- Pronouns
- He/Him/It
Really the only "humans" capable of speaking to slaan are primarchs and the Emperor. And a custodes but thats a BIG maybe. Probably. Custodes are weird.
Respect Your Elders v2 - Galactic Boogaloo [Warhammer Lizardmen Quest]
- Thread starter Xantalos
- Start date
- Sci-Fi Fantasy
-
- Tags
- warhammer warhammer 40k fantasy sci-fi science fantasy science-fantasy kitchen sink space fantasy isha kroak (warhammer fantasy) mazdamundi (warhammer fantasy) magic empire quest actions have consequences dinosaurs ia ia kroak fhtagn lasers lizardmen qm likes speculation and questions slann what could possibly go wrong?
- Location
- United states of america
[X] Potec - Old One of Serenity and Protection
*insert warframe OST *to take away its pain*
*insert warframe OST *to take away its pain*
Jensaarai
Sing Victory Everlasting
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Why would we introduce a human to the Relic Priests though?
DocMatoi
Theoretical Lover of Girls
- Location
- within 2 hours of the White House
- Pronouns
- They/Them
to see what happens, duh
Jensaarai
Sing Victory Everlasting
- Pronouns
- They/Them
... Fair enough; carry on!
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
You mean like knowledge of their actual domains and such? If so, not really - they're sorta aware of what the cadai and cytharai were like, but not any technical details.
Aye, when your available time can be classified both as infinite and non-existent, you really tend to dispense with anything even vaguely resembling pleasantries. It'd be one hell of a trip, though.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
An Eldar, especially one of some note, might be possible in terms of handling it.
Sort of, like their names and basic areas.
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BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
- Pronouns
- He
Considering that the Custodes (will) guard the Black Cells beneath the Imperial Palace, we can assume that they can deal with psychic fuckery. If only by calling in the Sisters of Silence. Those are pretty good at ruining our shit.
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I want to put a naughty Imperial Inquisitor through the Relic Priest wiggler and see what funny sounds they make.
More clearly, the knowledge about the cosmos possessed by the Relic Priests may be helpful if shared with those who also fight the Enemy. And the funny sounds those visitors will make will be an immense joy to me.
SneakyWalrus
Is the Water Free?
Inquisitor Kryptman: "The Tyranids are not some mere conglomerate of creatures or tyrannical species, they are inherent elements that bend to the will of a single, endlessly hungering mind seeking to undo our existence and that of the galaxy to bend it to it's own ravenous hunger and unknowable command!"
Inquisitor in charge of researching the Lizardmen: "First time, huh?"
Also, the fact that each section of the update has either music related to the Old Ones of Lovecraft or Dark Souls literally made me do a Minecraft Villager 'Hmmm' noise upon reading it. It's funny how this hits on a part of 40k that is entirely missing from the actual universal canon but actually does a whole lot to add to the overarching universe.
Inquisitor in charge of researching the Lizardmen: "First time, huh?"
Also, the fact that each section of the update has either music related to the Old Ones of Lovecraft or Dark Souls literally made me do a Minecraft Villager 'Hmmm' noise upon reading it. It's funny how this hits on a part of 40k that is entirely missing from the actual universal canon but actually does a whole lot to add to the overarching universe.
Hmm, actually if we had a match-up between some of the 40k factions, what would be the outcomes of any of the fights between us and them be. Besides, of course, us stomping the hell out of them, or using the same number of troops a Tyranid swarm would love to get their grubby claws on.
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I'm just reminded of that one Saurus Spawning Cannon meme from earlier in the thread. It really kind of varies and is difficult to judge, but we're likely to be the best at magic/Warp stuff, similar to how the Necrons have superiority over the material world and physics breaking trans-light inertial drives.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Impossible to tell. I mean, if you're assuming relative equal numbers, than you get into hero units, psychic power available, is it on defensive or offensive ground, how much Geomantic Web is available, what is our current tech.
As is? We'd lose to any and all factions worth a note and some barely worth a mention, because while our power car exceeds a lot of our state factors, we're confined to a single planet. The others are in their hundreds of billions at the least, and the quadrillions for the higher ones and fuck you, numbers, for the highest.
We are not, just, not on that scale yet.
