From the Hidden City (Warhammer Lizardmen Temple-City Quest)

[Rovos]

Ganna 'ave a go because were 'ard enough

Big Boss Morg 'Eadchoppa was excited. Munta 'ad gathered all da boys together and gotten a right propah WAAAGH started. Munta might 'ave been a right sneaky git, but 'e knew how to get the most out of a propah scrap.

Now 'e and 'is boys of da 'Ard "Ead tribe were moving north. Some of do boys returning from there talked of big scaly things that were smashing any of da tribes that 'eaded that way. And that sounded like a propah scrap. So 'e had gathered all da boys and started moving. 'E wasn't going to miss out on a fight like that.

"OYE YA GITS GET A MOVE ON" 'e yelled punting the nearest snotling at da offending boys. "WEZE GOT GITS TO SMASH UP NORTH AND I WANT TO BE DA FIRST TO SMASH 'EM"

'E wanted to be da first to see these Scaly gits and 'ave a scrap. 'E hoped they 'ad big Skullz. 'E could make a right propah 'ead protectah out of that.

This was going to be a right propah WAAAGH alright.

AN: very short but i think this quest deserves some Omakes, also writing orks is much harder than i thought when i started this

 

[watcheye456]

Made an Omake. Of a few. either late of this turn or some decades later. Warning , I'm a mediocre writer


Have a shield

Work continues in the communal workshop in which all the leather and wood workers of the area had gathered, to work on their people processed needs. Under canopy of ancient trees and recently wrought roof works continues. Hide being turned into straps for handles and strings for clothing, wood worked into hunting gear and furniture for new homes.

That routine is interrupted by a new arrival. In of itself not a uncommon happenstance, there is always a new need. There is no need this time, something different. Someone different. A Scaled one visits crafts-people with an object under their arm, sternly ignoring all before intruding upon their place of craft and places their delivery upon nearest unoccupied surface. A desired commodity in such a place.

No explanation is given as the sudden guest turns away to leave.

"What is that supposed to be?" asks one of the younger makers. Leather maker, still screwing his tasks.

" A shield." A short and confusing answer. With no context or prior knowledge, only reduces comprehension in the room, as everyone stare at the flat amalgamate of wood and leather. Thankfully it was obvious to skink in question. Or perhaps expected by thy superiors. "Some of your warriors are training with some that we're borrowing, they will need some once we depart. Make your own."

Their piece said, challenge levied upon proud crafters of Vohlu, Scaled one departs at last. Leaving many in one room with new tool that they intend to master recreating and improving for the good of their fellow humans.



Settled with family

There was once a warrior. Said warrior name was Xhallu. Xhallu was born in a band of Vohlu that had chosen to depart protected lands of Zlatlan surroundings. First of many travels Xhallu had taken part in. As years passed he grew in age, skill and strength. Traveled between bands, between tribes, between many territories. Always useful, always joining the ones on move. And at the passing of third decade of his live, returned to home of his ancestors to see them changed from what was remembered and expected.

After many hard years on the move. Xhallu had grew to desire roots. Place to rest at and stay at. And Vohlu were becoming just that. A place with people worth defending, worth staying with. Food growing around not needing ventures to hunt down, animals close by taken care of and taking care in return. Solid walls and roof to fend of rain and predators, raised with hands of wisely guided humans.

Xhallu did not return alone. He did not lead people going this direction, but when they turned away, some kept going so he lead those. Some grew curious of stories, some wished to leave tribes they come from, others simply followed the most familiar. For Xhallu those that matter most were his three wife, of three different tribes, three different people that fell in love with him during his long travels. Seeing such stable community they decided to at last fulfill their dream of family.

Walls were raised, soil plowed, guard duty set, cattle directed and people meet. Soon with time and effort home was made in full. Soon home became busy with youth and cycle of growth, for there was not a time one of his wife was not bearing new life, cared by the others. Where once was a warrior guarding people on the move, now reminiscent old warrior guarding people at home, his grand family included. All caring for each other, always bickering and making up, supporting and challenging each other, as it right.

And although some looked upon with envy, most saw a man providing for those he cares and loves. Many good friendship were forge over events grant and humble, good and bad, mundane and exceptional. Nor was he last to do so either, for many had stopped their march of life and began cultivation of theirs family and home. And although people would always wonder and rove. To settle with family was a dream of countless. Many of which made it happen.



Tola

Another strike, another miss, another swipe, another parry, retaliation from both cut her flesh. Not enough to weaken or flail, but not for lack of skill form her opponent. Both made lesser due the overwhelming skill of her opponent. None of which was something her mind permitted to distract. Neither was the near-death exhaustion that began minutes ago.

All was deemed irrelevant. All that is, Is her and her opponent. Not the many wounds on her flesh, not the burning heat of overburdened lungs, nor even more desperate beats of her long frantic heart, Nor the sweat and blood covered skin turning her clothing in even more difficulty.

All of her muscle overworked, all her bones shaken, all her skills judged and forgotten under the blanked of focus if found un-useful. None of it got her closer to her task completion. As such it was shunted from her mind. Single task, single goal, endless path. Made even more clear in its impossibility every time it was attempted.

