the source of it. the shadows that gathered in the corners of the chamber grew darker and deeper, his enhanced vision refusing the pierce the shroud as it descended into the temple. Soon the weak flame of the fire was nearly smothered in the unnatural void, it's flickering against nothing. Even Szraezr, turning slightly to look behind him, could not see the end of his tail as...something, loomed.
And then it was gone, the shadows faded, the fire strengthened and the few features of the temple depths came back into view, along with something else.
Kneeling before him, tossing a few twigs into the struggling flames, was a small Landweller female. Her skin was the color of silt and covered in strange markings that were uncomfortable for Szraezr to stare at. Her clothing was ragged and hung limpy off her frame, barely concealing the strange features that male Landwellers seemed so...fascinated in. Long, wet looking black hair hung from her head, looking almost like a current of ink in the erratic light of the fire, and countless bones of what the warlord assumed to be small animals adorned her body. Some were piercings in her delicate looking flesh, others were woven into her clothes and hair. Her eyes were hidden, staring downward into the flame.
"It has been some time, Szraezr, Clutchling of Hraegra" The woman said softly, though her voice did not seem to come from her small frame. Instead it seemed to bounce and echo around the temple walls, assaulting the timpanic membranes that allowed every Naga to hear. Szraezr couldn't help but wince. "Oh yes, some time indeed...Tell me, what brings you once more to my humble abode?"
The warlord straightened his torso and gathered the words, thinking of precisely what he meant to say in the common tongue of the Landwellers.
"Come seek power. Make one strong. Look for gi-" He said in his broken accent, but stopped as the woman held up one long-taloned hand.
"I do not require humiliation from those seeking my company. Speak your tongue, warlord, and be the civil minded mortal I know you to be" Her voice was powerful, radiant, not at all the hoarse coughs that Szraezr remembered from his first time here, where he had stood with his father, the former warlord as he too sought the woman's power. No, whoever, or perhaps whatever, this was was youthful once more. But no less powerful, as the shadows stretching out from the female's form darkened and twitched in the flickering light.
"Hmmph. Very well. I thank you for your hospitality" Szraezr's true voice did not echo in the enclosed space, though her was grateful nonetheless for a chance to be fluent once more, "My father and I came many years ago seeking your favor, seeking the strength that you can impart onto warriors so that we may be unstoppable in battle. I have come for the same blessing"
A cruel laugh echoed through the chamber.
"Come now, warlord. Surely you do no take me for some conjuror of cheap parlor tricks? You are as laid bare to me as the stone of the mountain. You do not seek something as crude as strength. No, you already have the strength you desire...Such a journey made tonight speaks of a different need..."
Shock ran down Szraezr's spine, causing it to raise in alarm, the blood pumping through the thin membrane that was laced between each long spine. but the being in front of him did not look up from the flame.
"No, you seek that which your pitiful race does not possess; time. Time to lead your Frenzies and Threshes, to truly make a difference and go beyond squatting in hovels on your island and swatting pathetically at the races of the mainland. No, I see into that feeble construct of a soul and have found the one thing you fear and desire most; time itself"
The shadows twisted and curled around the unmoving female and the towering Naga, who suddenly felt exposed, as if staring down one of the great beasts of the seas in open water. He could FEEL the layers of his mind being laid bare beneath such a presence.
"I...Yes. My time in this world is half-spent. I have a mighty Frenzy and have been with enough of my Pod-Mates to spawn the Clutches of my legacy. But the territory I have taken, the others of my kind that I have slaughtered, those of the Landwellers that I have slain and seen driven before me in chains...It will mean nothing if I am to die of old age before I can truly use the strength I have gathered" Szraezr hissed and snarled as the words fell out of him, snatched up by the shuddering and convulsing shadows around him. It was all truth, both that of the female's words and his own. He had inherited so much from his father, his Scales, his Threshes, his Frenzy. All with the dying gasp of using it against the world of the Landwellers. But it had taken so many years for Sraezr to consolidate his power, to strike down those Naga that sought to carve their own empires out of his father's corpse. And then to re-organize it all into an empire of his own, forged under his claws and fangs. No Naga lived long enough to truly use their strength against the Landwellers, not beyond pathetic raids. No glorious campaigns, no dirt empires. Each small success was built upon and forgotten by the next generation until even the mightiest warlord was nothing more than a footnote in the Cliff of Stories, if they made it that far.
