Tears of Blood: The Draggoth's Blood

      There was an unsettling sense of madness confined within the continuous motion of No’Tyalc’s steps as he anxiously paced back and forth. His heart pounded heavily against his chest, as though it threatened to tear its way from its bony imprisonment and consume his world entirely, and he felt the eerie sensation of frailty and weakness beginning to sweep over him. His body was possessed with endless strength - but despite the rumors of his legendary ferocity; his legs felt as though they would betray him, and send him sprawling unto the floor.

      It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He had struggled his entire life, enduring hardships that would’ve rendered the average person broken and disheartened, to insure that his family would never suffer his cruel fate. How ironic that those dark and callous ages would be the only thing that would enable him to continue at this time. Such things had brought strength and determination unto his tortured soul, had hardened his body and stirred his blood, and had led him into the cages.

      Undefeated in nine hundred and ninety-six brutal fights- that was his record: a feat that is still looked upon with reverence and awe by those who follow the underground events today. Only one other could lay claim unto such honor. His greatest friend: Goa-Den.

      The two had met during their historic reign within the cages, becoming good friends, and had caught the eye of the greatest Cage Fighter of all time. The powerful Master Trainer: Ce’Phus.

       That’s what he called them. ”Rip and tear; slash and gouge; no better than the Ancestors - that’s what you are! Plenty of power, but not the first hint of a brain between the two of you! “

       Then , with his opinion of their prowess clearly stated, he welcomed them into his den, and nourished them as though they were his own seedlings: it was the first time, since they were hatchlings, that either of them had actually felt safe. It was then that they had met the deres of Ce’Phus: A’Shinn , the eldest, and his younger brother - Cai-Din. Both were fine and capable warriors on their own; but as a team - they had risen through the ranks to become undisputed World Champions, Partners Division: an accomplishment worthy of the legacy that comes from being the deres of the Master Trainer, Ce’Phus .

       The battle was coming, it was an inevitable conclusion, and not even friendship could prevent it. Even those who cared little for the cages, or only knew bits and pieces of its nature, could see what was obvious before them. “ Nine hundred and ninety-six wins and no losses! “ …” No’Tyalc versus Goa-Den! “…. “ The Collision in the Cage! “…” The unstoppable force against the immovable object! “… The match was set, bets were made, and the moment was at hand.

       But it never happened.

       The ominous threat that had hung over the entirety of Eaa, blanketing the world beneath its forbidding shadow, had come to pass, and War was upon them.

       It was terrifying in the beginning. The ravenous herds swept over Eaa in an endless wave of chaos and destruction, leaving only death and despair in its wake, and even now No’Tyalc couldn’t rationalize a reason for their continuous onslaught.

       Eaa fought back as best as she could; but it was useless. The great dens of the Nobles, the great minds of the Tecs, the brave efforts of the commoners, were all useless. They tried to stop them, tried to stem the relentless tide that left only erosion and turmoil, but it was futile. Their separate efforts were valiant; but were wasted and costly, and nearly one third of Eaa’s population was wiped out within the first three cycles.

       Darkness consumed the heart of Eaa like a devouring plague . Yet it was out of darkness that light, itself, did come, and the glory of Ce’Phus shone brighter than the flames of Sol.

       His voice brought calmness unto the storm; his strength gave hope unto the down trodden; and his leadership returned order unto a world in chaos. His words united the people, “ Alone we are but dust, helpless before the fury of all things, and worthy only of being trampled upon and brushed off at the end of a hard day of work or play! But together - we are strong! Together we can accomplish the most staggering of things! For dust - alone - is helpless; but when dust is united, let the world bare notice unto its presence! For dust united can forge stone, raise mountains, and even the creation of a world is within its grasp! “

       He removed the boundaries that had separated the people for ages, Tecs were united with Priests; Nobles with commoners, and from the endless rivers of blood and decay - the Saurian race was given breath, and the legacy of the Ancestors was restored unto those who had accepted the Gift.

       No’Tyalc continued to pace, his steps becoming eerily similar to the act of stalking, and a menacing look of malevolence was now prominent in his eyes. His body was tense for action; yet he was tortured by the fact that there was nothing that he could do.

      His mind reeled from hopelessness, and desperation forced him to return to the memories of his youth in an effort to prevent himself from drowning any further.

      He drifted back to the formation of those first Saurian armies, if he could dare to call such a poor excuse for refuse such a thing, and to the hatching of a nation. Their soldiers were sloppy, but they learned quickly under Ce’Phus’ tutelage. They had no choice. It was either learn or die - no exceptions.

      Ce’Phus had spilled his share of blood in countless battles before the Great War, but he had never considered himself a soldier. Instead - he attacked the war as if it was the greatest Cage Fight of his life, and prepared his soldiers accordingly. Speed, strength, ability, and offensive strategies, were a necessary component; but so were defensive tactics. He encouraged the design of offensive weapons; but also had the great walls built, shields erected, escape tunnels dug, underground shelters constructed, and initiated the first stages in nannite development.

      No’Tyalc’s mind was scattershot, drifting from memory to reality without any true distinction, and finding little comfort in either. He drifted back to the seasons before the war, when the cages were his only concern, and found solace in his thoughts.

      Ce’Phus was an honorable shrdar; but the life of a cage fighter wasn’t one of glamour and wealth, and owning your own fighting den was a costly venture. It was then that No’Tyalc had met the others.

      Gro-Vall lived in the attic above the den. How long he had been there was anybody’s guess, but Ce’Phus accepted it as a gift from the Great Ancestor. How else could he explain having the greatest thief of any age residing in his attic? He never, officially, entered into the cages. Not because his skills were lacking, he was actually one of the finest pure fighters Ce’Phus had ever seen, but because he had a lot of enemies that would love to see a “ tragic accident “ befall him, so Ce’Phus relegated him to only training within the cages.

       Bi’Lar had been a promising young cage fighter with a resume that rivaled that of No’Tyalc’s and Goa-Den’s. Five hundred and twenty three wins and no losses: very impressive. He was hard, systematic, and very, very, cold. Perhaps that was his only flaw. His temper was constantly getting the better of him, and had nearly resulted in his killing an opponent during one of his matches. The match in question was clearly an attempted assault on his life, his temper had earned him a considerable number of enemies, but the promotional council was forced to act in spite of the evidence before them. He had allowed his opponent to live, that prompted the council to grant him a pass for his actions, but he was removed from further competitions. As a result, he was forced to enter into the Pits - the most brutal form of cage fighting in existence - to continue his career. 

