The tlacochalatl kneels before the stone altar, [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PToCbU-3_y4]stained with ancient blood[/url]. Watched by the empty sockets of the thousands of skulls on the racks hanging from the walls of the House of Darts, Achcautli, naked from the waist up, his body covered in ritual warpaint, raises a dagger of black obsidian, as the song of war is sung. Thick white smoke rises from the braziers surrounding him, and along with the many skulls the weapons of all the fallen Mictlan warriors and of their slain foes stand as an eternal testimony to the gods alone. The black dagger is raised with both hands, and the tlacochalatl swiftly cuts his palm, letting a few drops of warm blood fall onto his face. Rythmically and with a deep voice, the sacred chant is sung, and the voices of the dead echo in the House of Darts. 

Tezcoaaz,
Titlapalloaz,
Tl imitzcalco, 
Amo can canin
Tiaz huel itzcalco.

Tla xihuallauh ce Tecpatl:
Tezcoaaz, 
Titlapalloaz.
Tla xihuallauh Tlaltecuin.

[hr]

"My lord, a FTL message incoming from the HSD Weaver." The robotic voice of the A.I. rings in the Captain's Quarters. "Let me hear it, Tlahuizcalli."

[hr]

"Eztli, Ichtaca." "Yes, tlacochalatl." The two warriors kneel before their commander. One, a tall, huge warrior, his armor painted in deep red and adorned with ocelot pelts, fangs, and long brown feathers; the other, much thinner, wearing a mantle covered in eagle feathers and beaks, his armor painted with a dark green intricate mimetic pattern. The control room is empty, and the sound of their voices echo in the darkness. "You are my tlacateccah. As such, to me you are more than children. Know that we will have to follow a fake leader for this war; for now, we play along, and in fact, this might be an advantage for us. Be alert, and keep the Cuaciqueh ready as well. We shall strike soon. Dismissed."