"True. You will wither and rot on that island, never to see the victories you so desire, with nothing but bored concubines playing at dull scales and the mass of Clutchlings that don't even know your name. I see it all as clear as now..." The female's voice trailed off into the darkened distance, and Szraezr himself could almost see such a grim future playing out between the embers. An old snake that sat upon a throne of regret.
"N-no. NO!" The warlord hissed, though his voice was weak, wavering, terrified as the vision of the misbegotten future flashed before his eyes. He swiped helplessly at the flames, scattering the embers across the temple floor as the light, the vision, and the female, faded into absolute darkness. Time, wretched time, seemed to stand still as suddenly the predatory presence surrounded Szraezr, it's shadowed teeth in a terrible grin as it crept tighter around his bulky frame. The Naga could swear that he could feel fangs tracing their way along his tail, teasing at his spine and fins.
"Oh yes" The female's voice whispered from the unknown. He spun, but yet there was only darkness, and the feeling of something terrible playing with it's prey, "Another mighty warlord, yet doomed to be forgotten, ignored. And the races of men, elf and dwarf, even the great dragons will one day scour your island and scatter your race to the tides..."
"P-please!" The towering Naga was bent low by the maddening whispers that filled his head. He clutched one taloned hand against his skull while propping his heavy body up against the cold stone floor of the temple. This was nothing like it had been with his father! The witch had simply given a blessing and left! But this...!
"Do not lose your nerve now, warlord. You've done so well, and have come oh so far for something that is well within my power to give...Tremble before me now and lose everything you have risked to the darkness. And oh, how I hunger..."
Szraezr gasped, saliva spilling from his mouth, his gills and nostrils flaring as he struggled upwards. He could feel the jaws tightening around him, nothing more than a morsel to be devoured! The weak...the weak were eaten! But he was NOT weak! His bones ached, his muscles burned, his gills seeped blood and tears streamed from his eyes, but slowly Szraezr, warlord of the Naga, lifted himself up.
"I...I have come to s-seek your blessing, o'powerful one" He stammered, his forked tongue lolling around drunkenly, "If you grant me t-the gift that I seek, then I will...I will satiate your hunger! I will...I will see your temple restored and remembered! The Landwellers will burn in my name and yours! Oh mistress, grant me thy blessing so that we can make the world anew!"
The ephemeral jaws that had slowly closed around Szraezr's neck receded, the shadows pulling away from his shivering body as they coalesced around the extinguished fire, taking the form of a small human female of dark skin and hair, illuminated only by a thin shaft of moonlight that trickled in from the temple's ruined apex above. There was only silence in the chamber, he could not even hear his breath or the cacophony of insects in the world outside. And then there was a chuckle.
"You offer such fine prizes, Szraezr, Clutchling of Hraegra, warlord of the Naga. Very well, I offer you what you desire most; time to see your legend rise above all others, time to see your empire of dirt stretch from one sea to the other" The female's voice was amused, but hard and cold. The true threat may have passed, but he was not out of danger yet, "Spill your blood here now, and let me sup upon this pact" The woman's body moved slightly, procuring a long blade that looked to be made of shadow itself and presenting it upwards to the Naga. He slowly reached out, as if daring to pull meat from the den of a predator, and curled his long claws around the handle of the blade. It felt...wrong in his hand, and Szraezr quickly took the blade from the woman's hand and drew is swiftly across his forearm scales, drawing a line of thick blood that hissed and spattered against the blade before dripping to the temple floor. The deed done, he placed the shadow-blade back into the woman's waiting hand, which withdrew it into the dark depths of his bosom.
A thundering laugh filled the chamber, and Szraezr hissed in agony as he felt the blood in his veins suddenly turn to ice! The Naga collapsed to the temple floor and writhed in the darkness as the coldest chill he had ever known consumed his body from the inside out. The pain, oh Depths, the PAIN. Szraezr let out a screech and then the looming darkness took him.