        Wr’All was a Saurian of disreputable upbringing: the dere of Phi-Lo’Stat, himself. It was quite possible, though no one could say with any true certainty, that his family had considerable dealings in every form of questionable activity: from narcotics, to cage fights, to politics, to harlots.

        DaVu’Svien had only had ninety-four fights, yet Ce’Phus considered him to be the best fighter he had ever trained. Tragedy had forced him from competing, but he had taken his earnings and opened up a small tavern that catered to the cage fighting population. A shady, foul smelling, filth - inhabited hole in the wall: one of the most popular places in Azuca before the war.

        They would become a family, united beneath the guidance of Ce’Phus, and would forge the core unit of the Draggoth’s Den.

        No’Tyalc shook his head to relieve his torment. On countless occasions his memories had brought peace to his heart and a smile to his face, but now they served as a small means of comfort before the seriousness of his plight. He looked around the room - they were all there. Goa-Den and the others, A’Shinn and Cai-Din - they were all there. Their friendship had begun within the cages, survived the onset of the war, and had created a bond beyond any sense of reasoning between them: a bond that had been passed unto their chosen mates, and had secured them unto the same sacred sorrow.

        He shook beneath the weight of those sacred memories, and all who bore witness unto his anguish knew full well the true measure unto his suffering.

        The entirety of Eaa knew the story. But none, save for those within this room, could ever truly understand the depth of their pain.

        It wasn’t their fault, but it was still a hard thing to accept. The world considered them heroes; warriors without equal, but none knew the cost they had paid for such an honor.

        No’Tyalc paused momentarily, and looked over towards his nest. The pillows were saturated in blood, Ell’Da’s blood - his mate. That fact alone would’ve been of no true concern to No’Tyalc, Ell’Da was strong and her body was already healing from its trauma; but complications had arisen, and the situation had become dire.

         The act of bringing a seed into the world was a messy ordeal for their kind. Most females chose to undergo seed extraction instead of enduring the torment of a natural hatching. For Ell’Da - it was the second time that she had suffered such pain to bring his seed into the world. The nannites made it easier now, suppressing pain and stitching wounds, a far cry from the days of the First Generation.

          The hatching had been successful; it was the hatchling that was now in jeopardy. And Great Ancestor help him - there was nothing that No’Tyalc could do to help. The cries of his seedling tore into No’Tyalc’s heart, forcing the tears - which he had held in check - to flow freely down his face, and rendered him incapable of rational thought. He hurriedly wiped the tears from his eyes and looked around. For a mature Saurian to behave in such a manner would’ve been unacceptable for the honored warriors within this room, they were shrdars hardened within the cages and given breath beneath the sword; but the faces of those around him bore his pain and despair as greatly as his own, and he realized that his anguish was not his to bare alone.

          His mind continued to reel, searching for something to hold onto that would lift his spirit and return his strength, but only the frightful memory of that fateful day could be dredged up. The only other time in his life that he had ever felt completely helpless unto his fate.

           They fought hard on that day. Harder than any battle they had ever fought before, and far harder than any battle they had encountered since. His legs had shook beneath the weight of their endless assaults, and his arms grew weak from over exertion. The stench of emptied bowels; gutted intestines; bile; vomit; and rancid blood permeated his nostrils and still remained in his nose to this day - awakening him in the middle of the night with sweat drenching every aspect of his body.

            Great Ancestor - how they fought! Until they were waist deep in a fetid swamp of blood, guts, and broken bodies- murky and black as the ancient muck the Ancestors walked in- a thick and clinging fluid that swirled around you like some sick, wretched, slow moving syrup. The cries of his dere, desperate and weak, matched the cries he heard on that day. And when it was over - there was only the sound of utter silence, and the cold feel of Death’s fetid touch upon your heart.

             It took four days for him to pry himself from Death’s grasp, and another full cycle to climb through the mass of stinking bodies. Moments later - Goa-Den emerged. Then one by one - the others clawed their way through the rotting flesh. In the end, they had been reduced unto their true primal nature - caring less and less about their skill and weapons, and depending more and more upon sheer savagery and instinct. They had abandoned all thoughts of strategy and tactics, and had accepted the most fundamental rule of Life: Survive - at any cost. No’Tyalc’s jaws clenched tightly in frustration, as the vivid memories washed over him, and he lowered his head in grief.

            ” The Massacre at World’s Edge! “ That’s how history would remember it.

            There were others who could lay claim to being survivors of World’s Edge: a few Tecs; a few Nobles; and a few others that had fled into the surrounding areas in terror.

            They had seen them on the vid-monitors: speaking as if they truly knew what had occurred, and answering questions that they couldn’t possibly understand.

             But No’Tyalc knew the answers, he and the others, and none of them ever spoke about it. Yes! There were other survivors - perhaps three hundred in total. But of the great Saurian army that Ce’Phus had gathered; that noble force of valiant shrdars that had brought Eaa back from the brink of extermination; that gallant Herd of over twenty-six million brave soldiers - only those within this room had survived: living testaments unto the bloodiest, and most vicious battle in the history of Eaa.

             No’Tyalc shook the memories from his head; he had enough problems to deal with in the present, and concentrated on the issue at hand. ” One moment of desperation at a time. “ He thought to himself.

             He walked over to the window and gazed out into the….. Darkness? It was night now? Had so much time elapsed since their ordeal began?

             He peered into the sky. He wished that Luna would break free of the clouds and gaze down upon them, but he knew it was a frivolous thought. Only the clouds were a constant now- the clouds and the rain.

             It had been that way since before his hatching. Before the hatching of all of Eaa’s seeds: except the First Generation - the ones that could still remember at least. He had grown up listening to the Elders spin their tales of how Luna and her great brother Sol once played their game of chase across the skies of Eaa - guiding their steps on each day and night. But that was a long time ago, and only the clouds dominated the skies now. To see Luna, or Sol - in this age - was a rare occurrence indeed.

             The rains had stopped, momentarily at least, but No’Tyalc chose to look at it as a good sign. Perhaps The Great Ancestor was holding back the rain, and it meant that his dere would live.

