POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"Em!" He cried, his attention momentarily diverted as he pinned the skaven-mage. The thing saw its opportunity and bit into his arm, drawing blood and making him cry out in pain. The skaven would regret that, as his eyes fell fully on the thing and the vermin quelled beneath his gaze. It was less than a second before Amal had it on its feet and his dagger pressed to its throat much like Emmaline's attacker, only his dagger was not immobilized.

"Wait wait you fools!" The skaven cried to its comrades streaming towards them. Uneasily they stopped, tails twitching in irritation. As the battle raged on, Amal pressed the dagger more firmly against it. "Give me a good reason why I should not cut your throat and bleed you on the ground." He asked it in Reikspiel, nearly as broken and uneasy on his tongue as it was with the Skaven's own grasp of the language.

"Hold, stupid man-thing!" It said, wriggling in agitation. "Please listen! The orb controls the city. If I do not handle it soon, everything could blow sky high! Unpredictable! Big big explosion cablooey!"

Behind them the orb grew more volatile, the lightning within it growing brighter and larger. Amal glanced back at it, and his eyes went to Emmaline. He wasn't going to let anything happen to her or the Lizards if he could help it. Forming a quick idea, he clicked his tongue twice. Out of his sack poked the carpet curiously. Amal's grip on the Skaven relaxed for a moment, letting the thing breathe out in relief.

That was before Amal picked up the fat rat in his hands and lifted him over his head.

"You wish to handle this thing!?" He cried to the rat now squirming in terror.

"Kill kill the man-thing! Hurry hurry!" It screeched, but he was too late. Amal placed his foot on the wall of the well and tossed the skaven below just under the orb, its screams echoing as it fell an uncomfortably long time. lizard and Rats clawed and mauled one another, oblivious to what was occuring. The Skaven who had halted looked to one another, confused. Amal grimly picked up the Sorcerer's staff in both hands, and wound up. An instant before the staff struck the orb, the rats realized their doom.

FWACK

The Orb wobbled, trying to stay aloft as cracks began to appear on its outer shell. The light seeping out of it in increasing frequency. Amal had not stuck around to watch, having hopped on the carpet to speed over the battle that looked to be dying down. The Skaven seemed too preoccupied with filling the square, but the Lizardmen had suddenly begun to ignore them. They knelt before the Orb as it began to glow like the sun, bowing their heads. Amal didn't know if they were suicidal or if they knew something the Skaven didn't. He zipped over to Emmaline and grabbed the immobilized arm of the would-be assassin, cautiously moving the arms away from her neck. He held out his hand for her to take.

"Are you going to stand there and look beautiful alone, or will you join me on this magic carpet?" He asked her easily.

In the background, lightning the size of tree trunks began to discharge across the town square, originating from the orb. It cut through the Skaven like so much chaff, missing the prostrated Lizardmen by mere inches in some cases, bouncing from ratmant to ratman in a furious assault. As precise as it was, the lightning struck and sundered stone, causing buildings to collapse in its wake. Little did Amal know(though Emmaline could rightly guess) that the light had won within the orb. Amal striking with the staff had caused it to oppose the stave's darkness, increasing the light and fulfilling its purpose.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

This wasn't Amal's first time in a dangerous situation, but he had to admit the ratmen swarmed like locusts. It took all of his skill to keep their gnashing teeth and bladed weapons from cutting off anything vital, though he was nicked and gashed a dozen times over. Twice he had to relocate and leap over carefully lain stone blocks and bronze outcroppings to stem the tide as more and more skaven ascended to his level and went after him. He slit a pursuing ratman's throat, making that his seventh kill. He felt pretty good about his tally so far, wondering if Emmaline was watching.

There was a flash that had even the vermin that chased him distracted, and he couldn't help but glance upwards as well to see Emmaline summon a power that would have given Settra pause, scything a beam of energy through multitudes of the spewing horde that still tried to claw its way out of the ground below. It boiled a ratman-like giant alive and burned through scores of the clanrats.

Well, perhaps he wasn't that impressive. But he'd saved her life many times before, right? Only fair that she paid it all back now in one great sweep. Good timing too, as the lizardmen began to reform, a few of the skinks and a Saurus warrior having been overwhelmed and hacked to death not moments before. In the square, as Amal was eviscerating a still distracted Skaven, an orb of light and darkness lifted up with an eerie slowness.