The last thing that he saw was eyes, so many eyes, staring at him from the shadows, and then he knew nothing.
---
"Oi, up ya' get, mon" The course voice of the Troll cut through the freezing cold pit that Szraezr's mind had been cast into, pulling him back into consciousness. Light filled his eyes, and all four orbs blinked rapidly as they struggled to adjust. The warlord hissed and went slack against the aged Troll's gangly, crooked frame strong and firm against the Naga's not insignificant bulk as his head swam in pain. Slowly, details began to come into focus; a great amount of time had passed, at least long enough for the night to pass into noon-day from the trickle of sunlight that now fell down into the temple chamber. The sounds of insects and birdsong filled the distance, and the swamp's warm, sticky air felt good against his scales.
"Ol Tazinjzi was tinkin' ya mighta been a gona fer sure, mon! But ya kept ya'cool, an' ya offerin' her all dem nice tings? Dat be de smart move! But now ya got Ol Tazinjzi wonderin' if ya follow through. Time, s'pose, gonna be de judge o'dat"
"Release me, I can stand on my own" Szraezr hissed groggily, shoving the Troll away. The wizened creature shrugged and released his charge, stepping back towards the crumbling stairs they'd descended down the night before.
"Suit ya'self, mon. C'mon, we best be gettin' undaway. Long swim, ya'know"
Szraezr was still so out of it that he truly didn't comprehend what the Troll was speaking about. Instead the warlord was trying to take stock; was his body intact? Was he unspoiled? He felt fine save for a small chill, almost as if he was feverish. But his limbs and tail felt strong, and without waiting on the Troll to take the lead, the Naga began slithering up the stairs to the temple apex, and emerged out into the blinding mid-day sun. Where the swamp had been eerie and oppressive in the dark, it now glittered in the sunlight, the brown water looking warm and pleasant, the air humid and moist against his parched gills. Gentle white clouds rolled overhead and the sun felt good on his scales. And in the distance, on the four standing stones, lay the bloody remains of four Naga. The Troll must have read his expression.
"Ya did good bringin' de offerin'. Doubt she would have let ya go so easy had ya not. Good thinkin' dere"
"Indeed" Szraezr hissed. He hadn't forgotten the remains of his father's own Scales. Though whatever gift the...being had granted his father had not not required the loss of time along with that of sacrificial flesh. Expendable, stupid flesh that wouldn't be missed. The swamp, after all, held many dangers. The Troll, Tazinjzi, hadn't waited or cared to explain, the gangly limbs hustling down the exterior of the temple and pulling aside several vines to reveal a small canoe carved out of wood. The Naga narrowed his eyes.
"Oi, ya din't tink she'd be lettin' ya go without an escort now, didya? Ol Tazinjzi's gon'be keepin a close eye on ya...Make sure ya do as ya promised"
Szraezr hissed in annoyance, "And what of this temple? What happens when someone else finds their way here? What will...'she' do without a guardian?"
"Oh, ya don' need ta be worryin'. Ain't nobody gonna find this temple, not 'til she be good and ready...And if they do, well, everybody gotta eat, mon. Everybody gotta eat. Now c'mon, daylight be burnin'"
The Troll plopped his form into the roughly carved canoe and began slowly paddling across the brown, glittering water of the swamp, paying no heed to the growing anger of the Naga beind him. A LEASH! That treacherous witch! But if she had truly given him what he wanted...Well, perhaps the Troll would turn out to be an asset. Or maybe just an annoyance. Szraezr slithered down to the temple's base and let himself fall into the brown water, bracing himself for the freezing cold, yet finding only the warm, silty water of the swamp's bay surrounding him and beginning to flow through his dried gills. As much as he had cursed it last night, the muddy water felt wonderous upon his scales. The Naga warlord allowed himself to float in the warm water for a moment, his body recovering from the dry conditions, before he began pumping his tail back and forth as it propelled him through the water, cresting it next to Tazinjzi's canoe in just moments.
"Ah good, ya all betta den?" The Troll said with a chuckle, not even bothering to look down.