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Turn 13 - The Primordial Imperative
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Prepare Geomantic Rituals (Mazdamundi, 15 Fourth Spawning slann)
- Magnitude 2+1 Uax Detonating Ritual - Itza. Lord Mazdamundi will perform this ritual. Use Gardakka to destroy all orks in the known ork territories on the central continent. Subject to the requirement that all known ork territories be covered, spread the zone of effect along a narrow strip along the northern coast as far as possible, wrapping around the central continent, in case any minor ork lodgements still loyal to Gardakka remain unknown to us.
From afar, the cities of the lizardmen resembled mountain ranges. The walls at their base jutted up starkly from the surrounding jungle, obscuring much of the activity and smaller buildings within. Arrays of radiance shone out from their monolithic shape of black stone, protective sigils shimmering in and out of sight. The shapes of the defensive garrisons on and within the walls could be made out, manning glowing weapons and establishing sightlines on potential approaches to the city. Massive gates were hubs of activity, with whole regiments of guards operating quarantine blockades for those lizardmen re-entering the city, skink priests performing magical scans to prevent infiltration by Ayacmanik hosts while sentries kept watch from atop the walls through riflescope.
Extending above the walls were the taller, grander buildings of the city – spellforge complexes, temples to the gods and altars of the Old Ones, accommodations for important skink priests or visiting slann. Many of these buildings had detached themselves from the ground, either wholly or in part, and were connected to the rest of the city solely by strands of iridescent light emanating from their bases, like the ejecta from a rocket. They raised and lowered themselves according to the needs of the occupants within them – some, like the pyramids of slann involved in one experiment or another, were able to transport materials or individuals up and down the beams of energy extending from their bases. Grand auras of magical static could frequently be seen accumulating around buildings at this level, giving the resemblance of snow on a mountain's slopes.
Towering above even these were the oldest and most important ziggurats in a temple-city, looming monsters with thousands of steps and dozens of individual levels. Relic Vaults. Slann debate halls. Housing for the ruler of the city and their army of Temple Guard. Temples that housed golden tablets, pyramids that hid the core infrastructure of a city from prying eyes, and one peak rising above all others, the place where in olden days, the silver ships of the Old Ones would descend from the heavens to give instruction. These pyramids were built on the scale of great hills and held together with architecture that would last millennia without maintenance or magical aid. They were present in even the meanest outposts of the lizardmen empire, and as the cities got bigger, their height increased, establishing the skyline of the city in a way nothing else could.
Itza's central pyramid was tall enough that small layers of clouds formed around its slopes, and its own peculiar climate held sway on the long walk up its many hundreds of levels. A clammy, cold skin of air that was just damp enough to form dew on the scales when moved through clung to the pyramid, and no wind disturbed its currents – no matter how high one went, the only thing that could be felt was a slight thickening of the air. To reach its final stretch of ten thousand steps required navigation of much of the interior, each level filled to the brim with Temple Guard on high alert. To make it up that final stretch was perhaps a greater challenge than the entire rest of the building, however; the spatial geometry of the climb could be manipulated by its defenders, causing any enemy to have to climb for days to reach the top, all while pushing through layers of solidified air and enduring the attention of irate slann.
The peak of the ziggurat was one of the tallest locations on Mochantia, competing with many mountain ranges at times, for its height scaled up and down as geomantic power was channeled into it. It was bare of ornamentation; little more than a perfectly level square of stone roughly 15 meters to a side. All of the other temple-cities could be seen from this vantage point – even for those on the frontier, thousands of kilometers away, the magic of the First City cast them clearly into view. Whosoever sat here beheld the entirety of the lizardmen's domain.
Mazdamundi let out a breath. It was exactly as he remembered from thousands of years ago, during the sessions where Lord Kroak had instructed him on the finer points of arcane theory. Itza's magic had done its work well, preserving the stone from the eternal pressures of time and entropy. The skies around the First City were occluded by a rolling grey mass of clouds, and a light patina of rain drizzled down upon the stone, their impact difficult to see against the black obsinite. Mazdamundi's skin absorbed the droplets that landed on him, lending his reddish hide a slight sheen.