Monk rats covered in mucus and bandages were now among the throng, screeching like banshees and loping into the lines of the lizardmen, hacking with rotted clubs and vomiting on them. To their credit the Lizardmen handled it quite well, as the vomit seemed to eat through the stone beneath them and the Lizardmen seemed only somewhat effected by the strange vileness that erupted from their throats.

Behind them, a darkly clad ratman with horns curled around a grey skull-cap rushed forward, letting the minions distract and shield his movements as he tried to make his way towards the sphere. Amal turned to look back at Emmaline and saw the fear in her eyes, and came to the conclusion that it would be a bad thing were he to obtain it. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Amal gave her a fierce grin that spoke volumes.

"Amal!" She cried, but he had already leaped off the ziggurat's lower level, landing atop the sweeping tide of fur and scuttling. To her amazement, he never touched the ground. Expertly he leaped from skaven to skaven, running over the advancing skaven like they were rocks amid a flowing river. Furious seconds passed until he reached the edge, and with one great, savage leap the Arabyan flew off the vermin army and tackled the Skaven shaman just before he reached the orb, wrestling with the strange creature and trying to pry its eldritch staff out of its hands.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The structure of the ziggurat rocked, nearly sending Emmaline over had Amal not caught her. T'Krit held on but a few of the other skinks were knocked off to hit the next level, relatively safely considering it was only a floor down due to the architecture shape of the building. Amal and Emmaline watched as rats poured out of the machine, all of the vermin covered in filth and puss and screeching to one another. In the dancing light of the torches, they seemed like a demonic tide of fur and grease that would roll over and devour anything in their path.

Outnumbered at least five to one, the Lizardmen didn't flinch or hesitate. Sor'Khan raised his axe and pointed at the horde of screaming skaven, roaring to his kid as they formed up. The Saurus and the red skinks rallied to him swiftly; the latter now equipped with impressive bronze maces they wielded with two hands. The rest of the skinks swarmed around the Kroxigor, who himself picked up one of the large slabs of bronze he had carried earlier and now held it like a club and bellowed, its roar echoing across the deserted walls of the temple city.

Sor'Khan charged forth, meeting the rat-tide head first, leaping like a raptor into the clanrats. His first swing cut down a skaven effortlessly, his tail whipping to send another flying. The other Saurus and red skinks swung with deft precision that Amal knew bested even the Sultan's finest troops. But the ratment nibbled, bit, and stabbed with their crude scimitars and spears, washing into the Lizardmen like a virus.

A thread of the ratmen's line turned and began to make their way toward the ziggurat, reaching the bottom and climbing over themselves trying to make it up. Amal was concerned for that, but it seemed T'Krit was focused solely on the battle of his people. "Ackt'a vol en te Ackt'a! He incanted, lightning now dancing upon the edge of his staff. To Amal, the lightning looked like it leaped away from the staff to rain upon the skaven, burning flesh and fur and felling twenty of the monsters.

As the ratmen began to climb upwards, Amal casually placed his foot on the slab they used to feast and with a will he shoved it down to the lower level, crushing four rats with an audiblt `squish.` A spear was thrown their way, flying right at Emmaline. On instinct Amal caught it a mere moment before it pierced her stomach. "You need to be more careful," He said in Arabyan. He turned the spear and tossed it at one of the rats, stabbing into it. Amal sighed.

"Only fifteen left," He said, though he had a grin on his face as he did the last thing the rats and Emmaline expected. He leaped into the mass of vermin below them, hacking and stabbing.
@Penny

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

Ali had heard of Hunters of the Horn. Many of them were braggarts and boisterous, but others were dangerous and sly, using subterfuge to find what they sought. If you asked Ali the Horn of Valere was just an old wive's tale made up to amuse the masses like his little sisters back on the farm.

Perhaps Ali wasn't as innocent as some might think, but he was a particularly bad liar. His eyes widened as large as he dared let them when Mave gave them a fake name, and he cleared his throat as if he had something caught in it before he could spit his alias out. "Darian. Erm, I'm an Andorman and this is...Kashvi is my..." He looked at her for help and she caught his eye, her brow lowering and her eyes indicating to say whatever.

"She's my fiance." He said, causing Mave to blush, which in turn had him doing the same. "We met at a festival back home in Caemlyn, one thing led to another."

Before the two of them could speak again, the husky fellow clapped them both on the shoulder, smiling as widely as a cawing crow. "Congratulations, my new friends. Glad you snatched her up because she's a real beauty, my boy. So! I see you two have heard the rumors eh?"

