Colchis - 831.M30
Settra's lips curl into a faint, humorless smile. "Knowledge? Alliances? Power? These are the trappings of the living, fleeting and inconsequential. I have ruled for millennia, my will unbroken, my power absolute. What you offer is meaningless in the grand tapestry of my eternal reign."
You take a deep breath, stepping forward beside Lorgar.
"We stand before you, Settra, because we face a threat to all. Today, this necromancer seeks to curse our world and raise it as an undead mockery of what it was. Tomorrow, I believe, he seeks to claim dominion over all, both the dead and those yet to die. He is a coward, hiding behind others rather than fighting himself. Here, now, he seeks to use you, to make of you his shield. Come with us, and we shall punish him for his presumptions." you say.
Settra's eyes narrow slightly, a glint of interest sparking within their depths. You can sense that you have his attention, if only for a moment.
"Your words are bold, mortal, but I am not easily swayed by mere rhetoric." Settra finally says simply.
"We do not come before you as beggars, offering nothing but our pleas," you continue, your voice unwavering. "Consider this."
With a deliberate gesture, you reach down and scoop up a large lump of sand from the ground. Using your mastery of your abilities, you begin to channel your power. The sand glows with an intense heat, melting into liquid glass in your hands. With precise movements, you shape and mold the glass, condensing it into an articulated sculpture of a hawk, its wings poised as if in flight.
You hold the glass hawk aloft, and with another surge of power, you imbue it with movement. The glass wings beat rhythmically, and the hawk takes to the air, soaring gracefully around the assembled warriors. Its crystalline form catches the light, casting dazzling reflections across the desolate plain.
Settra watches, his expression inscrutable. "A clever trick," he murmurs, though there is a hint of admiration in his tone.
"But does it truly live?" you ask, your voice carrying a deeper meaning. You focus your essence once more, this time invoking a far more potent power. You draw upon Enuncia, the primal language of creation itself, the words forming in your mind with an almost painful clarity. The syllables feel like they could tear reality apart as they escape your lips.
"Keth," you intone, the words resonating with an otherworldly force.
The glass hawk shimmers, transforming before your eyes. Its crystalline feathers soften, becoming real and vibrant. The hawk lets out a piercing cry as it ascends higher, its wings beating under its own power. It is no longer a mere construct but a living, breathing creature, brought to life by the raw power of Enuncia.
"This is life," you declare, your voice ringing with conviction. "This is what I offer. In return for your magnanimity in coming with us to cast down this usurper, the necromancer, I will perform a working to make you live again, as glorious as you were when you first wore living flesh, if not more."
Settra's gaze remains fixed on the living hawk, now a mere speck in the sky. He seems to be lost in thought, the weight of your proposal sinking in. The skeletal warriors and mummified guards around him remain silent, awaiting their king's decision.
"You speak of granting life," Settra finally says, his voice contemplative. "A gift that I have long sought, yet never attained. To walk the world again as I once did, to feel the warmth of the sun and the breath of the wind..."
He trails off, the desire in his voice palpable. Yet, his expression hardens once more, his ancient pride asserting itself. "Your offer is tempting, but I am Settra the Imperishable. I do not kneel to others, nor do I ally with the living lightly."
You meet his gaze, unwavering. "We do not ask for your fealty, Settra. We seek your strength, your wisdom, and your power to defeat a common enemy. In return, we offer you the chance to reclaim what was once yours: life, in all its glory."
Settra remains silent for a long moment, weighing the gravity of your words. The air is thick with tension, each second stretching into an eternity. Finally, he speaks, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.
Settra's eyes, glowing with an ancient and unyielding fire, remain locked onto the transformed hawk as it soars high above. His silence speaks volumes, but you can feel the tumultuous thoughts churning beneath his regal facade.
"But you forget, mortal, that I am Settra the Imperishable. I have ruled, unchallenged and undefeated, for eons. What need have I for your gifts when my power is already absolute?" Settra finally intones, his voice laden with the weight of millennia.
