[spirokeat]

Winter and Spring of the First to Second Year Of Ascension.

Quetzalcoatl, The Legendary Priest King
The cold winds felt good under the feathered wings of the serpent, for many centuries he had lain asleep his dreams as free as the clouds which he so loved to soar through, of late though he had dreamed of other things, memories of things he thought long dead. He recalled his tenure as the King of Mictlan, so long ago. He had destroyed the hereditary power of the blood cults, outlawed their practice in mistaken morality. The temple of the land was his doing, his legacy of nature to the kingdom but it had not been enough, with the blood gone, the strength of Mictlan had fled and the empire dwindled from the greatness it had known under that misbegotten beast, Mictlipoctli. But with the death of the Blood king, and after a long time as King in his place, his own hibernation the empire lost its vigour. Now he had awoken, he could feel the absence of the one god and more importantly he could feel the presence of the one who would take his place. The dark oracle had risen once more, its hunger more potent than he had ever felt and its malignancy a howling rage of brutal power, he felt the echo’s of the old kingdom and its glory in its call. Gliding downwards through the strata of clouds the night air cleared, and twinkling below him was the great city of Mictlan. Lights too many to count, sparkling and moving through the night time dance of city life and beyond Mictlan, on the mountain plateau, the dark maw of the cave where once as the Lawgiver, he had banished his new god. Quetzalcoatl wondered what Zum Zu’aal would say when he arrived at his mausoleum….

Xolotl, Tribal King
The forest was alive with noise as the army marched through it, they had been tracked for days, Xolotl was sure, he had sent runners out to find out what was ahead his observers had thus far avoided him though on occasion he could hear a sharp barking sound echoing ahead of his troops, it was unnerving the men, they needed an enemy they could fight, cursing the damnable forest he continued his march….

An Attendant of the King of Legends
The attendant hesitantly walked into the chamber where the mummy resided, the news he carried he knew would not be received well but not to pass it on as commanded would result in certain death as opposed to merely a chance at death.
“m-my lord…..” the voice wavered in fear.
“Why do you disturb my preparations, I ordered the slaves be taken to the laboratory” the voice was dark and filled with command.
“I-I’m sorry to inform you lord b-but the temple does not have the slaves you require, they await further offerings from the people” the attendant blurted quickly.
At first silence and then a rising wave of anger roared from the throat of the ancient thing, rising from its prone position seemingly without the aid of physical movement Mictlipoctli was striding towards the attendant swifter than a sandstorm. The ruined face hovered mere inches from the cowering attendant and then retreated slowly, leaving nothing but the scent of tomb lotus in its wake.
“Then I will present what I have to our lord and for your sake, pray he is satisfied”…

Xolotl, Tribal King
The lizard had proved harder to catch than the situation they had discovered it in suggested, it had bounded nimbly out of the grasp of the nets they had set for it and was making a snarking sound as it ran towards the thick shrubs to the left of Xolotl’s camp. Tzitzimime had come up with the plan to catch the elusive observers, his forest lore coming to the fore and combined with the slavers experience at capturing running prey he and Xolotl had come up with a plan. Two eagle warriors were blessed and given nets to soar into the treetops above their last camp, the main army breaking and preparing to move. Xolotl knew their observers could not resist sniffing round their camp site to glean any information they could and so he hid himself, Tzitzimime and two guards. Sure enough, some time after the main army moved off to the meeting place, a stout ugly creature with a long tail, elongated snout and wicked looking trident slinked into their now deserted camp, it reminded Xolotl of the crocodiles in the rivers near Mictlan, only this one walked on two legs and had beady eyes which were at this moment looking over the fire pits of the night before. Without warning the two eagle warriors swooped from above and startled the creature who let out a loud, SNARK! and dived to one side as the nets tumbled from the sky. Swearing Xolotl stood and shrugged off the foliage that covered him and sprinted towards the now retreating lizard. The guards were two far away to intervene and the eagle warriors soaring back into the trees, they wouldn’t be back in position for at least 30 seconds and by then it would be too late. Suddenly from behind Xolotl sailed a writhing mass of vines, projected by the conjuration of Tzitzimime and with amazing accuracy engulfed the fleeing creature who snarked in what could only be described as surprise. Passing Xoltol with a wide grin, Tzitzimime was loosening his slavers shackles from his belt and bearing down on the recumbent form, exuding playful arrogance at Xolotl for his success and the old mans failure. Still thought Xolotl, if the whelp thought he knew as much about torture and information extraction as the old tribal king, he had another thing coming, he would find out the location of the lizard army this evening and they would force march there tomorrow, he was tired of this place and desired battle…

Mictlipoctli, King of Legends
Mictlipoctli shambled his way into the cave entrance, much had changed in the year since Zum Zu’aal had returned, the path up the mountain was once more being paved and many priests and envoys from the temples and newly conquered lands journeyed here to pay homage, the walls had been restored and now frescoes and tapestries displaying ancient Mictlan legend adorned the walls. Even one showing a sea of blood and a depiction of himself as he was in life had been discovered and hung; Mictlipoctli paused briefly to reflect on his past life. There was something bothering him which he could not put his finger on, perhaps it was the continued lack of sites of deathly power, his main strength was rendered impotent without the precious distilled essence of death and he was relying on blood rituals, this needed to be rectified and he resolved to bring it to Zum Zu’aal’s attention directly. Walking into the main chamber he felt his mind and body freeze in shock at what he saw.
“YOU!” he involuntarily spurted.
The cloaked man in front of him hissed and smoke billowed around the figure as his form changed into a sinuous winged serpent. Leaping from the lip of the statue the young avatar leapt between the bristling assailants and the resonant voice of Zum Zu’aal boomed from around the chamber
“SILENCE!” the intonations of eternal torment in the voice were enough to pause the two ancient heroes and both remained across the chamber from each other, though neither would back down.
“Mictlipoctli, what news of my army?” the voice was commanding and offered no room for discussion.
“I have called forth twelve bone fiends from the graveyards of hell my lord”
“Good, send them with a moon priest to the frontier army.”
Mictlipoctli nodded.
“Lord, I must protest…” the mummy began but the deep voice of the god cut him off.
“I know of your concerns, Mictlipoctli, but your dispute is one of time and time has changed, Quetzalcoatl supports my ascension and thus is your ally” The voice offered no debate.
“I have a task and a gift, Mictlipoctli” the small avatar approached the mummy placed her hand and head lightly upon the withered king’s arm.
“Plaguetongue, come forth and present thy self”
The shadows behind the great statue seemed to move and gather form and stepping forth came an apparition which a mortal would have quailed at the sight of, a grotesque corpse animated by the unholy will of a spirit forced to inhabit the decaying shell. Mictlipoctli recognised the revenant as it stepped forward and wondered how Zum Zu’aal had come by the essence of death needed as if sensing the unasked question the four statues turned their heads to the Couatl, Quetzalcoatl.
“You have your once enemy to thank for this gift, he prepared the distillation from the vaults of the Temple of the Land” spoke the voice of the god.
Mictlipoctli knew the revenant would be useful, the armies had conquered at least five nations and he had not the time to travel and search for locales of death, if he could procure a supply of magical essence, much like Quetzalcoatl had done, he could have it distilled into death and Plaguetongue could perform the rituals of dark knowledge to divine each land.
“I have further instructions for you, also, continue to call forth bone fiends, if no slaves are available I wish you to call forth the longdead of this land to serve once more” the voice was calculating.
Mictlipoctli nodded again.