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They are late. Yenekh pointed out the obvious, as he stood behind Oltyx, impatiently tapping his complaints on the other’s lower back.
‘…..they could have at least tried to arrive on time.’ Whispered the Lord of Drazak annoyed. ‘……they are, after all, asking us to aid them in their battles.’
Chin up! The high general tapped on his King’s side in a manner that he intended to be jovial. This is probably a tactic to make you cave, and give easier into their demands.
Oltyx turned to stare him down.
‘….how is this supposed to help me, Razor?’ he grumbled.
Well, my King, this loyal subject thinks that if they took their fly-blown time to come. He tapped with both hands, as they started slowly creeping up Oltyx’s skin covered chest. Maybe we have a couple of moments to discuss the itinerary for when the meeting is done.
Oltyx felt his heart skip a cycle as he shivered, leaning into his admiral’s cold embrace.
Ever since they arrived on Drazak their friendship has grown tighter.
The kind of bond they had would have been inappropriate between them previously, but not between two equals.
Together, Oltyx had no fear that their decisions could protect their people, keep them safe, and offer them a life that they could never have had before.
Yenekh’s sharp claws ran down his leathery sides, resting over his hip bone.
The Flayed Lord rolled his eyes at the cockiness Yenekh had.
Right after their first food raid, on the nearby planets, the Razor of Sedh decided to start tallying the ships that he brought down on the side of his hip. Although Oltyx was not happy with being used as a writing board, he was slightly shocked, slightly pleased, and slightly befuddled that his admiral managed to bring down ships from melee.
That was Yenekh to you. The thought filled him with joy, as his heart cycled faster.
The Razor pressed himself closer to Oltyx, dragging his sharp teeth over his Lord’s body, until he reached the crook of his neck.
He bit the soft, leathery skin that covered Oltyx’s neck.
The material gave quickly, as dark rivulets dripped off Oltyx’s shoulder.
‘….aaaaaah….’ he exclaimed softly, dimming his eyes, as his body quivered with delight.
The fangs were scratching his bones.
Oltyx rocked into the sensation.
Suddenly, a sharp noise broke the tranquility.
The sentinel alerted them of a ship landing nearby.
Yenekh withdrew himself from his King, as his eyes darted around, scrying the area.
Oltyx looked around, not afraid of an ambush but still slightly anxious.
He was not in danger, for he was never alone. Many wet eyes were glinting in the dark corners of the decrepit building in the middle of this abandoned human settlement. There were sounds of rustling and running, as his people were trying to reposition themselves to see the action that was about to unfold better.
Oltyx fidgeted with his sharp claws nervously.
This was the first diplomatic meeting after he took the mantle of the Fallen Lord, Valgûl.
The scarab bearing an invitation from the Hefres dynasty had given them the coordinates for a parlee on one of the deserted planets in the Ghoul Stars system, on a currently uninhabited human world.
Oltyx recognized the place, it was one of their previous hunting grounds, one of their first, actually. He and his Razor learned here that it was wiser to not kill the whole population for a harvest if you wish to still have some food left in the future. Back then, he and the High Admiral shuffled their feet helplessly, eyes towards the ground and heads bowed in shame as Parreg scolded them like they were mere misbehaving children, with raspy growls.
Yenekh pointed to Oltyx and then tapped his sharp fingers on his golden chest.
The message was clearly addressed to the Bone King.
Remember to be confident, don’t let them walk over you, but show them we are to be reasoned with.
Oltyx nodded, encouraged by his friend’s words.
He was responsible for his people.
For their future.
He needed to show the Infinite Empire that they were just as valuable as any other Dynasty.
‘….I got it, trust me!’ he whispered with a roll of his eyes.
He tried not to let it show how much the Admiral’s words meant to him, as he watched Yenekh withdrawing into a dark corner.
Lord Sehet gripped his scythe of the Boiling Suns tighter, trying not to let his disgust escape his neural matrixes.
‘Report from the in-field deathmark.’ He demanded from his cryptek advisor, angry glyphs masking his true feelings.
‘Yes, my Lord, he is in position. The oubliette is right on top of the building where the defective Necron Lord is stationary.’ The technomancer replied.