"Uh, we've heard a few...? What-which rumor are you referring to, exactly?" Ali said. The man was bumbling and jovial enough to keep speaking it seemed. He barked a laugh and elbowed Ali, shoving the breath out of his tall form. "You know! The horn..." He began to suddenly whisper as if anyone who had already been listening would stop now. "They say the Horn is in Illian near the Palace. Here or the Stone of Tear are the two top stories so I hear. Good thing too. Taking a trip to Tear might be easy if you board an Illian ship or with the Sea Folk."

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The city had nearly had Amal, who had fought Tomb Kings and Stone Guardians, fainting. Never in all of his years did he believe there was this much gold in the entire world. And now he stood among pillars of pure gold, just beyond the scope of buildings made of gold and bronze that towered like pyramids into the sky. It all shined as vibrantly as Emmaline's hair in the morning sun, and Amal knew then and there what he was going to do.

He was going to steal at least his weight in the stuff.

Of course not now. Even a mongoose does not strike without deliberation. But when they were going to leave, he was going to grab a sizeable portion so he could live like a king.

Behind him, T'Krit and Emmaline hissed and growled at one another and he turned, taking out of his amazement and schemeing to notice the exchange. Her powers never ceased to amaze him, and moments later Emmaline poked his head with the gem. It was hurried so she accidentally bumped his forehead. It didn't hurt but had him dazed for a second as the two began to hiss again, only for the language to slowly grow intelligible.

"Am I not the prophet of Sotek?" Emmaline asked, crossing her arms and looking down at the shorter skink passed her nose. The thing gave a low reverberating groan that shook its entire body, and somehow Amal knew that was it's version of showing frustration. Emmaline continued. "He is my mate and I deem he can be blessed with the old tongue."

"The Great Plan does not include him!" T'Krit cried. To the side, Lizardmen began to search through the ruins shoulder to shoulder, the red skinks sticking together and scuttling along the wide avenues and dikes that bisected the city. No doubt they looked for the ratmen or any other chaos-beast that might have begun to take refuge in the abandoned city. For Emmaline's part, she paused, and then snapped back like a whip. "Do you know all of the Great Plan?"

"Well...er, no."

"Then until you can prove to me he is not to be here, he is to be given due respect and blessings. Is that clear?"

"Yes yes. Perhaps you are right." T'Krit conceded, though still clearly annoyed. "His fight with Sar'kahn was lent by the favor of the Old Ones. He may have a part to play, yes. Very well."

The next few hours went by swiftly. Amal and Emmaline didn't get any alone time during, but they almost didn't mind. The city was safe from danger by the sweeps of the Lizardmen, and the Kroxigor had gone hard at work to move large stones and golden pillars towards the center square of the city, reshaping the patterns into a strange shape that seemed almost like a constellation Amal had heard of before. Meanwhile, Amal and Emmaline had been led within the main ziggurat that loomed over the rest of the city. Inside the golden and stone structure were many sectioned chambers in the upper levels where one might sleep or rest and feast. Some rooms were simply filled with plaques and eldritch items and what looked like ancient machinery that boggled the mind. Below, the ziggurat held one vast central chamber that housed a place of power. To Amal they looked like simply ruins, but Emmaline's sight found a gateway into infinity. A portal that could lead people across the world through an inner-dimensional gate, and one might travel beyond the borders of the world if done correctly. The magic that exuded from it could power the most potent of spells, and the sorceress knew then that if she pulled too much in it could kill her, shattering her form into a thousand pieces. But used correctly, she could wield powers that could river the mages of Ulthuan.

Night soon fell, and Emmaline (with Amal sitting behind her) sat on the 3rd floor of the Ziggurat, with her plumed hat on, which T'Krit believed was similar to his headdress, and a feast was presented before them. Freshly butchered and cooked meat amid a myriad of vegetables and fruit and clear golden cups of water had been presented to the Prophetess, with T'Krit's seat on her left and Amal's on her right. Below, the Lizardmen had decided to honor her with blood sports, with the Saurus warriors fighting until first blood beneath ruins and beside the piles of material the Kroxigor had moved.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

To say that Amal was getting annoyed was an understatement. He did not think of these creatures as the aristocrats of his country, but they paid him as much heed as an Emir, and would split him in half if he got in their way at all. The lizards all stopped in a circle as earlier by the pool, but after a small discussion in their strange tongue, many of the smaller beasts Emmaline began to refer to as skinks loped over to the foodstuffs, save for the leader.