His arrogance radiates like a tangible force, a testament to his indomitable will. Yet you sense that beneath the surface, there lies a kernel of doubt, a flicker of the life he once cherished.
You remain steadfast, undeterred by his pride. "Settra, this necromancer, the Shard of Winters, seeks to undermine your very essence. He aims to turn you into a mere instrument of his will, a puppet dancing on his strings. Will you allow such a travesty to befall you, the great king who bows to none?"
Settra's eyes narrow, the glint of anger mingling with his imperious demeanor. "You presume much, mortal, to think that I could ever be manipulated by a lesser being. My will is iron, my rule eternal. No one can command Settra the Imperishable."
"And yet, this necromancer seeks to do just that," you counter, your voice steady and unyielding. "He believes he can bend you to his will, to use you as a weapon in his conquest. He underestimates your strength, your resolve. But we do not. We recognize the true power that you wield, and we seek your aid to bring down this usurper."
Settra's expression remains inscrutable, his silence stretching into an oppressive weight. You sense that his thoughts are drifting back through the annals of time, recalling battles fought and victories won.
"You speak of an enemy that seeks to usurp my power," Settra says slowly, his voice tinged with a hint of contemplation. "An enemy who believes he can command me. I have faced many such foes, crushed them beneath my heel. This necromancer will fare no differently."
"He is no ordinary foe," you insist, your tone earnest. "This Shard of Winters wields dark magic that corrupts and controls. He seeks to turn the world into his undead dominion, a realm of eternal night where he reigns supreme. He has already laid waste to endless lands, leaving nothing but desolation in his wake. And now, he seeks to use you as the lynchpin of his conquest."
Settra's gaze hardens, the fire in his eyes burning brighter. "You dare suggest that I, Settra the Imperishable, could be used as a tool for another's ambition? That my will could be subjugated?"
"No," you reply firmly. "I dare suggest that you are the key to stopping him. That your unmatched power and indomitable will can turn the tide against this abomination. Stand with us, not as a subordinate, but as an ally. Together, we can bring down this necromancer and preserve your legacy."
Settra's eyes blaze with pride and fury, the weight of your words pressing upon him. He seems to waver, the ghost of indecision flickering across his regal features. You simply watch as Settra's expression darkens, the thought of Nagash stirring old memories. You can see the flashbacks in his eyes, the long, bloody conflict against the master of necromancy, the defiance that had fueled his every action. His pride and arrogance war with the realization of the threat before him.
"I remember the great battles I fought against Nagash," he says, invoking the name of his ancient foe. "Remembers the countless times I stood against the darkness, my unwavering will driving back the shadows. This necromancer is but a pale echo of that threat, yet he seeks to achieve what even Nagash could not. Can I allow him to succeed where others have failed?" He murmured to himself, lost in thought.
"You speak truth, mortal," Settra finally admits, his voice begrudging. "This Shard of Winters must be dealt with. But know this: I do not join you out of weakness or need. I join because this necromancer's audacity offends me. I will see him destroyed, his ambitions crushed beneath my heel."
He steps forward, his towering presence imposing. "But I demand a price for my aid. Teach me the secrets of the primal language you spoke in. With that power, I will not only assist you in slaying this foul necromancer, but I will also declare a ceasefire against you and yours until our mutual foe is vanquished. Once the Shard of Winters is no more, I will return to my homeland, reclaim my throne, and restore my dominion. And then, once my reign is secure, we shall settle the matter of your insult to my pride."
You meet his gaze, recognizing the gravity of his request. To teach Enuncia is to share a power that can reshape reality itself, a dangerous and potent gift. But you also understand that this is the price of securing Settra's formidable aid.
CHOICE:
[] "Teach" him
[] Do not "teach" him
This will take one full day. Then you will have only one more day before the mask can actively attack you and your people.