Lord Sehet of the Hefres Dynasty adjusted his grip on his modified warscythe.
'Fear no, my liege. The Silent King will be impressed by your actions. This event will most certainly bring us his support, along with reinforcements against the biological menaces.' His royal warden spoke from his left.
He graciously let out an agreement glyph to linger in the private carrier wave link they were maintaining between them.
'My Lord, allow me to suggest alternatives if these tasks prove to be too bothersome.' His advisor interjected.
'Are you implying I am afraid, cryptek!' The Lord snapped at his subject. The cryptek on his right raised his hands in a placating gesture.
'I wouldn't even consider that, my Master.'
'You better not.' The Lord moved his focus with the same air that one would drag a knife on someone's face.
He initialized the translation protocols, preparing to meet the horror that was the Flayed Lord of Dranzek.
'Are the recall protocols inactivated?' Asked the royal warden Kashem, on a private frequency link, shamelessly as he stood on the other right side of his sworn leader.
'Yes. The atmosphere has chrono temporary charged particles. An abnormality that occurs in nature and will be proven fatal if someone were to deactivate right now.' The cryptek replied as green light engulfed the three of them. 'A cloud like that is passing above us, cutting us off from the main ship’s resurrection chambers.'
The warden's deathmask changed so that it would give the impression of a raised eyebrow, an impression that was, somehow, translated last.
'Was it meant to pass, or was it made to pass above us?’ He asked.
A smug glyph was returned, as all three were transported in from of the entrance of the dilapidated building.
The horrible monstrosity that called himself the Flayer Ones’ Lord, was staring at them.
Half-rotten organic carcasses were hanging off him, in a grotesque attempt to hide his metal body with bone and marrow.
His minions were scattering like insects away from him, leaving the space in the center clear for the negotiations
The Lord braced himself, as he pushed his chest forwards, ready to issue his challenge.
'Overlord Valgûl, Fallen Lord, King of the Flayed ones.’ He said in an open wave link, free to be heard and listened to by anyone around them. ‘I challenge your wretched existence. Your mere presence is a stain on the tapestry of the Silent King’s vision. I am here to end you! Accept my duel!’
Oltyx watched as the three necron visitors walked towards him.
They were dead silent.
Not a single sound escaped their vocal actuator cords.
The Flayed Lord recalled Mentep telling him, once in his former life, that guests who requested a meet-up were supposed to proceed with the greetings and then demands.
But those necrons were eerily silent. They stopped at five cubits before him, staring straight at him, silent and unmoving.
This is quite uncomfortable. Thought Oltyx.
Maybe they needed more time? He decided to wait for them to move.
Or maybe I should greet them first? He wondered, deciding to throw his friend a quick glance in the hopes that maybe he might come up with a suggestion.
From his dark corner, Yenekh was gesturing at Oltyx.
What is he saying? Oltyx resisted the temptation to tilt his head as he threw a glance at the guests in front of him.
They were still quietly looking at him.
Oltyx brought his attention back to the gesticulating Yenekh.
The High Admiral was gesturing and touching his neck with a single long sharp claw.
Was he hungry? They could have a bite after, but this was not the time.
Oltyx started shaking his head, slowly, as to not attract attention from the necrons in front of him. He tried conveying the message that dinner could wait until the meeting was done.
‘My Most Gracious one! They are refusing your challenge!’ the royal warden exclaimed, as shocked glyphs poured over the wave link.
‘No!’ Lord Sehet decided as he looked at the hulking, nightmarish figure standing in front of them. The King of Draezkh looked solemnly at them, arms crossed as a sign of the impenetrable mental defense, and shaking his head in a slow, deliberate manner.
‘He is telling us that he will not accept defeat!’ The Lord realized. ‘Well, One Eyed King of the Flayed Ones, then I shall execute you like the diseased abomination your kind is, with no right to the honor of a duel.’
That statement shocked the royal warden and the cryptek.
Yenekh covered his hands on his face as if he was frustrated by the lack of understanding.