             “ Is there nothing that can be done? Perhaps we should give the hatchling the damned nannites anyway! Truly, what could it hurt at this time? “ Bi’Lar had finally lost his patience, not surprisingly, although this time he was actually speaking - aloud - what was on everyone’s mind.” Each of us has some degree of the Draggoth’s Blood within us. No’Tyalc has more of it than anyone - or at least he did until now. My point is - we all have a small measure of the blood, we all have nannites, and we’re fine. “ He looked towards the nest with the slightest hint of hope shining brightly in his eyes. “ Maybe the little one will survive as well. He’s No’Tyalc’s dere, isn’t he! The hatchling was given breath to fight!“

             Mother Healer prayed silently, her hands gently wiping the sweat from Ell’Da’s face with a dampened cloth, as she sat quietly with Ell’Da upon the nest. Physically - Ell’Da was past the worst of it now, and her body was rapidly regenerating; but mentally - it would take several spans before her mind would recover from the hatching.

             Nannites were truly a wondrous application, but they had serious flaws that Mother Healer was very outspoken about. Not the least of which was the euphoric state the female was placed in during the act of hatching. It was meant to ease the female’s mental suffering, something that she could truly appreciate, but it had a major drawback - as far as she was concerned. The female was left totally disoriented and barely cognitive of her own actions. For Mother Healer, a Saurian of the First Generation, this wasn’t simply a matter for concern; but - during her age - it would’ve been a clear invitation to lunch for an unwanted guest.

             She offered soothing words of reassurance to Ell’Da, and gently stroked her hair. Even in her confusion it was obvious that Ell’Da knew something was wrong; she simply couldn’t bring herself to focus on it. She bent low, and softly kissed Ell’Da on her forehead. She had helped to bring Ell’Da into the world, had helped to bring most of those within this room into the world, and it was tearing her apart to know what Ell’Da would have to endure when her mind finally cleared. She offered more words of encouragement, and then quietly left the nest.

              She shot the others a stern glance, one that spoke volumes above her actions, and conveyed far more than any words could’ve ever said. Her heart was in turmoil, her soul tortured as greatly as any affliction a Rachni could place upon it, yet she displayed little emotion that would betray her demeanor.

             ” That will be enough, Young Bi’Lar. “ Her words carried plenty of weight, but there was little force directed at the temperamental Saurian. ” Were such a thing possible, I would’ve suggested it long ago. As it is not, we are left with little that can be done. “

              She walked over to the small nest surrounded by several Tecs. It was common to call the Tecs at times such as these. In most cases, all cases to be precise, it was a simple matter of a blood test to confirm the suspicion, and then a quick adjustment to the nannites to compensate for it.

              But Mother Healer wasn’t some incompetent novice, she was nearly three generations older than any one else in this room, and was well aware that the hatchling was possessed of Draggoth’s Blood: she had delivered far to many hatchlings to miss the signs now. The slight Sol kissed tint to the eyes; the small bumps that trailed down the center of the back from the base of the neck unto the tip of the tail - the precursors of the great bony platelets, and sharp spines, that would come with age; all were signs.

              But this time was different. She didn’t need a blood test, or the worried looks on the Tec’s faces, to tell her that - she could feel it. She didn’t know how - or why - but she could, and it scared her to death. Because the dere of No’Tyalc had not merely been hatched with a measure of Draggoth’s Blood: his blood was pure draggoth. And - Great Ancestor help him - that would be his death.

              The Tecs continued to do everything that they could to rationalize the situation. Their fingers danced over their instruments in a frenzied - yet rhythmic - motion. Looking; hoping; searching desperately for something, anything, that might explain what was happening. But for each thought, the system would return the same woeful response, and their plight grew worse.

              “ Frell! This doesn’t make any damned sense! “ The Tecs had remained emotionally removed from the situation for nearly two spans, maintaining a purely professional attitude throughout the whole ordeal, but now their frustrations were beginning to show. None of this fit into the grand scheme of things that they had so neatly concluded for the world of Eaa.

               For a Tec - the whole of creation can be surmised with numbers and equations, or theories and hypothesis. The world, itself, was one of countless spread aimlessly throughout Creation, and life was just a chance happening that occurred under the most perfect of circumstances- the ultimate accident: the perfect distance from Sol; the perfect mixture of gasses operating at the perfect balance; the precise rate of exchange between organic material and plant material; and the perfect gravitational conditions to allow life to grow unfettered. Perfect conditions - that equaled perfect solutions. Life began in primordial swamps and was nurtured by the great seas for billions of seasons before finally crawling its way onto ancient shores. With each passing moment and painstaking advancement life evolved, and matured unto the numerous species that inhabit the world today. It was simple, quiet, and - more importantly - it fit the countless theories and equations that they had conceived for Creation itself.

               But those within this room were of great concern unto the Tecs, because they represented a small portion of the world’s population that carried a certain anomaly that threatened to tear apart the neat little picture they had created. A certain blood deficiency that the Elders claimed to be Draggoth’s Blood. An unproven belief that gave breath unto a psycho-dependant form of fanaticism that would later bare the title of Religion.

               Most Tecs only humored the concept of an Omnipotent Being - The Great Ancestor - and barely devoted any consideration unto his validity at all; but - according to most religious doctrines - The Great Ancestor was solely responsible for creating Eaa, and everything within Creation.

               According to several religious doctrines,

              - When The Great Ancestor had finished with creation, and had set all events into motion, he sought a place to rest. Finding nothing suitable to his comforts - The Great Ancestor created Eaa, and made of it a paradise: filled with lush lands, fruit filled gardens, and beautiful seas. In his kindness, The Great Ancestor brought life unto Eaa. A race known only as the Draggoth: great creatures of immense power and ferocity whose intelligence far surpassed that of Saurian Tecs today.

              As it is stated in most Religious Doctrines: … And so it was that peace came to dwell upon Eaa for countless generations, and Tem’Ra-Dor - the Draggoth Lord - did go unto The Great Ancestor, and bid him to fill the Four Lands with life.

              Yet The Great Ancestor was hesitant in agreeing unto Tem’Ra-Dor’s request, and he said unto him, “ Blood of the Creator, … “ For that was the proper translation of Tem’Ra-Dor’s name in Draggoth. “. You are kind to wish to share your world with others. Yet kindness is not always an attribute of wisdom, and that which you ask shall be a burden unto the Keepers of the Peace. But, if it is what you truly wish, I will grant this request unto you - for a Charge of your race. “

               And Tem’Ra-Dor’s sealed the Draggoth unto this Charge, and The Great Ancestor created life upon the Four Lands of Eaa.

