[LoloMo]

"My lord, we have captured a C'tis scout. What shall we do with him?", asks Benhur. Having been dead only 5 days, his tongue and jaw muscles were still working smoothly, and in fact felt more limber than they were yesterday.

General Amphoteros looks up from his study of the terrain maps, a malevolent red glint inside his empty eye sockets the only clue that vision is used. "Another one? What does he have to say for himself?"

"My lord, he appears to be mumbling something about large swarms of black flies", replies Benhur, obliviously slapping dead a couple of fat black flies against his cheek.

General Amphoteros sighs, "Is he the same one we caught eight months ago who came declaring war on us and screaming about "Friends in High Places" on their side?"

Benhur squints at the dimunitive slimy lizardkin. If his olfactory senses have been what it once was, he would probably have been nauseated by the miasma that exudes from the C'tisian too. Being undead does have its perks.
"My lord, they all look the same to me".

"Nevermind, send him back. Their cowardly pretender is probably still holed up in his den all warm and cozy waiting for others to fight his war for him. For all that old coot's bluster, we haven't seen a real fight from him. It's his "Allies" MA Pythium and MA Tien Chi that have been doing the fighting and the dying. I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up if by some miracle that huge army next door starts marching. Maybe in another year", snickers General Amphoteros, making sure that the little C'tis scout is absorbing everything that was said.