Not only he. Thought Oltyx, before throwing a nervous glance at the necrons in front of them. He couldn’t remember if politics were always this long and boring.
Yenekh moved again, making Oltyx watch with amusement and slight horror, as he raised both of his hands, spreading out his fingers like the feathers of a metal hawk, and holding them close to his head.
Was he trying to tell Oltyx that he was bored?
Oltyx’s heart cycled a little faster, as he realized that his High Admiral was trying to make him laugh. The charming Razor was trying to alleviate the palpable tension in the air with his joyful mimicry, all without being observed by his guests.
He covered his fanged mouth trying to hide the smile forming on his face.
‘He-he is laughing at me!’ The Overlord realized, taking a fraction of a fraction of a teba of a step behind.
‘Is he implying that he can overpower your Majesty?’ The cryptek asked, his ocular wide and the sheer courage the Flayed King was showing.
He tried hiding the glyphs of admiration at the composure and character the King of the Flayed Ones was showing, even afflicted with such a terrible curse.
‘Truly, before this illness, The One-Eyed King must have been a noble of great compose and character.’ A slight glyph of admiration threatened to escape his engrams.
‘Your Majesty, you cannot accept such an insult!' his royal warden bent forward slightly, trying to appear more predatory. ‘You dare make a mockery of us?’
No. That wasn’t what he meant. Oltyx realized as he watched Yenekh throw his hands in the air in an exasperated manner.
Even if slightly frustrated, Oltyx’s nerves regarding the meeting seem to have calmed down.
Leave it to Yenekh to always know what to do. He thought as warm feelings spread in his mind.
He looked as the High Admiral mimicked throwing something over his shoulder.
Was there something behind me? Oltyx tried to discreetly look over his shoulder.
The three were stunned.
The message the Flayed Ones' King was sending was clear.
‘You and what army?’ Translated the cryptek with horror as he realized that their ships might have already been full of flayed ones lying in hiding.
‘We are surrounded.’ The Lord acknowledged their dire situation.
By itself, that statement was an admission of defeat, the situation they found themselves in was foolish. In the middle of the flayed ones army, unaware of how many or where they were.
The royal warden jerked slightly, his tiles clinking softly.
‘My Liege! You cannot back down from a challenge you already issued!’ Panic glyphs were glimmering through the interstitial wave link.
A dark spark appeared in the Lord’s oculars, as he received an unexpected message, unknown to the one planning his demise.
‘Royal Warden Kashem. It is your duty, first and foremost, to protect me. That extends to my integrity and honor.’ The Lord turned his deathmask to face his warden, looking grimly at him.
Kashem looked shocked, his core cycling irregularly.
‘Step forward, my royal warden, take my place in this duel challenge.’ The Lord looked at the Flayed Ones' King. ‘I sent my representative to carry out this duel for me.’
The royal warden took a step in front, mechanical mind obeying orders before his engrams caught up with him.
Yenekh smacked himself in the face.
No, that wasn’t it. Thought Oltyx after he noticed nothing out of the ordinary behind him.
Some movement grabbed his attention as he looked at the three unaffected necrons, in front of him.
The one on the left of the Lord stepped forward, leaning heavily into his staff.
They were still silent as stones.
Was this a greeting? This one was far too frightened for Oltyx to imagine that this gesture had any malice behind it, but experience and Parreg taught him that nobles were vicious and untrustworthy.
I must show them that the Flayed ones are still necrons at the core. Oltyx decided determined.
He confidently took a step forward.
Right after he realized his mistake, the Royal Warden started throwing concerned glances towards his leader. Oltyx was twice his height and weight. He must have looked like a Giant Desert Scorpion lunging at a defenseless house scarab.
He desperately threw a glance at Yenekh.
The Razor of Sedh was desperately waving his hands in the air.
After catching Oltyx’s glance, he started to slowly gesture on his body, with clear and wide gestures, the message clear.
Your break Scarf break Is break Askewed.
Oltyx rolled his eyes.
Leave it to the Razor to ruffle him up before such an important meeting.
He patted the upper part of his chest until he found the out-of-position piece of skin, and threw it back over his shoulder.