He fixed his gaze on the centerpoint of the square and blinked. The air shattered the instant his eyes fully closed, and when they opened, a structure had appeared in his line of sight. It was a decagonal stone altar with ten obsinite pillars standing around it like ominous shadows. In the center, bound and suspended above the ground by chains of light that streamed out from the surrounding monoliths, was the struggling form of Gardakka Worldhamma. Faint stitch marks could be seen from where the Warboss' ravaged body had been pieced together again using the corpses of other orks, extending in precise lines across his neck and the junctions of his limbs. Despite this, the ork's muscles bulged as he struggled against his bonds, and his mouth moved silently, voice muffled by a spell.
Xili-Totl, Mazdamundi's Eternity Warden, emerged from a hidden entrance, his aura of shimmering heat cloaking him in streams of mist as raindrops evaporated upon contact. He was followed by a seemingly unending line of other Temple Guard, who arrayed themselves in an outward-facing formation around the perimeter of the peak. They readied glowing weapons and formed ranks behind walls of shields as Xili-Totl made his way to his master, halberd thrumming with suppressed power.
With slow, deliberate motions, Mazdamundi rose from his palanquin, standing on his feet with Xili-Totl close behind him, ready to catch him if he wavered. He approached the altar and the ork upon it, utilizing his telekinetic might to puppet his own limbs, for he had not yet spent the time and attention it would require to retrain his legs to walk and bear his weight again after almost nine thousand years spent seated. While walking in this fashion was inefficient in terms of energy expenditure and mental focus, it would suffice for the time being; he did not have far to go.
The ancient slann approached the immobilized Warboss, cobra-shaped mace in hand and watchful guardian at his back. The rain began to fall more heavily as he approached the altar, the air thickening with anticipation as he climbed up the steps. By the time he reached the top, it had gone from a light misting to a steady downpour, drenching the square and reducing sightlines to a minimum. Mazdamundi blinked, and a dome of force issued out from his person, pushing back the rains and enveloping the entire peak in an umbrella of telekinetic intent. A second blink, and the spell silencing Gardakka was stripped away.
"You froggy gits can walk?" The Warboss barked out a cruel laugh. "Dat's a new one! Like seeing a grot lift up a proppa boy's shoota, it is. Heh heh heh."
Mazdamundi came to a stop before him, his glowing eyes looking at and through and within Gardakka. He remained silent.
"I hope you scalyboyz is getting' ready," the Warboss continued. "Cos it won't be too long before my ladz find out where you'ze keeping me, even if you keep tellyportin' me around, and den it'll be a right gud fight fer da ages. Da boyz is gonna love knocking down all these walls you lot put up, heh heh heh."
Mazdamundi remained silent. The only indication that he was even aware of Gardakka's existence came from his mace, the semi-autonomous enchantment upon it causing the forked tongue of its cobra-like head to quest towards the ork.
Gardakka frowned, looking towards Xili-Totl. "Iz 'e even awake, or iz dis just a fing 'e does? Cos lemme tell ya, it's right boring tryin' ta threaten a git who don't even know you're there. Sucks all da fun right out uv it, it does. Like a grot wot won't even run around an' yell when you -"
"My patience for uax has expired," Mazdamundi rumbled. His cobra-shaped mace shivered into a semblance of life, the bronze stretching and reforming as the head snapped forward. Gleaming fangs pierced into Gardakka's chest, and the Warboss' body seized up as the artifact established a psychic connection between him and Mazdamundi. There was an invisible, silent roar, an upswell of power that was as vast as it was sudden, and something flooded across the link, piercing into the depths of Gardakka's being. It was nothing less than purest annihilation, a sequence of essence that had been meticulously coded to undo the incarnation of the Waaagh!!! that called itself Gardakka Worldhamma. He was the keystone - with his obliteration, all those connected to his Waaagh!!! would crumble and die in a likewise manner.
Crimson eyes went wide. A tusked jaw opened. A primal, indescribable noise rose from the throat of the beast on the altar, swiftly gaining volume until it was the only thing that could be heard. It was bereft of the joy that the monster usually took from battle, in fighting and killing and dying. This was the sound of a thing that felt its dissolution approaching, of a weapon that was being twisted and warped and pulled apart at the seams. It took sustenance from strife, but this was different. This was a force antithetical to the very essence of what it was.
Anathema.