"Fantastic" Szraezr growled as he lifted his head out of the water. The Troll chuckled again as they passed the corpses of his dead Thresh, already writhing with black flies and other carnivorous insects. It was a long swim back to the Leviathan, and maybe if he was lucky, the many-tentacled beast would eat the Troll. The best scenario, but unlikely. But it made for a nice mental distraction as the two reached the edge of the bay and began navigating the narrow, twisting channels of the swamp proper.
Either way it was going to be a long swim. But finally in the first long while, Szraezr was not worry. He had all the time in the world.
Szraezr knew that he and his Thresh were close when he could see the blocky structures casting shadows in the moonlight. Beyond them, sunken and buried beneath water, mud and mangroves, stood the temple. It's original structure was long since buried and what remained was only the topmost chambers, little more than platforms that had, at one time, been designed to let the sun and moonlight be reflected into the temple interior. All the Naga warlord knew of it now was that it was squat and square and very, very dangerous. Not because of any traps, of course, but of the secret that lay within. The secret that he sought to, if not claim, then at least make use of. Szraezr had been here only once before as a young Scale, and now that he was the age that his father had been, he was returning.
The five Naga that made up the Thresh were barely visible themselves as they slithered through the swamp that the Landwellers called 'Bayou Garramarisma', their reptilian heads just high enough above the water so that they could see. It was an odd thing, to rely on their sight above water and it bothered the warlord just as much as it did his fellows; Naga had perfect vision in the oceans and rivers of the world with their twin paris of eyes but this swamp was far too murky and dark. Even now Szraezr's gills burned as the detritus filled water coursed in and out of them, the silt and mud forcing the Thresh, himself included, to breathe through their smaller nostrils. He fought the urge to gasp like a Fin-ling taking it's first breaths of air as the cloying, oppressive water felt as if it was suffocating him. He currently wished that the water had been deep enough, and the channels wide enough, that they could have guided their Leviathan into this bay. It had carried them at speed across the seas, but even as it feasted and gorged in the open waters beyond the swamp, it's master was struggling.
But beyond the horrible swimming conditions, the Naga were not truly alone in their trek. While the beasts were kept at bay by the overall large size of the humanoid snake-men, fanged reptiles that possessed thick, leathery hides and sharp claws swam just out of reach of the Thresh's tridents, looking for an opening to attack and feast. Or at least make an attempt; the Thresh had already killed several of their would-be predators as they entered the swamp. And it seemed that the beasts knew where their presence was accepted, for as soon as the Naga crossed the stony boundary, Szraezr could feel the currents around him shift as the reptiles quickly turned around and swam off, leaving clouds of silt and mud swirling in the dark waters behind them.
The warlord couldn't blame them, the water beyond the marked perimeter had turned frigid in an instant. There was no hidden gate, nothing that blocked the rest of the swamp from mixing with the waters around the temple; it was simply the effect of magic, a wound in the water that should not have been. Szraezr could hear the panicked hissing of his Thresh behind him as they were unprepared for the change in water temperature. And unlike his patch-work of chainmail and leather armor, they only had their scaled hides for armor and spears for protection.
"Trickery!"
"Foul! Wrong!"
"Swamp water better!"
"Turn back! Turn back!"
He rolled his four eyes and adjusted his body, drifting to a stop in the unnaturally cold water as he turned to face the other Naga.
"Fear not! This is what we have searched for! We are close to power, brothers! Quiet your fears and remember that you are Naga! The might of the sea! The ravagers of rivers, the scourge of this forsaken swamp!" Szraezr pulled his trident from it's sheath on his finned back and held it aloft, the droplets of water catching the moonlight and appearing like drops of silver falling into the water in front of his frightened soldiers, who glanced at each other and did the same, lifting their primitive spears into the night sky.
"Yes, warlord!"
"We are strong!"
"Not give up on mission!"
"Shall not fear!"
The hisses of the four other Naga wavered over slightly as his show of strength seemed to quell their panic. At least for the moment; these were fairly young and stupid Scales, barely older than Fin-lings and had only been part of his Frenzy for a handful of weeks. They had yet to become civilized like the more elder Naga under Szraezr's command. But momentary courage was still useful, and with a handful of hisses, the warlord dispatched each Scale to the sunken pillars; their finned, serpentine forms crouched low in the humid and insect-filled night air like statues as they stood guard. That was one problem dealt with, and Szraezr placed his trident back into it's sheath and swam deeper into the cold, lifeless water, getting closer to the temple that he had traveled so far for.