The King of Drazak was taunting them, using his hand to make a come-hither gesture.
The advisor realized their precarious situation.
They were without escape if he didn’t do something.
I am sorry, Kashem, it’s either you, or both of us.
He opened a private link in the interstitial network, contacting his Lord.
‘My Lord, this is a trap! I finally connected the royal warden’s late-night meeting with your Majesty’s brother. This is a suicide mission!’ The cryptek attached packages of carefully cut and cropped memories with the Royal warden walking into the company of the next pretender to the Lord’s throne.
The Lord Sehet didn’t even throw him a glance, staring at his royal warden.
‘Go on, Kashme, defend your Liege.’ The Lord added with no emotion in their interstitial link.
The Royal warden gripped his staff, turning to face the huge Flayed Lord.
Suddenly, a shot from the top of the building splattered Kashme's engrams on the dusty floor.
Oltyx jumped.
Szarekh’s bone shavings! He cursed as the flux spilled in front of him.
His eyes darted to the top of the buildings surrounding the plaza.
He spotted three deathmarks.
Already, his subjects were circling to them, but they were yet to act.
The deathmark who shoot dismissed their weapons into their dimensional pocket.
He looked at Yenekh who seemed just as startled, stepping already closer to the center, ready to jump on the interlopers.
The Lord opened his arms wide, looking directly at Oltyx.
The One Eyed King looked at the guest and then at the High Admiral.
Yenekh shrugged.
Then, the Razor of Sedh raised his finger, again, to grab Oltyx’s attention, and he slowly wrote in the air.
They break Took break Shooting break One’s break Wad break Too break Literally.
Amusement raged into Oltyx's system, he buckled trying to hold his laughter in.
He could swear that there were tears in his eyes from the sheer silliness of Yenekh’s joke.
He covered his mouth with one hand while trying to hold himself together, with the other wrapped around his chest.
Yenekh gestured again.
He breaks Shot break His break Loaded break Question.
Laughter shook Oltyx’s body.
The Flayed King bowed at the Lord as a sign of respect.
Sehet was shocked.
The sheer character that the King of the Flayed Ones displayed was astonishing to him.
The wisdom of knowing this was a coup all along.
The composure with which he communicated this to him.
He pressed his fist to his ankh, and bowed, in the same position as Valgur.
‘I apologize for this mess, and for the previous display.’
He raised himself.
‘I shall speak to my Phaeron of your character and intelligence.’ The Lord searched his engrams to express the sheer respect that was flooding his neural matrixes. ‘Consider yourself, my guest, at the next Royal Court Meeting of my dynasty. I shall vouch for your character.’
His oculars were glinting with excitement.
In front of him was a necrons of true character. With standing such horrors as the sickness of Llandu'gor, the Flayer with such dignity.
’Thank you King of Dranzekh, for both your aid and for teaching me a valuable lesson.’ The Lord bowed to him, as he activated the translocation sequence.
The cryptek raised his hand and manifested a tangible glyph package.
‘Those are the coordinates.’ He bowed slightly as he started glowing with the green translation light. ‘We shall now take care to never trust such advisors in the future. Such mistakes are beneath us.’
With those parting words, the Lord and his cryptek left the surface of the planet, on their ship, The Foreshadowing, which waited for them outside the building.
Oltyx noted a few green flashes on top of the buildings, as the deathmarks that were waiting left as well.
‘…….Yenekh, I missed the conversation entirely. Did you manage to catch something?’ he whispered as he touched the glyphs, making them project a hard light map with instructions and coordinates.
His friend stepped closer to look at the message better.
Not really. He tapped on Oltyx’s neck. Was too distracted by your mussy appearance. He smiled impishly at the other necron. But maybe they were using an interstitial wave link?
‘….oh, I wonder if they realized I couldn’t hear them?’ Oltyx said as he finished reading the message. ’ ……I am invited to the royal court meeting!’ He exclaimed softly.
Yenekh rested his chin on his friend’s shoulder, hugging him from behind.
It is an invite that is hard on you to decline.
Oltyx tackled him, laughing with his whispery laugh soon joined by Yenekh’s joyful rasps.