Satisfied for now that they wouldn't butcher Emmaline indiscriminately, Amal followed the skinks over to the strange assortments of fruits and salted meats. He sat next to them, all having knelt to munch on the edibles without hesitation. The Saurus he had fought knelt beside him, chomping into an aged leg of meat. Amal could not tell if the thing was looking at him as it ate, or if its eyes simply gazed outwards blandly.

Meanwhile, T'krit called for what Emmaline now knew was a Kroxigor to wade into the translucent pool. The mighty humanoid seemed hesitant, but after another urging it stepped into the waters, careful as it could. Slowly it lifted its arms and grabbed Emmaline gently, and she suddenly realized it was placing her inside the pool! The magics in the water nearly blinded her magesight, and it seemed to reach up and grab her with its energies.

Once her body was dipped into the pool, there was a hush that fell over the room that Amal could almost feel in the air, and he turned to watch in amazement. Around Emmaline, bubbles began to form. Out of the twirling waters rose ten figures; skinks. Red of skin and slightly larger than the normal, with blue frills along their backs. On their body was a sleek coating as if they had hatched from eggs beneath the waters.

It was almost comical, watching Emmaline standing in the middle of the pool wide eyed in some primordial ritual that spawned strange reptilian beasts. T'krit let out a cry of triumph, and then began to shake his stick once again that caused a rumbling in the cavern stone. Emmaline squealed and got out of the pool as quickly as she could, the clothes hugging her skin as a separate tunnel entrance suddenly opened with a slow grinding of rock.

Amal found himself just next to the opening tunnel, and he flinched as it slid, sunlight pouring into the dim cave. He covered his eyes with his hand, squinting from the light. His eyes adjusted to reveal a sight he had never seen in his entire life. It was the second most beautiful thing he had ever seen, above the crown of Settra and below Emmaline's naked body. It was a city of collected ziggurats and statues of frog-like overlords. Great obelisks twice the size of the Kroxigor stood vigilant in strange patterns along the town square. It wasn't the architecture or the statues that made it beautiful to Amal, no.

The city was made of pure gold.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Amal briefly considered denying the challenge so as to sneak into wherever they were going later and take Emmaline away in the darkness, but he dismissed it. She could be dead by then, or he could find no other route within. So he beat his chest in acceptance and crouched, ready to fight this monster. He did his best to hide his apprehension, because his fighting instincts screamed at him. He honestly would have rather fought the brute Emmaline still sat upon, at least with him he could outpace him. The thing in front of him seemed purpose bred to be the perfect killing machine. Well, Amal had fought worse before.

The other four warrior lizards began to stomp, incanting the word. "Saurus!" before stomping twice and repeating "Saurus!" He had the inkling that was their 'type' of breed and not the thing's name, judging by the sounds they emitted. He didn't have time to ponder as the Saurus charged him, moving so rapidly he knew then and there he had little to no chance of outpacing it. The lizardman leaped eight feet in the air and swung his axe down to smash into the dirt, Amal having rolled out of the way. The thief kicked at the thing's shin, but it barely brunted and attempted to snap Amal's leg in half. Quickly he curled the appendage away and rolled backward. Once upright, he threw the dagger at the Saurus, who to his horror was quick enough to knock aside it with his shield midflight.

"Damn!"

The Saurus spun, its tail whipping out and slicing a razor line across Amal's abdomen as the man had risen. He expelled air out of his lungs in surprise, but he didn't cry out. Instead he took the initiative, hoping to bewilder the thing with some acrobatics. He pulled out the second dagger and leaped, flipping in a cartwheel and pressing off the soft ground, launching to the left to clean a vicious swipe of the thing's axe. Handily, he caught the shield in the Saurus' grip as he flew, nearly yanking it out of the thing's hand with the pull of Amal's body weight. When that didn't work, he used the reverse momentum to kick the beast in the face. It's head snapped to the side for a moment, a small trickle of blood seeping out of its maw before it hissed and pushed back. Amal lost his balance and hit the dirt two meters away, winded and nearly out of tricks. All he'd managed to do was crack a tooth or two.