               And so it was that life flourished upon Eaa for countless seasons - until a great seed fell from the farthest reaches of Creation, and struck Eaa with such force that fire consumed her for three seasons without end, and threatened to destroy all that was the world.

               But The Great Ancestor had made life resilient, and against all odds - life survived on staggered legs.

               But the damage unto Eaa had been done. For a great black cloud of dust and debris now hung over Eaa, searing the lungs and afflicting the body with sores and sickness, and cast the grim shadow of Death upon the world. And the Ancestors were driven to the height of madness, in desolation and despair, and were reduced unto scavengers: drinking from the blood filled waters, and feeding upon the bodies of the dead to continue their dreary existence.

                Yet all was not lost - for The Great Ancestor had bore witness unto the events that had transpired, and he came unto the Ancestors and offered unto them a great Gift.

                And many accepted the Gift and became those of the First Generation; while others rejected it, and remained forever - as the Ancestors. –

                For most Tecs - it was purely religious nonsense: fanatical rhetoric, incapable of providing even the most minimal of facts to support its conclusion, that didn’t deserve serious attention. But this unsubstantiated perspective was the basis for the Elders’ belief in Draggoth’s Blood - because it provided a reason for what was occurring to them. And since the blood of the Draggoth was spilled into the waters as greatly as their own - it had been passed on throughout the bloodlines, and had created those afflicted with the disorder.

                The debate between Evolutionist and Creationist was an ongoing conflict - even unto this day - but Mother Healer kept her thoughts to herself. She was a First Generation Saurian, one of the precious few that still lived, and didn’t need equations or religion to give validity unto those dark days. She was more than happy to allow the Tecs to form their opinions about the races of Eaa, Eaa itself, Creation, and even about Draggoth’s Blood. Such things didn’t concern her. She was a Healer - a longtime member of the Faith: a sacred sect that had devoted themselves to the old ways of kindness and understanding to all people, despite their beliefs.

                Creation; Evolution; the issue could be debated for the rest of time - if they wished - but now was not one of those times, and she pushed the thoughts from her mind. The hatchling was the only thing of concern, and she cast aside her mistrust for Tecs and addressed them in a casual tone.

                “ Have your instruments obtained any useful information, ShrTec Ra’Dimus? I would not wish to rush you; but time is not a luxury that we are afforded at this moment.“

                A proper greeting, addressing him by name and title, that fact alone was enough to alert Ra’Dimus unto the severity of the situation that now existed among them; but - unfortunately - his answer would only serve to aggravate the situation even worse. He gathered his thoughts, trying to steady his voice, and tried to match her tone: failing miserably.

                “ We are trying to asses the situation, Mother Healer, but as I’m sure you’re aware of - the matter presents a very unique situation. “ His voice was weak, shaky - the voice of an shrdar who was near the limits of his sanity - and was closely approaching that thin line that separated fact from fiction. ” Theoretically - this shouldn’t be happening at all; but even after a generation of studies, there is still much that we don’t understand about Saurian Deficiency Disease. “

                A low menacing growl escaped from the throat of Bi’Lar, a sentiment that seemed echoed by everyone within the room, and a sharp knot began to grow within Ra’Dimus’ throat.

                “ I would think carefully about how you use the term “ disease “, ShrTec Ra’Dimus! Or have you forgotten that you are addressing a room - full - of the diseased! “

                Ra’Dimus seemed to shrink back from the words even as they were spoken. His nerves were already rattled by the mere existence of the hatchling, and the grim expressions upon the faces before him only made his discomfort that more pronounced.

                “ Forgive me, Master Trainer Bi’Lar. I can assure you that I meant no insult towards you, or anyone else, within this room. I was merely stating the given Tec term used to describe such cases. It was not meant in disrespect. “

                 A’Shinn dismissed the cracked apology with a wave of his hand. ” Answer the question, Ra’Dimus! “ His patience was growing thin, beginning to match that of Bi’Lar, and his tone was growing ever increasingly somber. ” It is not your personal opinion of us that is required; it is your expertise within this field! Now kindly continue!“

                 Ra’Dimus’ eyes widened with fear, as he looked upon the faces of the two Aphis of the Saurian Lands, and he quickly turned his monitor around - for all to see - and began his summation.

                “ I wish that our findings were more promising, Master Trainer No’tyalc. But the hatchling’s situation - truly - has us at a loss. “

                His finger danced over the keypad, and the anatomy of a Saurian physique was displayed upon the monitor.

                “ In most cases of Saurian D…. “ He paused as his eyes locked into those of Aphi A’Shinn.” …Of Draggoth’s Blood, there is measure of the disorder residing within the body. As you know: what makes Draggoth’s Blood so unusual is the nature of the blood itself - it is completely undetectable. This is not to say that the blood cannot be seen or touched, but that it can’t be registered by any instruments that we have to date. In fact - the only way that we are able to measure the amount of the disorder is by determining the amount of generalized blood, within the body, and then equating that amount with the standard norm and calculating the difference. Since our systems are capable of analyzing every aspect - of each type of generalized blood - it merely becomes a matter of percentages to accurately determine the precise ratio for the unknown. “

                His hands moved again, and the image of No’tyalc was displayed. ” Each of you has an unusually high percentage of Draggoth’s Blood residing within you. Master Trainer No’tyalc has the highest percentage ever recorded: nearly twenty-seven percent. The remainder of you average between eighteen and twenty percent - while others with Draggoth’s Blood average less than six. “

                Ra’Dimus was speaking his language now. Facts and figures, percentages and ratios, those were the things that made sense to him: not feelings and emotions. His voice grew strong with confidence, his eyes blazing with unyielding fervor, as he carried them further and further into his domain.

               His hands moved again, and this time the enlarged image of a single nannite was displayed.” The nannites are one of our greatest applications. They are capable of augmenting every facet of a Saurian’s being - from heightening intelligence, to increasing strength, increasing speed, increasing stamina, increasing regeneration abilities, and even providing a supply of oxygen, water, and nutrients when the body is deprived of such things. A soldier’s nannites - as you well know - can even solidify over the top layer of skin, and created a highly efficient armor. “

               The display changed, and the image of the Saurian anatomy returned.

