Snippet #2726849

As the sand roared around him, Sekhemkare faced down the servants of the scaled one. The sand whirled around him as he slowly raised a wizened hand. It coiled around his fingers, rumbling with untold force as the grains began to howl with the anger of thousands of souls. A cry went out as it shot towards the demons, a mix of fury and triumph as the long-dead sons and daughters of the desert sated their anger. It went into every pore, every wound, forcing itself into the bodies of the servants. Water floated in the air for a brief moment as it was torn from the creatures, vanishing in the grains. The cries of the demons grew silent as desiccated forms crashed to the floor, crumbling as they fell. The sand went across the battlefield like an enraged viper, flaying any combatant Sekhemkare thought to be an enemy, until the Suzerain's men were no more.

He turned from his own fight to see the Lady struggle against the powerful magic of the Suzerain. How much of his might, he wondered, was ripped whole and beating from the hearts of those who called the sands their home? He bowed his head, spread his arms, and received his answer on the wings of thousands of ravenous locusts. They roiled out from his clothes like a whirlwind, plated in bronze and shrieking with golden jaws. The sand bore then faster than even their unnatural wings could carry them, hitting the Suzerain with tremendous force. They would bite through scales, worm their way into every wound, feast upon eyes. The desert was starving, and the scaled king would be their feast.