The leader of the small band of Scalemin’s eyes bulged even more than they naturally did, impossibly huge. The other two members of his foraging troupe were watching him with curiosity and apprehension. He immediately hissed to them to take cover, but it was too late. The obviously enraged Khazin had spotted them and was stalking right towards them. There was little chance that they could outrun this creature, trained as the Khazin often were to run with great strides that usually outstripped most evenly sized creatures. Cassimi, the Scalemin leader, contemplated the situation for a split second, and decided that although his education was centered on defense and skillful negotiation of hazards, that they might have to fight clear of this menace. He stepped into the open and whispered in his native tongue to his followers. “Draw your weapons, but keep them from his sight, unless he attacks me.” The low hissing whispers carried well in the cavernous chamber, and although Cassimi knew the Khazin might hear him, he doubted the thing had bothered to learn the Scalemin tongue. He dropped his torch onto a small rock outcropping to leave his hands free.
Gulan saw the weakling Scalemin dive for cover, but took no heed. There was still one standing, obviously brave enough to face him down. He took in the odd features of the Scalemin ranger as he approached. He noted the fine ridge of horns that started somewhere out of sight near the base of the Scalemin’s spine and culminated in a prominently displayed horn just above the reptilian’s nose. Gulan thought to himself that he had better watch out for that horn, but the twin pair of sickles at the Scalemin’s hip took more of his notice. Gulan strode purposefully across the cavern floor. If necessary, he would carve the other Scalemin out of their rocky hiding places, just as he had tried to do with the devil-plant Ota. First he was going to dispatch this brave little Scalemin, though.
“Come out, little scaly-men, I won’t hurt you,” he growled. His evil grin gave away his intent though. The smile of a Khazin is not lightly observed. It is perhaps one of the most terrible images that a humanoid face can configure itself into. Cassimi’s knees began to quiver, and he silently thanked his Gods that the others did not see that, or else he might have been facing the wicked Khazin alone. Gulan’s lips stretched nearly from ear to ear, revealing multiple rows of teeth on each jaw, and when Gulan opened his mouth to speak, the gap of his open throat looked like a bottomless chasm to the poor Scalemin leader. Even though Cassimi knew that he was too large to be swallowed by the frightful Khazin, it still shook him to his bones to gaze upon the face of the terrible killer.
Cassimi was counting on his followers’ native ability to blend in with the background while he engaged the Khazin. As Gulan closed with the smaller Scalemin Cassimi, he felt himself fly into the now-familiar rage that seemed to make him incredibly strong and nearly invulnerable. Cassimi braced himself and drew his twin sickles. They seemed impossibly small compared to the deadly greataxe that the horrible Khazin was wielding. Cassimi decided that a defensive stance would buy him more time to draw the Khazin into a position where his followers could more easily come to the Scalemin’s aid. Cassimi took a step back, his long thin tail feeling the ground behind him for trip hazards. Gulan stomped forward and slashed into a sweeping attack, overextending his reach just as Cassimi stepped into his space and slashed out with a sickle, opening a fine gash on the Khazin’s chest. This only seemed to further enrage the young raging Khazin, and he launched into a furious rain of blows that Cassimi could only barely keep up with, his twin sickles curved away from Gulan as the Scalemin concentrated on deflecting the incoming blows. Cassimi’s companions saw that he would tire quickly. Fortunately, during the Khazin’s onslaught, he had allowed Cassimi to lure him backwards past the lurking companions. Gulan knew they were there, but for the moment was completely preoccupied with killing the impetuous little Scalemin.
“Your companions have deserted you little worm,” spat the outraged Khazin, his axe flying wildly at the small reptilian as if to punctuate his statement.
“And your wits seem to have deserted you, along with any hope of finding rapture,” replied the smaller Scalemin, deftly averting the down stroke of the gleaming greataxe. As he spoke, his two companions, a pair of young Scalemin that he was trying to teach, moved in unison to the sides of the Khazin, and almost as one, they flicked their wrists, sending their curved weapons into the muscled torso of the flailing Khazin. He howled with rage and fear as the kukri knives slid easily into his hide. One of the blows had struck something vital, and as he fell to his knees, he managed one last swipe with the greataxe, cleanly cleaving the surprised young Scalemin that had dealt him the death blow neatly in two. The axe thrummed with power even as it slipped from Gulan’s bloody fingers. He collapsed into darkness, and was gone.
The Nombril reached into its memory looking for a recent gift from the Ota he had slain. The plant-creature was not particularly powerful, but it had known a particular spell that was quite rare, and that would be very useful just now. The Nombril released the spell and touched a small rock outcropping that had recently been burned by a tar-like substance. A brief flurry of images were cast across The Nombril’s consciousness like a silent film on a screen of black glass, and it turned on its heels and walked over between the two corpses.
The Nombril knelt in a dried pool of blood, Khazin blood mixed with Scalemin to form a blackened sheet of death on the cavern floor. It beckoned a nearly forgotten spell from his memory, the spell would allow it to communicate with the dead Khazin, albeit briefly. Aware of the limitations of the spell, The Nombril was forced to also attempt to speak aloud for this. It had always had the ability, but rarely devoted the time to bother, preferring to communicate telepathically. Unfortunately, the dead could not speak in this manner, nor were they likely to respond to its questions if posed in that manner.