The closer he swam the colder the water became until it felt as though he was swimming through ice, and the pain that came with it. Not even the blackest depths of the seas had he felt this level of cold! The warlord fought back the desire to roar in pain and turn back, pushing forward and feeling the invisible blades of cold slide across his scales to the point where the pain was almost unbearable, where if he had been a lesser Naga he would have thought himself lured into a trap filled with hidden spears! But Szraezr grunted and grimaced and continued until his bulk finally slid upon the submerged stone that marked the only remaining entry-way into this lost and forgotten place. He heaved himself forward and upwards, his large body and even larger tail coiling on the damp stone above the water as he gasped for breath; his nostrils and gills flaring beneath the moon that was now directly overhead.
"Oy 'dere. Ol'Tazinzji be seein' ya, mon. Slow down ya breathin' ya gon' be aight" A voice that sounded like the crumbling of of rock said above him, and Szraezr looked up in alarm to see the gangly form of a tusked Landweller sitting crouched among the roots of one of the mangroves that were slowly claiming the temple as their own.
"Ssseek audience. Bessstow power!" The warlord hissed in broken Man-Speak. He was getting better at it, but the clumsy language was difficult for a species with such elongated jaws and such a small tongue to use. The females, with their more man-shaped features, were better at it, but Szraezr was a warlord, and refused to rely on others to speak in his stead. A great many hours and a great many captured Landwellers had imparted an understanding of the many different languages of their dry kingdoms to him, but speaking was still a challenge.
"ya, Ol' Tazinzji knowin' dis. Well, ya best be pullin' ya'slef up and lookin' presentable. 'Ere, take Ol' Tazinzji's hand" The gangly Troll stepped from the shadows and presented himself in the full moon. He was almost as tall as Szraezr, and very old. Dull, lifeless hair hung down around a leathery, scarred face and his gaunt, skinny frame disguised the Troll's true strength as he pulled the Naga upright onto his tail with a single heave. ""Dere, mon. Now ya be comin' in. Rude ta' be keepin' folk waitin'"
The Troll and Naga made their way into the temple, the old but clearly till spry Landweller clambering over mangrove roots and broken stone, scampering into the black void at what had once been the temple's zenith. Szraezr's snake-like lower body struggled only somewhat as it coiled and slithered along the same path as the warlord's powerful forearms heaved his body up when it could not otherwise find it's own purchase. Without pause he slipped between the mangrove roots and descended into the temple without a single look back to his Thresh. He knew where he was going and, at least thought, he knew what to expect. The darkness itself was not some mystical barrier either; his eyes adjusted easily to the lightless interior as he followed after the Troll's lanky form as it, with deceptive speed, walked downwards on the crumbling stone stairs that spiraled down towards a weak, flickering light below. It was an oppressive silence, however, with the dull padding of 'Ol Tazinjzi's feet and the slight whisper of scales scraping against rock as the warlord followed, eventually reaching the bottom of the temple. Or perhaps what was only top of a much larger structure. Szraezr might never know.
"Okay 'den. Ya be waitin' righ' 'ere, mon. Ol Tazinjzi be back when ya ready ta go" The Troll said with a shrug, pointing a long finger towards the small, flickering fire only a short distance away. Without another word, the ancient looking creature padded silently back up into the darkness, leaving Szraezr alone in the dark.
But he wasn't alone for long.
Perhaps it was the flickering of the flame and the weak shadows it cast on the featureless walls, but there was definitely something in the chamber with him. A shadow that did not move quite right, a silhouette that lingered a moment too long. There came the sound of something snapping in the dark, and no matter where the warlord cast his eyes, he could not see the source of it. the shadows that gathered in the corners of the chamber grew darker and deeper, his enhanced vision refusing the pierce the shroud as it descended into the temple. Soon the weak flame of the fire was nearly smothered in the unnatural void, it's flickering against nothing. Even Szraezr, turning slightly to look behind him, could not see the end of his tail as...something, loomed.