He regained his feet swiftly, but the Saurus was already upon him. It sliced it axe horizontally, and for one terrifying moment it seemed as if he had cut Amal clean in half. But the cunning Arabyan had arched his back and dodged the blow, now inside the thing's defenses. He jumped up and sent his short sword into the warrior's neck, piercing scales as it dug into its flesh. The Saurus stopped midmovement, paralyzed as Amal tore his sword out of it and backpedeled so it didn't take advantage and tear his neck open with its teeth.

Amal, bleeding and tired, had the horrible realization the thing wasn't dead. In fact, after a few moments it straightened and regained its posture. If these things gathered in an army, they could sweep over Araby without much difficulty! Emmaline gasped, and the Arabyan was ready to die fighting when the Saurus dropped its axe and shield, and knelt humbly.

"Zalleecha inacta! Zalleecha inacta!" T'krit cried.

"You're worthy!" Emmaline called in relief.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The massive lizardman who held the lantern in its jaws bent down and picked up Emmaline to rest on his huge shoulder, the ridges of his armor-like skin poking her uncomfortably but moving or wriggling would send her falling nine feet into the root covered ground. Amal had been ready to stab the thing in the back, but once he realized he was merely carrying her he held his weapon back from striking. What he did not expect was the entire contingent turning face and walking back into the jungle with Emmaline, the lead lizard in the headdress leading the way.

"HEY!" Amal cried and followed them, annoyed they ignored him and worried they were going to sacrifice Emmaline to some forsaken god. It was lucky that they paid him no mind in an aggressive manner, either. They simply ignored his existence, even when he came close enough to brush one of the warrior Lizardmen's serpent-like tail, the skin dried and cold along his lower leg. It simply looked back and bared its fangs in a warning, but didn't turn to try and rip him open.

What seemed like hours passed as the group of man-lizards trekked and waded expertly, moving as an inexorable force. Amal marveled at their stamina, as through the night they neither slowed or showed any discomfort to the jungle around them. Amal felt like the prime meal for the large bugs that landed and bit onto his skin. Even the little ones leaped and hopped above the larger roots, only pausing to flit their eyes and heads in an alien fashion before continuing on. Soon they found the jungle receding and the ground was now simply filled with weeds and low reeds, the group now coming upon a moderately sized pool of water, collected by a waterfall from a strange, carved cliff. In the light of the rising sun, Amal could see the faintest outlines of strange statues and heiroglyphs behind the moss and water above them.

Gathered around, the lizardmen formed a huddle and discussed in grunts and roars that seemed almost intelligible. As if it was a theatrical performance, the priest-like lizard stepped out of the group and began waving his gecko-like arms, thrusting its hips this way and that in a strange and unabashedly suggestive dance as the others cried. "Sotek! Sotek! Sotek! Sotek!" In its hand was a staff with a frog-like figure head at the top, and he shook it with delight as it began to glow like a small star.

The waterfall almost imperceptibly began to recede in its flow, slowing to smaller trickles that unveiled an ancient stone tunnel in the shape of a vast serpent's mouth, complete with stone fangs framing the entryway. It was chasmic enough so that Emmaline and her 'steed' could walk in without needing to duck.

The lead lizard began to shake its butt and strut towards the entrance, the others beginning to follow. Amal's eyes locked on Emmaline who looked frazzled but otherwise unharmed. The Arabyan took a few steps further, the Lizards all stopped as if he had personally stomped upon each of their tails, and they turned to look at him in unison. It was difficult to see any emotion on their faces, but judging by the looks of things, he was finally not welcome to follow them within.

"If you think you can skip hop in there with her and leave me out here, you've got large imaginations for walking crocodiles." He said haughtily, crossing his arms. To his displeasure, they made no sound or movement at all. They simply watched him, which was unnerving after a few moments. Ever the rebel, he decided to suddenly jerk to the left and right, and still they didn't move. "Hmmm..." He whispered, and decided to take a step forward.

Immediately the lizard's weapons were bared and ready, Amal mirroring the movement lightning quick with the short sword and a dagger in his offhand.

"Zalleench." The gecko-like leader squawked, looking at Emmaline before bobbing its head to the others. "Zalleench!" Somehow, Emmaline could understand it's meaning: Challenge.