It grew louder and louder, piercing through skin and sinew and spirit. Every ork body on the continent felt it, the call of the Waaagh!!! surging through their limbs and erupting from their maws as frenzied howling. Feuds and brawls were set aside, campaign plans abandoned, and even identity was subsumed by the unspeakable need to unmake the force that struck at the core of their being. The façade of individual personalities fell away, revealing the orks for what they were – an endless, unstoppable, elemental flood of violence.
Spores bloomed simultaneously across all the ground the orks had claimed. Fungal bodies swelled with psychic energies, growing at dizzying rates. Orkoid bodies formed in the ground in hours, and reached maturation in days. The broader fungoid ecosystem surged, uncountable hyphae stripping the earth of every possible speck of nutrition. This influx was immediately purposed towards fuelling additional growth, spawning more fungal pods, making more bodies to fight. Teeming hordes of gretchin flowed over the landscape, working together to haul their larger kin out of the dirt. The same warcry erupted from each of their lips as they were born, the same inarticulate expression of something deeper, more primal than rage, fear, or lust for battle. It was the unstoppable urge to survive that pushed the greenskins from the ground, that pointed them as one towards Itza. All other considerations fell away in the face of the grand ultimatum - kill or be killed.
The Waaagh!!! turned its full attention to Itza, and the earth shook with the footsteps of its vessels.
----------
The Emerald Tide approaches Itza. The sudden surge of population increase makes it difficult to accurately pinpoint, but it is conservatively estimated to number 200 million bodies and rising.
- Magnitude 2+1 Uax Detonating Ritual - Itza. Lord Mazdamundi will perform this ritual. Use Gardakka to destroy all orks in the known ork territories on the central continent. Subject to the requirement that all known ork territories be covered, spread the zone of effect along a narrow strip along the northern coast as far as possible, wrapping around the central continent, in case any minor ork lodgements still loyal to Gardakka remain unknown to us.
From afar, the cities of the lizardmen resembled mountain ranges. The walls at their base jutted up starkly from the surrounding jungle, obscuring much of the activity and smaller buildings within. Arrays of radiance shone out from their monolithic shape of black stone, protective sigils shimmering in and out of sight. The shapes of the defensive garrisons on and within the walls could be made out, manning glowing weapons and establishing sightlines on potential approaches to the city. Massive gates were hubs of activity, with whole regiments of guards operating quarantine blockades for those lizardmen re-entering the city, skink priests performing magical scans to prevent infiltration by Ayacmanik hosts while sentries kept watch from atop the walls through riflescope.
Extending above the walls were the taller, grander buildings of the city – spellforge complexes, temples to the gods and altars of the Old Ones, accommodations for important skink priests or visiting slann. Many of these buildings had detached themselves from the ground, either wholly or in part, and were connected to the rest of the city solely by strands of iridescent light emanating from their bases, like the ejecta from a rocket. They raised and lowered themselves according to the needs of the occupants within them – some, like the pyramids of slann involved in one experiment or another, were able to transport materials or individuals up and down the beams of energy extending from their bases. Grand auras of magical static could frequently be seen accumulating around buildings at this level, giving the resemblance of snow on a mountain's slopes.
Towering above even these were the oldest and most important ziggurats in a temple-city, looming monsters with thousands of steps and dozens of individual levels. Relic Vaults. Slann debate halls. Housing for the ruler of the city and their army of Temple Guard. Temples that housed golden tablets, pyramids that hid the core infrastructure of a city from prying eyes, and one peak rising above all others, the place where in olden days, the silver ships of the Old Ones would descend from the heavens to give instruction. These pyramids were built on the scale of great hills and held together with architecture that would last millennia without maintenance or magical aid. They were present in even the meanest outposts of the lizardmen empire, and as the cities got bigger, their height increased, establishing the skyline of the city in a way nothing else could.
Itza's central pyramid was tall enough that small layers of clouds formed around its slopes, and its own peculiar climate held sway on the long walk up its many hundreds of levels. A clammy, cold skin of air that was just damp enough to form dew on the scales when moved through clung to the pyramid, and no wind disturbed its currents – no matter how high one went, the only thing that could be felt was a slight thickening of the air. To reach its final stretch of ten thousand steps required navigation of much of the interior, each level filled to the brim with Temple Guard on high alert. To make it up that final stretch was perhaps a greater challenge than the entire rest of the building, however; the spatial geometry of the climb could be manipulated by its defenders, causing any enemy to have to climb for days to reach the top, all while pushing through layers of solidified air and enduring the attention of irate slann.