And then it was gone, the shadows faded, the fire strengthened and the few features of the temple depths came back into view, along with something else.
Kneeling before him, tossing a few twigs into the struggling flames, was a small Landweller female. Her skin was the color of silt and covered in strange markings that were uncomfortable for Szraezr to stare at. Her clothing was ragged and hung limpy off her frame, barely concealing the strange features that male Landwellers seemed so...fascinated in. Long, wet looking black hair hung from her head, looking almost like a current of ink in the erratic light of the fire, and countless bones of what the warlord assumed to be small animals adorned her body. Some were piercings in her delicate looking flesh, others were woven into her clothes and hair. Her eyes were hidden, staring downward into the flame.
"It has been some time, Szraezr, Clutchling of Hraegra" The woman said softly, though her voice did not seem to come from her small frame. Instead it seemed to bounce and echo around the temple walls, assaulting the timpanic membranes that allowed every Naga to hear. Szraezr couldn't help but wince. "Oh yes, some time indeed...Tell me, what brings you once more to my humble abode?"
The warlord straightened his torso and gathered the words, thinking of precisely what he meant to say in the common tongue of the Landwellers.
"Come seek power. Make one strong. Look for gi-" He said in his broken accent, but stopped as the woman held up one long-taloned hand.
"I do not require humiliation from those seeking my company. Speak your tongue, warlord, and be the civil minded mortal I know you to be" Her voice was powerful, radiant, not at all the hoarse coughs that Szraezr remembered from his first time here, where he had stood with his father, the former warlord as he too sought the woman's power. No, whoever, or perhaps whatever, this was was youthful once more. But no less powerful, as the shadows stretching out from the female's form darkened and twitched in the flickering light.
"Hmmph. Very well. I thank you for your hospitality" Szraezr's true voice did not echo in the enclosed space, though her was grateful nonetheless for a chance to be fluent once more, "My father and I came many years ago seeking your favor, seeking the strength that you can impart onto warriors so that we may be unstoppable in battle. I have come for the same blessing"
A cruel laugh echoed through the chamber.
"Come now, warlord. Surely you do no take me for some conjuror of cheap parlor tricks? You are as laid bare to me as the stone of the mountain. You do not seek something as crude as strength. No, you already have the strength you desire...Such a journey made tonight speaks of a different need..."
Shock ran down Szraezr's spine, causing it to raise in alarm, the blood pumping through the thin membrane that was laced between each long spine. but the being in front of him did not look up from the flame.
"No, you seek that which your pitiful race does not possess; time. Time to lead your Frenzies and Threshes, to truly make a difference and go beyond squatting in hovels on your island and swatting pathetically at the races of the mainland. No, I see into that feeble construct of a soul and have found the one thing you fear and desire most; time itself"
The shadows twisted and curled around the unmoving female and the towering Naga, who suddenly felt exposed, as if staring down one of the great beasts of the seas in open water. He could FEEL the layers of his mind being laid bare beneath such a presence.
"I...Yes. My time in this world is half-spent. I have a mighty Frenzy and have been with enough of my Pod-Mates to spawn the Clutches of my legacy. But the territory I have taken, the others of my kind that I have slaughtered, those of the Landwellers that I have slain and seen driven before me in chains...It will mean nothing if I am to die of old age before I can truly use the strength I have gathered" Szraezr hissed and snarled as the words fell out of him, snatched up by the shuddering and convulsing shadows around him. It was all truth, both that of the female's words and his own. He had inherited so much from his father, his Scales, his Threshes, his Frenzy. All with the dying gasp of using it against the world of the Landwellers. But it had taken so many years for Sraezr to consolidate his power, to strike down those Naga that sought to carve their own empires out of his father's corpse. And then to re-organize it all into an empire of his own, forged under his claws and fangs. No Naga lived long enough to truly use their strength against the Landwellers, not beyond pathetic raids. No glorious campaigns, no dirt empires. Each small success was built upon and forgotten by the next generation until even the mightiest warlord was nothing more than a footnote in the Cliff of Stories, if they made it that far.
"True. You will wither and rot on that island, never to see the victories you so desire, with nothing but bored concubines playing at dull scales and the mass of Clutchlings that don't even know your name. I see it all as clear as now..." The female's voice trailed off into the darkened distance, and Szraezr himself could almost see such a grim future playing out between the embers. An old snake that sat upon a throne of regret.