               “ Nannites are not passed from one body unto another or from parent to seed - they are designed for that specific person, and are tied into the very DNA make-up of our separate beings. Each of us, from hatchling to Elder, registers differently unto the system. This insures an accurate accounting of our people: hatchings, deaths, injuries, location, and individual reports. Obviously - the system can register living organism without nannites; but the nannites insure a measure of personal safety in these trying times. “

               He continued. “ Under normal Saurian hatchings… “ His eyes darted up for approval before continuing. “… The nannites are administered easily: it’s simply a matter of drawing a sufficient amount of blood from the hatchling, and then introducing the nannites into it. Because of the body’s own immune system - the nannites are rejected at first, due to the blood’s natural assumption that the nannites are viral invaders, but this quickly changes. The nannites take on the properties of the blood, essentially becoming indistinguishable from a normal blood cell, and the blood readily accepts them as one of its own. Once recognized as a normal blood cell, the nannites then proceed to obtain a chromosomal link, on a bio- microscopic level, and essentially become the blood itself. The blood is then injected back into the host body, and the body accepts it willingly. The nannites are then spread throughout the entire body, generally within ten clicks, and the union is a complete genetic symbiosis success. “

                His voice lost the strength and fire it had held briefly, and began to shake and crack once more: a clear sign that he was finally getting to the point, and was once again unsure of his findings.

                “ With those of…Draggoth’s Blood … the process is basically the same: the blood is removed from the hatchling, and the nannites are administered. The only difference - is that the original nannites have to be adapted to compensate for the absent blood. What makes this possible is the presence of generalized blood. The nannites register the generalized blood and achieve a genetic link. The blood then allows the nannites to gain access into the unknown element - even though the nannites, in reality, can’t recognize it - and the symbiosis is obtained. The bonding causes a little discomfort, when the blood is returned unto the hatchling, but it soon passes, and the hatchling is fine. “

                Davu Svien’s eyes narrowed into a dark menacing stare. Perhaps it was a simple matter to introduce the nannites into a hatchling these days, to draw the blood from the hatchling and allow the cells to achieve their union outside of the body before introducing them unto the hatchling’s system, but it wasn’t always like that. For those like himself, the others, and those brave soldiers that received the nannites before the process became so damned convenient - the nannites were injected directly into the body, and the result wasn’t always so pleasant.

                For the lucky ones, the ones that died, it was only a matter of excruciating clicks. But for those poor souls that survived - the agony lasted for days: a passage of time that could be measured by the endless screams that tore from the throat.

                ShrTec Ra’Dimus continued. “ This process, for those of Draggoth’s Blood, has always been successful: as it was with Master Trainer No’Tyalc’s first dere - O’Jmm, and Aphi A’Shinn’s chere - Cor’Rin. “

                He paused; trying to gather his nerve to say what none of his colleagues could bring them to admit, and then reluctantly continued. ” The problem with Master Trainer No’Tyalc’s young hatchling, as mind – sick as it may sound, is that he doesn’t exist. “

                Muscles reacting from endless spans of tension were finally released, allowing No’tyalc to vent his frustrations upon something, and he lunged at the Tec.

                Ra’Dimus tripped over his tail in the effort to flee, falling unceremoniously unto the floor in terror, and began pleading for his life along with every other Tec in the room.

                No’tyalc struggled in the grip of Goa-Den, Bi’Lar, and A’Shinn - attempting to reach him, even as their mates pleaded with him to stop, and cursed the Tec for all he was worth. But in the end - it only took a stern look from Mother Healer to silence them all, and to return No’Tyalc to his pacing.

                Ra’Dimus shook violently, as his blood once again flowed through his body, and a soft touch from Mother Healer bid him to continue. “ Please, Master Trainer No’Tyalc, I meant no harm or disrespect! “

                His fingers danced over the pad once again, and he spoke clearly for all to hear.“ System! “ His voice was firm as he spoke. ” Verify the condition of the hatchling within this room! “

                The monitor blinked, as it initiated a scan of the room, and then a synthetic voice presented its results. ” Error. There is no hatchling present within the room. “ The helpless cries of the hatchling seemed to punctuate Radius’s point. “ Detailed scans detect only the presence of those of the Fourth Generation or older. “

                The system went silent.

                Mother Healer lowered her head in anguish. She had tried to maintain some resemblance of assurance beneath their stares and concerns; but her strength, along with the faint hope that she had been clinging to, were fading fast. Soon she would become as desperate as the others, and that - for her - was a dismal place that she didn’t ever want to revisit.

                Ell’Da shifted uneasily upon the pillows as the constant unrest within her den slowly began to pierce the shroud of euphoria that the nannites had laid upon her. A small measure of clarity was beginning to return to her, and with it - a painful sense of dread.

                Her mind swam through a murky bog of festering black haze and confusion; her body was racked with the dull reminder of torn membranes, ripped canals, and bruised cavities; yet - through it all - she could feel their tension and concern.

                She tried to open her eyes, tried to discern what was happening around her, but her efforts went in vain. The Saurian body had indeed evolved from the form of the Ancestors , whether that change was due to Evolution or unto The Great Ancestor was a matter of personal choice , but one thing was still certain - the female form was still primarily structured for egg laying , and that made the act of hatching extremely painful .

                She felt as though her mind and body were two separate entities. She could clearly feel the remnants of her ordeal; but her mind was detached - as if she had been sequestered unto some forgotten tower, and was watching the events through a great window.

                Her mind fought to regain possession of her body. She could feel the light playing softly against her face, just beyond the iron clad curtain that seemed to cover her eyes, but couldn’t seem to reach it. Her nannites were fighting against her, protecting her from herself, and were releasing more endorphins into her body to calm her. They had mended her body, knitting her nerves and veins back together and allowing her body to replenish the massive amount of blood that she had so freely given unto her nest, but the process of healing does not mean that one is healed. Her body had been restored, and her mind was fighting to return, but actual pain was another matter entirely. Nannites could absorb a great deal of trauma, but they couldn’t absolve her from an ordeal as blessed as reproduction. The endorphins were their only way of lessening this burden.

                 The nannites clung to her like great weights chained unto a boulder, seeking to keep her a prisoner within a painless paradise, yet she continued to hammer against the iron curtain with ever increasing ferocity.

