Civilia’s Ruin ran with the blood of mortals. Skarra Spinebreaker had seen her fair share of battles on Ghur’s wrathful seas, but the war in Civilia had become one of the most deadly. Maybe it was the fact that blood simply dissipated in the ocean, whereas here it floated between buildings and beneath broken bridges – around the ankles of those still standing. Skarra was not.
Skarra spat into the salty waters as she looked up at her captors. Massive kroxigors prowled the prisoners, while a feather-crested skink stalked up the line, finally coming to stand in front of her as she knelt in defeat.
“Ahh….” it hissed, crouching lower to better look into Skarra’s eyes, “you are important… yesss. You have the ear of that ssself-appointed ruler. Tell me mortal… do you think sssshe will trade away her power to see you alive?”
Skarra looked deep into the lizards eyes, knowing that Sorrah wouldn’t do so for a thousand souls, regardless of their “importance”.
“No? Well, there will be ssssurprises today, but that is not one of them.”
As the skink straightened it spoke to a kroxigor nearby in its natural tongue, and as the lumbering brute wandered off – to do what, only Archaeon knew – the skink cleared its throat, allowing the rest of the prisoners to hear what was said.
“For most of you, your souls will soon depart your bodies, and these mortal planes of existence will forget you ever existed. Nothing you have done will be of any importance whatsoever. But, the great plan is often merciful, and I have been instructed to allow a handful of you to live – for the time being.”
A murmur went up amongst the line of prisoners at this. Mercy? From the Seraphon? It was unheard of. The skink pointed a scaly finger at Skarra and two others from within the group.
“These ones,” it said to the guards, “are to survive. The rest, give their life-blood to the ocean.”
“A trade?” Nikos scoffed at Blackmaw’s first mate. “You must be joking?”
She pulled a knife on Skarra, pointing it menacingly at her throat.
“Tell me how you escaped those wretched lizards, and what game you’re attempting to play, and maybe I let you live today.”
Skarra scowled. “As much as it pains me to say it, they really did let me leave, with the condition I deliver the message, of course.”
“And what? They assume because you were the one to deliver it that I would simply capitulate? My warriors will fight until they all die if need be to keep this city! Blackmaw’s warriors too if I so deem it necessary.”
“I agree, I say it’s time we took the fight to them. If we could convince the Tower to send forth it’s hosts – ”
“They must have lost their minds,” Sorah continued, ignoring the pirate, “if they think I’ll return their precious shield while I have the upper hand!”
Skarra grimaced at that. The city was essentially surrounded at this point. Months of fighting had resulted in much of the forces within the city slowly destroying themselves, while the Seraphon only grew in number outside. Trade routes had been cut off, massive creatures now roamed the desolate streets, and warriors died by the score in the dead of night. The only thing Nikos had, really, was the shield keeping a Seraphon bombardment at bay. That, and the Silver Tower that floated above the city – which often spilled out deamons whenever the fighting had gone on for too long.
“While my… benefactor… is still here,” Sorrah said, motioning out of her window at the sparkling spire without, “I will rule. And none of those creatures will stop me.”
Then the Tower disappeared.
Horrified, Nikos turned to Skarra. The woman was staring out into the sky, at the now empty space left by the Tower.
And then something changed. The room’s candles snuffed out, and the pirate’s face shifted while she turned her eyes back at Sorrah. Dark, black eyes.
Skarra leapt towards the stunned ruler of Civilia’s Ruin, a glittering knife in one hand, as silent as a moonless night. Nikos quickly threw up her hands, arcane energies already spilling from her to strike out at the snarling creature.
And the deal was struck that evening.
