Kraitkin #4 – Origins of Legends

Marazan had seen such a shard before; a shard of the Bloodstone, an ancient container of enormous power. The shard held by the Largos was one of the most precious relics of the Tethyos houses. And understandably so, obtaining it had been a great adventure, Marazan reflected, briefly thinking back to his own apprenticeship.

The captain was now approaching the altar, slowly extending a webbed hand towards the trident. Blue currents of energy were slowly emerging around the extended limb, questing forwards towards the weapon. As the energy touched the weapon, the already-vibrant crystal shard exploded with light, casting the chamber in an eerie crimson. A word echoed through the chamber, seemingly coming from both from the krait captain and the ocean water surrounding them. Marazan did not recognise the word, but its mere presence was a weight on his mind. All the marine life in the cavern had become incredibly agitated. Whatever this was, it was incredibly dangerous. Too dangerous for two largos with no support.

“Oinula, this is too much,” he turned to his right, hoping to get eye contact with his headstrong apprentice, “We need-” The rock cover where she had observed beside him was empty. Looking for any sign, he scanned the chamber. Above the monolith, he could see a hint of blue untouched by the malignant light from the shard. The chanting in the center stopped abruptly. Marazan was looking, but his mind was occupied with considering how to stop his protégé from rushing into certain doom. All signs of care and ritualistic precision vanished from the procession as the krait captain grabbed the charged trident and slammed the top through the skull of the krait prophet, an gout of blood erupting into the seawater. The largos assassins clung to their rocky covers to avoid being pulled into the open as the energy pulled towards itself, briefly deafening all sound in the chamber. The trident had been replaced with something new; A long black rod, seemingly composed of the same material as the monolith that still stood in the center, surrounded by 3 writhing eels, snapping at the water and each other. A turquoise mist of power surrounded the surreal creation, showing itself to be subtly different from the vile power that now emanated from the krait captain. The brute rose, as much as possible for something with a serpentine lower body, and stared directly at him. Marazan knew when he had been detected. With a smooth motion from the wings on his back, he surged onto the smooth rock in front of him, sharp blades at the ready.

Why are you here, largos?” Some magic was at play; Marazan found he could understand the monster though he spoke not a word of krait. The captain seemed unfazed by the ambush, but the soldiers at his command were not so disciplined. Some raced to surround him while others milled about the priests who were now clustering together, examining the eel-staff.


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