"N-no. NO!" The warlord hissed, though his voice was weak, wavering, terrified as the vision of the misbegotten future flashed before his eyes. He swiped helplessly at the flames, scattering the embers across the temple floor as the light, the vision, and the female, faded into absolute darkness. Time, wretched time, seemed to stand still as suddenly the predatory presence surrounded Szraezr, it's shadowed teeth in a terrible grin as it crept tighter around his bulky frame. The Naga could swear that he could feel fangs tracing their way along his tail, teasing at his spine and fins.
"Oh yes" The female's voice whispered from the unknown. He spun, but yet there was only darkness, and the feeling of something terrible playing with it's prey, "Another mighty warlord, yet doomed to be forgotten, ignored. And the races of men, elf and dwarf, even the great dragons will one day scour your island and scatter your race to the tides..."
"P-please!" The towering Naga was bent low by the maddening whispers that filled his head. He clutched one taloned hand against his skull while propping his heavy body up against the cold stone floor of the temple. This was nothing like it had been with his father! The witch had simply given a blessing and left! But this...!
"Do not lose your nerve now, warlord. You've done so well, and have come oh so far for something that is well within my power to give...Tremble before me now and lose everything you have risked to the darkness. And oh, how I hunger..."
Szraezr gasped, saliva spilling from his mouth, his gills and nostrils flaring as he struggled upwards. He could feel the jaws tightening around him, nothing more than a morsel to be devoured! The weak...the weak were eaten! But he was NOT weak! His bones ached, his muscles burned, his gills seeped blood and tears streamed from his eyes, but slowly Szraezr, warlord of the Naga, lifted himself up.
"I...I have come to s-seek your blessing, o'powerful one" He stammered, his forked tongue lolling around drunkenly, "If you grant me t-the gift that I seek, then I will...I will satiate your hunger! I will...I will see your temple restored and remembered! The Landwellers will burn in my name and yours! Oh mistress, grant me thy blessing so that we can make the world anew!"
The ephemeral jaws that had slowly closed around Szraezr's neck receded, the shadows pulling away from his shivering body as they coalesced around the extinguished fire, taking the form of a small human female of dark skin and hair, illuminated only by a thin shaft of moonlight that trickled in from the temple's ruined apex above. There was only silence in the chamber, he could not even hear his breath or the cacophony of insects in the world outside. And then there was a chuckle.
"You offer such fine prizes, Szraezr, Clutchling of Hraegra, warlord of the Naga. Very well, I offer you what you desire most; time to see your legend rise above all others, time to see your empire of dirt stretch from one sea to the other" The female's voice was amused, but hard and cold. The true threat may have passed, but he was not out of danger yet, "Spill your blood here now, and let me sup upon this pact" The woman's body moved slightly, procuring a long blade that looked to be made of shadow itself and presenting it upwards to the Naga. He slowly reached out, as if daring to pull meat from the den of a predator, and curled his long claws around the handle of the blade. It felt...wrong in his hand, and Szraezr quickly took the blade from the woman's hand and drew is swiftly across his forearm scales, drawing a line of thick blood that hissed and spattered against the blade before dripping to the temple floor. The deed done, he placed the shadow-blade back into the woman's waiting hand, which withdrew it into the dark depths of his bosom.
A thundering laugh filled the chamber, and Szraezr hissed in agony as he felt the blood in his veins suddenly turn to ice! The Naga collapsed to the temple floor and writhed in the darkness as the coldest chill he had ever known consumed his body from the inside out. The pain, oh Depths, the PAIN. Szraezr let out a screech and then the looming darkness took him.
The last thing that he saw was eyes, so many eyes, staring at him from the shadows, and then he knew nothing.
---
"Oi, up ya' get, mon" The course voice of the Troll cut through the freezing cold pit that Szraezr's mind had been cast into, pulling him back into consciousness. Light filled his eyes, and all four orbs blinked rapidly as they struggled to adjust. The warlord hissed and went slack against the aged Troll's gangly, crooked frame strong and firm against the Naga's not insignificant bulk as his head swam in pain. Slowly, details began to come into focus; a great amount of time had passed, at least long enough for the night to pass into noon-day from the trickle of sunlight that now fell down into the temple chamber. The sounds of insects and birdsong filled the distance, and the swamp's warm, sticky air felt good against his scales.