The peak of the ziggurat was one of the tallest locations on Mochantia, competing with many mountain ranges at times, for its height scaled up and down as geomantic power was channeled into it. It was bare of ornamentation; little more than a perfectly level square of stone roughly 15 meters to a side. All of the other temple-cities could be seen from this vantage point – even for those on the frontier, thousands of kilometers away, the magic of the First City cast them clearly into view. Whosoever sat here beheld the entirety of the lizardmen's domain.
Mazdamundi let out a breath. It was exactly as he remembered from thousands of years ago, during the sessions where Lord Kroak had instructed him on the finer points of arcane theory. Itza's magic had done its work well, preserving the stone from the eternal pressures of time and entropy. The skies around the First City were occluded by a rolling grey mass of clouds, and a light patina of rain drizzled down upon the stone, their impact difficult to see against the black obsinite. Mazdamundi's skin absorbed the droplets that landed on him, lending his reddish hide a slight sheen.
He fixed his gaze on the centerpoint of the square and blinked. The air shattered the instant his eyes fully closed, and when they opened, a structure had appeared in his line of sight. It was a decagonal stone altar with ten obsinite pillars standing around it like ominous shadows. In the center, bound and suspended above the ground by chains of light that streamed out from the surrounding monoliths, was the struggling form of Gardakka Worldhamma. Faint stitch marks could be seen from where the Warboss' ravaged body had been pieced together again using the corpses of other orks, extending in precise lines across his neck and the junctions of his limbs. Despite this, the ork's muscles bulged as he struggled against his bonds, and his mouth moved silently, voice muffled by a spell.
Xili-Totl, Mazdamundi's Eternity Warden, emerged from a hidden entrance, his aura of shimmering heat cloaking him in streams of mist as raindrops evaporated upon contact. He was followed by a seemingly unending line of other Temple Guard, who arrayed themselves in an outward-facing formation around the perimeter of the peak. They readied glowing weapons and formed ranks behind walls of shields as Xili-Totl made his way to his master, halberd thrumming with suppressed power.
With slow, deliberate motions, Mazdamundi rose from his palanquin, standing on his feet with Xili-Totl close behind him, ready to catch him if he wavered. He approached the altar and the ork upon it, utilizing his telekinetic might to puppet his own limbs, for he had not yet spent the time and attention it would require to retrain his legs to walk and bear his weight again after almost nine thousand years spent seated. While walking in this fashion was inefficient in terms of energy expenditure and mental focus, it would suffice for the time being; he did not have far to go.
The ancient slann approached the immobilized Warboss, cobra-shaped mace in hand and watchful guardian at his back. The rain began to fall more heavily as he approached the altar, the air thickening with anticipation as he climbed up the steps. By the time he reached the top, it had gone from a light misting to a steady downpour, drenching the square and reducing sightlines to a minimum. Mazdamundi blinked, and a dome of force issued out from his person, pushing back the rains and enveloping the entire peak in an umbrella of telekinetic intent. A second blink, and the spell silencing Gardakka was stripped away.
"You froggy gits can walk?" The Warboss barked out a cruel laugh. "Dat's a new one! Like seeing a grot lift up a proppa boy's shoota, it is. Heh heh heh."
Mazdamundi came to a stop before him, his glowing eyes looking at and through and within Gardakka. He remained silent.
"I hope you scalyboyz is getting' ready," the Warboss continued. "Cos it won't be too long before my ladz find out where you'ze keeping me, even if you keep tellyportin' me around, and den it'll be a right gud fight fer da ages. Da boyz is gonna love knocking down all these walls you lot put up, heh heh heh."
Mazdamundi remained silent. The only indication that he was even aware of Gardakka's existence came from his mace, the semi-autonomous enchantment upon it causing the forked tongue of its cobra-like head to quest towards the ork.