No such thoughts crossed her mind in this time, all that was found was instincts and drive, imposing direction upon motor functions and forcing her flesh to move towards perceived believe of progression. With obsinite-like-certainty of purpose found only on merger point of skill and challenge, her entire being had given itself fully upon current task with all that is physically possible and even further beyond.

And It Was Not Enough….

Strike, swipe, push, stab… all she had. All she had learned in her decade of progress, starting before half way thru her first decade of life. So much to prove, so much to live up to, so much to grow into.
It was not enough.

Parry, block, parry, dodge … no closer reaching her goal than at the beginning. Such a simple task in its vocalization. Just one strike, just one drop of blood to call her successful, to deem her worthy of her aspirations. As self imposed as it was, she was not denied… or technically permitted.

Alas, to draw blood from a Saurian warrior in single combat is not something a fifteen year old Tola could simply achieve by wanting it to happen. It is something that has to be willed into being by focus and dedication. If only she had means to back it up to match her drive to see it done.

The duel, if even could be called that, was little more than odd personal training session with admittedly focused warm blood, did not truly demand much of Loqil to perform without significant harm to opponent. While ensuring no lasting damage would be done to her, time was taken for study of this abnormality. Malign influence was dismissed, but so was intrinsic foolishness of immature humans. Nor was any of average skills of physical performance of his opponent. No, the anomaly was something far more familiar. The utmost dedication of focus, to a task at hand, that is the default state of Kroxigors at work or Saurus at war, that is currently leading this Tola towards completing task she had undertaken with total abandon.

What started as befuddlement, treatment turning into anger, felled into disbelief, threatened with existential anguish was slowly turning into something far more insidious. Incredulity.

It was brief. Barely having time to feel the change in emotional atmosphere, and having learned her opponent thru previous fights at previous days. Tola reacted on the change before its existence entered her perception. A gap in defense of Scaled legionnaire is as a spark within a tornado, ever moving, insanely obstructed and about to cease the moment it appears.

Yet, just this once, it was hit.

Nothing that would ever amount to anything in every other iteration of such even. Yet on this day the meaning was beyond symbolic.

A few lazy drops flew from parted space between two scales, slowly drawing a zigzagging line upon flesh of her opponent, that had actively fought many times longer than she was alive. Even as this event was taking place, the one responsible for it was losing the fight against its body, even further falling into emergency shutdown of certain bodily functions, now that relief had joined the fight.

Yet still, before the realm of unconsciousness had claimed Tola, a smile formed on her visage as she took in the fruits of her labors. Until at last relief did what exhaustion could not.

A single strike of her had stroke well enough to draw blood.

Whatever happens next , She'll consider it a greatest achievement of her life. Once she wakes.

Loqil on the other hand, had to admit. Teaching that one, may not by as frustrating as other warm bloods. No it will, he is certain she will find different ways to frustrate him. If only others could stop fretting over the past out juvenile.



First beekeeper

Gentle buzzing fills the fields. Numberless insects travel to and from in their Black and Yellow grace, caring matter of bloom back to their homes. Creating sweetness in mass greater than their collective needs.

Truly bees are a creatures of work and instinctual organization. Sure to follow expected path of behavior in response to preplanned actions.

Nothing impressive structurally speaking. A number of hollowed out stumps or short logs. Seven in total. Each housing its own hive of bees. Of species that so far tolerate each other presence yet are not precisely the same one, except for one that broke of another. Structural lack of capabilities means needs for partial disassembly during inspection and harvest. Resulting in smoke effects wearing off and stings being common.

Still. Vohlu reaction to knowledge that lord Wikel'mal manage to domesticate insects, was certainly unexpected, as is typical for warm bloods. Most though nothing of it, and majority of the rest had no intention to progress in the topic. There was one however, whose reaction had turned into inspiration.

His name was Polop, cousin to many including Mpho. Early into adulthood at time of migration, he was considered dependable if unspoken person. He was however interested in bugs and after having heard of domestication, had decided to invest some of his time to attempt doing so with local honey producing bees.

After multiple conversations with Zmilli'e learning all that was available. Equipped in knowledge that would make sense to someone without comprehension of magic, Popol had begun trial and error approach. After many iterations of bee-hive-homes, a stable one was finally developed. After convincing a bee queen to take residence in one and ensuring long term survival, he moved to the next. Some were lost, some were vacated after some time but over the years, basic level of competence was achieved. And now Popol, his mate and offspring's have the privilege of augmenting their diet with sweet and desirable honey which grants them certain benefits in settlement for sharing.

Beekeeping is expected to spread as his descendants and enterprising humans replicate said practice. Providing Vohlu with sugar reach food, possible preservative and reagent for certain medicines.

-End of report.

Zmilli'e read thru provided reports with neutral visage matching that of her chameleon sibling, bespite internal turmoil. Considering delivered reports and events that lead to their existence in the first place. While no true orders being made for them to look into Vohlu population. It had not stopped them from in their own words 'be useful'. So now she had to admit that some chameleon Skinks of Zlatlan found themselves bored while in the area and decided to check up on humans under our protection, much to her consternation… at least it's of some use. Did they always were so informal thou? They are not to others. Is it about me being a 'her'? Or did they developed prank mentality without anyone informing me?

"Will suffice for now, you may return to you duties" and give me time to process that. Zmilli'e though.