"Ol Tazinjzi was tinkin' ya mighta been a gona fer sure, mon! But ya kept ya'cool, an' ya offerin' her all dem nice tings? Dat be de smart move! But now ya got Ol Tazinjzi wonderin' if ya follow through. Time, s'pose, gonna be de judge o'dat"
"Release me, I can stand on my own" Szraezr hissed groggily, shoving the Troll away. The wizened creature shrugged and released his charge, stepping back towards the crumbling stairs they'd descended down the night before.
"Suit ya'self, mon. C'mon, we best be gettin' undaway. Long swim, ya'know"
Szraezr was still so out of it that he truly didn't comprehend what the Troll was speaking about. Instead the warlord was trying to take stock; was his body intact? Was he unspoiled? He felt fine save for a small chill, almost as if he was feverish. But his limbs and tail felt strong, and without waiting on the Troll to take the lead, the Naga began slithering up the stairs to the temple apex, and emerged out into the blinding mid-day sun. Where the swamp had been eerie and oppressive in the dark, it now glittered in the sunlight, the brown water looking warm and pleasant, the air humid and moist against his parched gills. Gentle white clouds rolled overhead and the sun felt good on his scales. And in the distance, on the four standing stones, lay the bloody remains of four Naga. The Troll must have read his expression.
"Ya did good bringin' de offerin'. Doubt she would have let ya go so easy had ya not. Good thinkin' dere"
"Indeed" Szraezr hissed. He hadn't forgotten the remains of his father's own Scales. Though whatever gift the...being had granted his father had not not required the loss of time along with that of sacrificial flesh. Expendable, stupid flesh that wouldn't be missed. The swamp, after all, held many dangers. The Troll, Tazinjzi, hadn't waited or cared to explain, the gangly limbs hustling down the exterior of the temple and pulling aside several vines to reveal a small canoe carved out of wood. The Naga narrowed his eyes.
"Oi, ya din't tink she'd be lettin' ya go without an escort now, didya? Ol Tazinjzi's gon'be keepin a close eye on ya...Make sure ya do as ya promised"
Szraezr hissed in annoyance, "And what of this temple? What happens when someone else finds their way here? What will...'she' do without a guardian?"
"Oh, ya don' need ta be worryin'. Ain't nobody gonna find this temple, not 'til she be good and ready...And if they do, well, everybody gotta eat, mon. Everybody gotta eat. Now c'mon, daylight be burnin'"
The Troll plopped his form into the roughly carved canoe and began slowly paddling across the brown, glittering water of the swamp, paying no heed to the growing anger of the Naga beind him. A LEASH! That treacherous witch! But if she had truly given him what he wanted...Well, perhaps the Troll would turn out to be an asset. Or maybe just an annoyance. Szraezr slithered down to the temple's base and let himself fall into the brown water, bracing himself for the freezing cold, yet finding only the warm, silty water of the swamp's bay surrounding him and beginning to flow through his dried gills. As much as he had cursed it last night, the muddy water felt wonderous upon his scales. The Naga warlord allowed himself to float in the warm water for a moment, his body recovering from the dry conditions, before he began pumping his tail back and forth as it propelled him through the water, cresting it next to Tazinjzi's canoe in just moments.
"Ah good, ya all betta den?" The Troll said with a chuckle, not even bothering to look down.
"Fantastic" Szraezr growled as he lifted his head out of the water. The Troll chuckled again as they passed the corpses of his dead Thresh, already writhing with black flies and other carnivorous insects. It was a long swim back to the Leviathan, and maybe if he was lucky, the many-tentacled beast would eat the Troll. The best scenario, but unlikely. But it made for a nice mental distraction as the two reached the edge of the bay and began navigating the narrow, twisting channels of the swamp proper.
Either way it was going to be a long swim. But finally in the first long while, Szraezr was not worry. He had all the time in the world.
Last edited:
