The Azure Citadel

There was no reply from the dead one. He was in the back, unlikely to be heard. He shifted, looking up at the tower that loomed over him. He felt like he had seen something similar, long ago. Red clay? Mud brick? Tall, with bronze grates. For a God? Gods? Who built it? Not him. Another? Yes, the ones who sang to dogs. He saw it collapse, the people thrown from the spire, burning like falling stars. This one was sturdier, stone and gray metal. Perhaps it too would fall. Many of the living would.

Sekhemkare stepped out, wanting to look at the leader. He knew of her, but he doubted she knew of him. He had seen the scaled ones before, in his travels. He had never spoken to one, learned their ways, known their gods, and yet he found himself fighting for one. He supposed that was his fate, to wander and witness. Perhaps, if he was seen as worthy, he would be noticed. Perhaps. Sekhemkare was not given to either option. The gods were hungry. His kin were hungry. Souls were needed.

He trailed sand on the stones as he walked, locusts flitting in between the folds of his shawl. His trinkets of bronze and bone clacked quietly, swaying around his covered neck. Those near him in his passing shuffled in discomfort. Where he tread, the sun burned hotter, the sand bit against the skin, insects crawled in the sands. It was brief, but tangible. He stopped, standing near front. He could see her now. Her face was known to him, and he could serve her.

Silence was always an acceptable answer when a dragon asked for objections or questions. Nedelethakor turned, pleased, and sauntered her way into the The Grand Vestibule of the Azure Citadel...

Ulooga Drukensturn materializes from the void.

Ulooga Drukensturn vanishes into nothingness, but you get the feeling they are heading somewhere else.