Snippet #2724948

As the mating ritual between Tyretlethen and Nedelethakor ended, the two great dragons lay in a heap at the center of the room, crackling with lightning and breathing in great, rumbling gasps. Altogether it had been less...violent than Sekhemkare had been anticipating, but the entire room had been shaking at times, all the same. Now, though as the Suzerain rose from entanglement with his Favored Concubine, he sauntered over to where he had left his royal cloak. He sauntered up to the desert shaman with a curious expression, his milky yellow eyes scanning the form of Sekhemkare with more bemusement than malice. He spoke in a deep, thrumming voice, bringing his jagged face close to the stalwart sand-mage's own.

"Hmmmmm...you are one of Nedelethakor's new pets, yes? Hmmmm...you smell old, and yet, familiar. Where do you hail from, dune walker?" the Suzerain asked, spreading his wings in the expectation that the shaman would dress the Emperor in his cloak once again. A few of the Suzerain's own attendants scrubbed him down in the mean time; an entourage of dark, devilish fiends with shaven heads and glimmering, molten eyes. They glanced at Sekhemkare with suspicion, but would take no action, save at the behest of their Suzerain.

Nedelethakor caught Sekhemkare's eye, glancing over the Suzerain's shoulder as her own harpies attended her.

Forestall him a moment more, dear Sekhemkare, whilst I and my footwomen prepare his snare. Whatever thine action, do not dress him in that robe. Cling to it as you would your long life.

With that, the harpies surreptitiously flitted off to the eaves of the Suzerain's Hall, fiddling with the glowing, arcane symbols around the sandstone framing which held the Eye of the Suzerain, that most magnificent gem, dozens of meters across and set into the ceiling, whose scintillation dominated the warm light of the Hall...