                 She fought with everything that she was worth. Her mental fists left dents against the curtain as she pounded mercilessly against them; ages of endless training and war allowed her mental kicks to send tremors throughout her darkened prison; and a savage dance of skill, deserving of one who claimed the honor as No’Tyalc’s mate, allowed her to swing her mental tail - from any angle - and strike with bone shattering force. She wouldn’t fail! She couldn’t fail! Failure, in the face of such urgency, was not an option!

                 She continued, driven by a power that consumed every fiber of her being, until her mental body was bloodied and beaten. It would’ve been so easy to stop, to allow the nannites to sweep her away on a cloud of peace and tranquility, but she couldn’t. She could feel his need, hear the fear within his shrill cries that shook her unto her very core, and she wouldn’t relent.

                 Her screams began to match his. Began to match the sick agony that she felt within No’Tyalc’s silent despair. She reeled beneath the overpowering depth of hopelessness carried within those tiny pleas. She felt herself drowning in futility: the weight of weariness, her nannites, and her own emotions, finally taking their toll upon her and allowing frustration to set it. The darkness had not relented, despite her valiant attempts, and only her tears gave credence unto her efforts at all. Her mental body fell to its knees, beaten by the superiority of Saurian Tec, and defeat threatened to take her back into oblivion.

                “ What was that? “

                A sick twisted snap rippled down her spine and stabbed directly into her soul. Horror seized at her throat, and the sharp cries - that had so recently engulfed her - were no longer shrill and incoherent; but had become a small pain filled voice with only a single word carried upon it: “ Mother! “ The sound that tore from her throat was so vile that it held it no description. She found herself filled with a rage that would daunt the rampages of the Ancestors, and she welcomed it. She found renewed strength in a bond that was given to her by The Great Ancestor: a bond that was her right by an agonizing hatching: the bond of Mother and Seed. A bond that released a primal force within her far beyond anything that Saurian Tec could ever dare to comprehend. She tore the curtain from its awning, ripped the endless tapestries of darkness that had shrouded her for so long, and set ablaze the fetid bog that had mired her down in sinking sand. For her seed had called unto his Mother, and woe unto all things that would bar her way. And then.

                Light, barely more than a pinprick, but it was all that Ell’Da needed to force the heavy iron curtain of skin and eye lashes apart, and to pry open her eyes once again.

                 She wanted to speak, to demand that her hatchling be brought to her at once, but only a half garbled gasp found its way from between her lips: as searing pain reached forth and snatched the very breath from her. She shivered against its frigid touch, as spasm after spasm racked her body continuously, and she immediately understood the reason why her body had rebelled so passionately against her. But she hadn’t fought her way across a sea of endless darkness - only to be subject unto another prison within her mind. She silenced the screams that tried to force themselves free as she struggled to rise up her arm. She caught bits and pieces of conversations, “Saurian Deficiency “; “ Nannites “; “ Doesn’t Exist “; “ Please, Master Trainer No’Tyalc, I meant no harm “.

                 Her voice threatened to betray her, but she forced herself to remain calm, and found her tongue. “ No’Tyalc. “ It was almost inaudible, lost amidst the crushing oppression of imminent death and utter futility, but it was heard as clearly as a clap of thunder echoing throughout a cavernous mountain range. ” Bring me my dere. “ Her voice was choked with tears, and carried the sharp edge of pain upon it. ” He must feed. “

                 Her words tore No’Tyalc’s already troubled heart from its dreary resting place, leaving only a hollow shell for his broken anguish, and left him an empty vessel void of all things. He knelt upon the pillows beside her, no longer able to hide his pain in the memories of brutality and death, and lovingly took her hand into his.

                 Everyone in the room shared his torment, and even the Tecs could understand the measure of his grief.

                 For solus - it had been a private joke shared between them, and even Mother Healer had taken part in their quiet humor. All of their mates, with the exception of Sa’Cara, were heavy with seed. Their hatching dates were determined to be less than three percentages of a Solu between them, and Gro-Vall had initiated a small wager as to whose mate would be the first to reach the nest.

                 Ell’Da - as ironic as it seemed now - was the first, and No’Tyalc had won the wager.

                 No’Tyalc lowered his face unto hers, his tears falling softly upon her face and traveling the well made path of her own sorrow, and softly kissed her lips. He knew the magnitude of what she was offering, her dedication unto her duties as a Mother, and it strengthened his love for her - even as the gesture sapped the last of his resolve, and left him a shattered fragment of himself.

                 Goa-Den was forced to turn away, as the waves of his own emotions threatened to pull his soul into the putrid undertow of suffering, and he found himself fighting for his very sanity. No’Tyalc’s display unnerved him, and made this travesty of nature hard for him to witness.

                  Long before the prestigious status that they now shared, the two of them had been Cage Fighters. Good fighters! Two of the best ever! And he could say, with complete humility, that he and No’Tyalc had spilled more blood and shattered more bones - within those cages - than half the Saurian army throughout the entire war. In No’Tyalc he had found a spiritual brother: a mirror image of his own pathetic existence that had found release from his bitter life in the bliss of brutality. To see him in this manner - crying; sniveling; clutching unto his mate as though he was nothing more than a hatchling himself - was more than he could stand. 

                  He slammed his fist into the wall, venting his frustration and startling everyone, and leaving a massive gaping hole in his wake. Instantly the Den’s system came to life reporting the damage, assessing the situation, and dispatching nannites to make repairs.

                  Goa-Den rolled his mountainous shoulders in frustration - his anger wasn’t directed at No’Tyalc, but at his own inability to help. No’Tyalc’s response was justified. In fact - he was surprised that his friend had held on this long: a true testament unto his courage. The plight of the hatchling wasn’t the true focus of his pain either: he had learned, a long time ago, that life was a matter of harsh choices - with each one more difficult than the last. It was living with those choices that were beginning to bother him. And one of those choices was now a great spine encrusted knot that twisted and churned inside his belly like some ravenous burrowing worm.

                 He choked back his pain, forbidding himself to show weakness when his friend might need him the most, and faced the truth before him. His heart rate began to fall, his breathing became slow and almost nonexistent, and his muscles twisted into braided steel coils - as he struggled to maintain his composure. His mind drifted into that dark place that he often went during his matches within the cages. No’Tyalc knew that place well; Bi’Lar had once relished in it: A’Shinn, Cai-Din, Gro-Vall, Wr’All, Svien - all of them. They had all touched that dark place that seemed to absolve you from the horrors that you were about to inflict.