"Zaaalleench! Zaaalleench! Zaaalleench! Zaaalleench!" During the chanting, one of the warrior lizards stepped forward. In the light of the sun, it looked less ominous but even more formidable. A powerfully built warrior organism, cold intelligence in its eyes. It was a pure predator of unrelenting energy. In the march the things had moved deceptively sluggishly, but here it's leap forward was lightning quick. As its tail lashed like a whip, Amal saw it armed with an obsidian headed axe and a shield made of the hide of a mighty beast.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

This coastline was unlike anything Amal had seen on the myriad of maps shown in the bazaars. Or was it? He vaguely recalled something akin to this place, roughly, but he was so battle fueled and blue balled that he couldn't think straight. He took deep breathes and calmed himself, but still it didn't come to him. "If there are not, at least there will be shelter," He said. Most people might think that questionable, but three walls and a roof was a luxury for him back in Araby.

He memorized the closest pyramid-settlement, and where they likely were roughly considering the lines that indicated from the ship not half a mile away. "There could be more ratmen between us and the city, not to mention in the city. But it's worth a look." Briefly he wondered about going in alone, since he was used to moving silently. But the jungle was new terrain for him, and he couldn't risk leaving Emmaline here alone. Feelings were so very limiting sometimes, but he found he wouldn't have it another way.

He found her looking flustered and understandably scared at the notion. She had many strengths he wish he had, but when it came to dangerous situations like this, peril was an old friend to Amal. The thief took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, lifting it up to kiss it. "You will be safe." He told her, and she calmed with an uneasy smile. "Very soon, we'll make it back to where we came from. We'll have food, wine, riches, and I'll fuck you on silk sheets."

The pleasant thoughts coupled with her serpent coiling about her arm and solidifying in a golden arm ring gave her new strength. The carpet now rolled within the rucksack, the two rogues entered the jungle proper. Less than a minute of bumbling through leaves passed, and Amal asked for the short sword so he could better chop through the vines. Even at the edge of it, the jungle was impossibly thick and teeming with noises from all around. Chirps and chitters were backdrop noises to hisses and ribbits all around them. It was so dark in there it felt like they had been thrown underwater again, but their eyes adjusted just well enough to see without bumping into most roots and critters.

The trees were strange in texture and differed every few feet, from palm trees to jungled trees with strange leaves of all different sizes. The humidity was still a new experience for the Arabyan, and he could only imagine it in the daytime. Something sinuous and snake-like but furred slid passed his foot, scuttling away as soon as he touched it. He cursed in Arabyan and chopped through another collection of vines, causing a bird to screech like a dying woman and fly away.

Amal held his hand back, bumping Emmaline's breasts. He steeled his mind from the thought of them and whispered. "Hold." to her, and both stopped for a moment, having realized the jungle's noises had died down save for a familiar noise that began to spread to all around them. A rat-like tittering that filled the jungle, and the smell returned ten fold. Immediately Amal looked for a tree to climb, grabbing Emmaline's waist only for another noise to sound in the jungle. It was a guttural and brutish `rup-rup-rup-rup` followed by an increasing amount of growls and roars. The trees around them seemed a flimsy wall from the noises that erupted just meters away from them, roars and terrified squeaks and cries of near human-like terror. Amal couldn't see anything, but he could smell blood in the air and he knew even without that terrible violence was being wrought for an agonizing amount of time.

After one last screech, the noises ceased utterly. Amal held Emmaline close, not daring to breath. Suddenly, a light materialized before their eyes, shadows dancing off the face that held it in its massive jaws. Even Amal was frightened when he saw the hulking creature, nearly twice the height of a man with a crocidilian head that could snap a tree in half, with thick limbs that could break stone walls with ease. Soon smaller reptilian's appeared, though they were still head and shoulders taller than men, deadly in appearance and baring fangs and claws that could rend stone and pierce mail. They held strange bronze and black steeled weapons, coated with blood and matted fur from slaying ratmen. Finally, a multitude of smaller lizardmen stood between and beside them, the size of the ratmen with large eyes and frills along their arms and heads. There had to have been three dozen of them, the majority comprised of the smaller creatures.

"Do you have a plan?" Amal and Emmaline asked one another simultaneously.

A diminutive smaller lizardman, with a headdress that looked just as extravagant as Emmaline's pocketed plumed tricone, only with even more feathers strode forth. It opened its mouth and hissed, splaying its arms as wide as it could. In the darkness it would hard to see its tiny teeth were it not for the light right upon him. It tilted its head and regarded Emmaline, before pointing at her.

"Sotek." Was all it said.

Ennui for Yesteryear... Old Rp Partners that have Gone

Usually I'm the nostalgic type but the past few years on the guild have been the most fun I've had in roleplaying.