Gardakka frowned, looking towards Xili-Totl. "Iz 'e even awake, or iz dis just a fing 'e does? Cos lemme tell ya, it's right boring tryin' ta threaten a git who don't even know you're there. Sucks all da fun right out uv it, it does. Like a grot wot won't even run around an' yell when you -"
"My patience for uax has expired," Mazdamundi rumbled. His cobra-shaped mace shivered into a semblance of life, the bronze stretching and reforming as the head snapped forward. Gleaming fangs pierced into Gardakka's chest, and the Warboss' body seized up as the artifact established a psychic connection between him and Mazdamundi. There was an invisible, silent roar, an upswell of power that was as vast as it was sudden, and something flooded across the link, piercing into the depths of Gardakka's being. It was nothing less than purest annihilation, a sequence of essence that had been meticulously coded to undo the incarnation of the Waaagh!!! that called itself Gardakka Worldhamma. He was the keystone - with his obliteration, all those connected to his Waaagh!!! would crumble and die in a likewise manner.
Crimson eyes went wide. A tusked jaw opened. A primal, indescribable noise rose from the throat of the beast on the altar, swiftly gaining volume until it was the only thing that could be heard. It was bereft of the joy that the monster usually took from battle, in fighting and killing and dying. This was the sound of a thing that felt its dissolution approaching, of a weapon that was being twisted and warped and pulled apart at the seams. It took sustenance from strife, but this was different. This was a force antithetical to the very essence of what it was.
Anathema.
It grew louder and louder, piercing through skin and sinew and spirit. Every ork body on the continent felt it, the call of the Waaagh!!! surging through their limbs and erupting from their maws as frenzied howling. Feuds and brawls were set aside, campaign plans abandoned, and even identity was subsumed by the unspeakable need to unmake the force that struck at the core of their being. The façade of individual personalities fell away, revealing the orks for what they were – an endless, unstoppable, elemental flood of violence.
Spores bloomed simultaneously across all the ground the orks had claimed. Fungal bodies swelled with psychic energies, growing at dizzying rates. Orkoid bodies formed in the ground in hours, and reached maturation in days. The broader fungoid ecosystem surged, uncountable hyphae stripping the earth of every possible speck of nutrition. This influx was immediately purposed towards fuelling additional growth, spawning more fungal pods, making more bodies to fight. Teeming hordes of gretchin flowed over the landscape, working together to haul their larger kin out of the dirt. The same warcry erupted from each of their lips as they were born, the same inarticulate expression of something deeper, more primal than rage, fear, or lust for battle. It was the unstoppable urge to survive that pushed the greenskins from the ground, that pointed them as one towards Itza. All other considerations fell away in the face of the grand ultimatum - kill or be killed.
The Waaagh!!! turned its full attention to Itza, and the earth shook with the footsteps of its vessels.
----------
The Emerald Tide approaches Itza. The sudden surge of population increase makes it difficult to accurately pinpoint, but it is conservatively estimated to number 200 million bodies and rising.
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Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
And so it begins.
...
Well, I could say that if I had any more material already written. This is, unfortunately, the end of my stock for now, and now I actually have to write again. So, uh, I'll try not to pull a 6 month absentee thing again. Got most of the scenes I want to portray already mapped out anyhow.
One way or another, this is the last war you'll have against the orks in this arc of the story.
...
Well, I could say that if I had any more material already written. This is, unfortunately, the end of my stock for now, and now I actually have to write again. So, uh, I'll try not to pull a 6 month absentee thing again. Got most of the scenes I want to portray already mapped out anyhow.
One way or another, this is the last war you'll have against the orks in this arc of the story.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Mmm…can we see bits released in segments when they're completed as opposed to all at once?
wow that a ton of orks coming and more on the wat luckly we don't even have to defeat them just hold them off long enough for the ritual to complete(how long does that take again)...also perhaps this is a hint to the higher levels of the orks? perhaps this is a view into what the kork were like?
Okibruez
(Verified Mid-Boss)
- Location
- Dreams
Well this is going exactly as expected.
The descriptions of the sheer scale of the Lizardmen cities is pretty awe-inspiring just reading it, too.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Bring it on. What you're about to face is nothing like the defenses of yesteryear.
This is, essentially, why no one has tried to pull this sort of thing before. With a side order of the risk of getting into a punching match with racial gods who are defined by violence.
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Aye, that's the plan. Was for this whole turn, only I got extremely carried away by the Relic Tombs for some inscrutable reason.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Create a strong and big enough meat grinder, and it doesn't matter how much hurls itself in.