                 His blood burned within his body like liquid fire, his nannites fueling the flames with added strength and ferocity, and the sound of his massive shell like scales, rising from their inert position and snapping violently into place down the length of his back and tail, alerted the others that he had failed at his attempt at placidity.

                 Fre’Ya’s eyes widened in astonishment. She had met Goa-Den during the third age of the war, just after the battle at World’s Edge, and had become completely enthralled with him. His status as a noble soldier had long been established, and she had known of his reputation in the cages from the endless conversations held between her Father and his friends. Like most shrdars of simple means, her Father had been an avid fan of the Cage Fights. And though - at the time - she had never seen one personally; she was well aware of his legendary ferocity.

                 She felt as though her blood had turned to ice, as she watched this transformation come over the shrdar she loved, and felt as though she would never feel warmth again. She had heard the tales of his malevolence, heard the whispers of his ferocious nature during a battle, and witnessed his savage brutality - with her own eyes - during the battle at Fragnor; but she could honestly say - that nothing had prepared her for this.

                 It wasn’t fear or loathing that clutched at her heart, she had never held such things for Goa-Den, but the sudden realization of what was truly upon him.

                 She shook beneath the weight of her own sorrow, and now - with her eyes wide open - she had taken his burden upon her as well.

                 He had always been honest with her about everything. People would always talk, he couldn’t do anything about that, but he could insure that she always knew the truth about anything that he did. Ell’Da had had told her that much about him - when she decided to play matchmaker. She was skeptical at first, Goa-Den’s reputation was already at near mythic proportion, but she had to admit that the thought of the Mighty Goa-Den possibly challenging for her was very exciting, and - after a little convincing - Ell’Da talked her into it.

                 She looked back towards the nest, and unto Ell’Da. She was growing stronger within the comfort of No’Tyalc’s arms, but it would take an eternity for her to recover from this ordeal if things remained as they were. She fought back the tears that continued to fall from her eyes despite her best efforts, and her hands softly caressed her swollen belly as she offered up prayers unto The Great Ancestor for mercy. Ell’Da had been her best friend forever. They had known each other since they were hatchlings, and probably shared more secrets between them than the Saurian High Council. But more importantly - Ell’Da had introduced her to Goa-Den, and that was a kindness that she could never forget. For Goa-Den had become her laughter, her lover, her life, and that was a debt that she could never repay.

                  Her eyes returned to her mate. She wanted to comfort him, to calm the storm that was rising unto colossal proportion within him, but she knew that such a thing was beyond her - beyond anyone. There had been too much bloodshed, to many atrocities, and to many deaths shared between the shrdars, to even attempt to stem the tide of her mate’s emotions. She could only look upon him in sadness, and pity the duty that he had chosen for himself.

                  ShrTec Ra’Dimus worked feverishly over his console. His hands were a blur of motion, franticly searching for an answer to a question that he couldn’t even bring himself to ask, and desperately hoping that there was a rational end unto this night. From time to time his eyes would dart over to the nest. Ell’Da was pleading with No’Tyalc to bring the hatchling to her. Her faculties were nearly restored, and she had become fully aware of her hatchling’s peril.

                  He could see the pain rippling across No’Tyalc’s body, as he struggled to hold her down, and couldn’t help but to be moved. He knew that No’Tyalc could never let her anywhere near the hatchling, no matter how desperately she pleaded, or the result could be the death of them both.

                  He could feel the tension rising within the room, but most of all - he could feel his own fear beginning to surpass his rational thoughts. He wanted to raise his head and look, wanted to face his darkest fears straight on like the true Saurian warriors in this room; but an unrelenting insensible dread seized his heart, snatched his will, and left his courage broken. He dared a quick glance, hoping that his concerns were unfounded, but was rewarded with a sudden feeling of dizziness. Panic lifted the last remnants of fortitude from his body, and threatened to swallow it whole down its gaping maw. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but only silence found its way through his lips, and darkness fell upon him.

                  Mother Healer knew that it was wrong to allow Ra’Dimus to suffer in this way, but - in some strange way - she could only find justification in his torment.

                  She left the hatchling in the care of Ra’Dimus’ three companions. She wanted to be of some help, to do something more than offer words of encouragement, but there was little that she could do.

                  Despite the fact that she disagreed, often strongly, with many of their philosophies; she was quite proficient in the use of Saurian Tec. As a Healer - she was required to learn the methods, ideas, and beliefs, of all types: this enabled her order to properly minister to all races and creeds. She was even quite gifted at sorcery; though she loathed the very thought that it had come so easily to her. But such is the toll exacted upon those that choose to serve - for Healers cannot abide unto one singular caste, but must make themselves available to all the seeds upon Eaa.

                   The Tecs continued their discussion as she left them. Their conversation had traversed into the realm of Bio - Physics and Quantum Probabilities. She was familiar with both, but cared little for either, and took it as a clear indicator that she should step aside and leave the experts to the task at hand.

                    She had intended to speak with Goa-Den. She had practically given breath unto the massive Saurian, given breath unto all of them, and felt as though she could bring reason unto his heart and lessen his burden. And even Ce’Phus, himself, had felt her tail across his backside, and loved her as dearly as his own Mother: an honor she held with great pride.

                    It was obvious that Goa-Den was in pain, they all were, and his transformation unto this feral side was simply more obvious because of his tremendous size. But Goa-Den would have to wait. There was another who needed her guidance far more than he: Wr’All.

                    Wr’All continued to stare at Ra’Dimus - even as the Tec continued to nervously ignore him. But he knew. A limp tail of submission; shoulders hunched as if he was trying to hide within himself; a nervous twitch that shook his body from time to time - they were all signs. He knew. He knew damned well! And he knew he would pay!

                     There were many, including some who sat upon the High Council, that objected when the brothers honored Wr’All with the rank of Master Trainer - one of such “ questionable upbringing “ was not a proper choice for such a distinguished rank - but it was all smoke to Wr’All: foul, unpleasant, and distasteful - but annoyingly harmless in the end.

                     He couldn’t help who he was, or dismiss the things that he’d done - and he didn’t choose who his Father was, or unto which line he had inherited. And, if the decision were his to make, he wouldn’t change it if he could. His family was, by no means, of noble blood; yet they held an immeasurable amount of respect throughout the Four Lands of Eaa, and they provided. “ Services “ …… that even Ce’Phus had found a necessity for.

                     He was well aware of how others perceived him. That look that came upon their faces, as the blood drained from their body, when they heard his name. He knew the fear that his family’s line carried with it. Everyone did - including the High Council.

                     But those within this room held no such fear towards him. They didn’t curb their opinions, or hold their tongues, within his presence. They didn’t shrink away from confrontation, or bow down submissively before his anger. Those within this room didn’t care about his name, his upbringing, or his lineage. He needed that. Appreciated it. Cherished it. But it didn’t change who he was, or the fact that he wasn’t above using his hatch right whenever he felt it was beneficial.

                     The instant that he knew No’Tyalc’s hatchling was abnormal, even for one with S.D.D.; he was on his armlet speaking with his Father. ShrTec Ra’Dimus, along with three other distinguished Tecs, arrived within the next fifteen clinks to aid them.

                      Ra’Dimus’ rise among the Tecs was unprecedented. He was young; a Fourth Generation Saurian nearly twenty seasons younger than Cai-Din, but his intelligence - and his determination - seemed limitless. His theories and applications had revolutionized the entire world of Eaa, and his improvements in nannite development had greatly increased the Saurian Nation’s ability to defend itself. But while his potential knew no boundaries, his voracity for the “ Underground Pleasures “ was also limitless. And while he was quite adept at presenting theories, calculating ratios and percentages, and achieving stunning applications, he was completely inept at gambling. So inept, that the young Tec had long ago submerged himself into the clammy waters of debt, and was only alive because of the generosity of Wr’All’s Father: a precarious situation that Wr’All was fully aware of, and one that he had chose to exploit. And while Ra’Dimus’ immediate response to Wr’All’s need wouldn’t completely erase the incredible amount of debt he had acquired; it would show favorably towards his willingness to affect a rational solution to his problem.

                      But - unfortunately for Ra’Dimus - loyalty is often very irrational when it comes to friendship, and the threat of loss can carry an acid tipped sword.

                      Wr’All’s emotions ate into his tortured soul, and warped his sense of perception into a dangerous wave of hatred towards the Tec. He had failed him! Failed to be of any value at all! And as a result - Wr’All had failed No’Tyalc and Ell’Da. And failure, as his Father had taught him, was not acceptable! Hatred swept over him, lifting him to his feet, but a small hand - soft yet seemingly layered with hidden strength - guided him back into his chair.

                      Mother Healer wrapped her arms around him, and lovingly kissed him upon his forehead. A massive lump caught in his throat as his hatred and anger fought for release; but her calming voice - soft and soothing - allowed him to swallow his anguish, and accept the truth of her words. “ Be at ease, my Young Wr’All. It is not Ra’Dimus’ fault that this is beyond his knowledge. Nor is it your fault that he could not be of any service. Sometimes, we must accept that we are but instruments of The Great Ancestor, and that beyond our own wants and desires - is His Will. “

                       She continued to whisper softly to Wr’All as she held him. When she felt she had finally calmed his spirit - she kissed him softly upon the cheek, and turned her attention towards No’Tyalc and Ell’Da.

                       Ell’Da’s blood was still wet upon the pillows within her nest, a grim reminder of the sacrifice she had endured for the hatchling, yet Mother Healer lowered herself to the pillows and crawled over to the tortured parents - heedless of the blood that was staining the Holy Robes of her Order.

                       No’Tyalc held her protectively: tender and considerate - the gentle caress of a lover in mourning; yet firm and persistent - the telling strength of a mate who must carry them through this awful madness. She placed a hand upon both of them, and prayed unto The Great Ancestor for mercy and guidance. Her words were soothing, but she knew they were only a small measure of comfort at best. She glanced over towards the Tecs. The cries of the hatchling were fervent now, the angry shrill cries of a hatchling long past his tolerance for hunger and his patience for being poked and prodded, and her concern began to worsen. She had never seen such dismal dispositions upon the faces of Tecs, and she found herself turning back towards Ell’Da to prevent such concern from inflicting further pain upon her. “ Do not let his cries bring you grief, belle. Your hatchling is strong, and The Great Ancestor has need of such strength upon this world. The hatchling’s very nature is proof of this. “

                       Her words carried the truth of her heart; but Ell’Da’s tortured pleas - to allow her to feed her seedling - were a constant reminder of the little comfort that they brought, and only served to plunge her further into that dark chasm of despair.

               She wanted to be patient, wanted to take Ell’Da into her arms and hold her until the tragedy had passed, but The Great Ancestor had shown her that patience isn’t always the best solution for every problem. Sometimes you must assert your right - as The Great Ancestor’s seed - and demand that the world bend unto your will: as a sculptor forces the stone to bend unto his.

               A savage snarl ripped from Ell’Da’s throat, and her instinct to protect her seed - at any cost - forced her to begin struggling again. She lashed out at No’Tyalc: her teeth biting into his arm, and tearing great chunks of flesh away from him. Her hand raked across his face and body, allowing her claws to rip into his skin to tear flesh and clothing into tattered shards, and she cursed his very breath for allowing their Seed to die in this manner.

               Mother Healer seized her violently by the shoulders, hoping that the sudden jolt would snap some sense into her, and brought a sudden Holt unto her tirade. ” Ell’Da! “ Her eyes met the tear stained eyes of the grieving Mother with a fire that sapped the very breath from her. ” You must stop this foolishness, belle! Your pain is understandable - your reaction is not! “ Her grip tightened around Ell’Da’s shoulders, causing her to wince in pain. ” Does the plight of your seed hold more weight than those who came before him? How many hatchlings have you witnessed being placed upon their Pyre for one reason or another? How many heart wrenching ceremonies have you attended? And how many times have you held those helpless belles and told them to be strong during those last moments - so that the last image that their hatchling might see would not be that of their Mother’s tortured face? “

               Her voice softened, as did her grip, and she calmly addressed Ell’Da. ” Tell me, Ell’Da. What would happen - if we were to let you feed your hatchling? “

               Ell’Da wanted to respond with the same fervor that Mother Healer had presented to her. She wanted to invoke the same soul searing passion, seize her by the shoulders in an iron grip, and say, “ My dere will live, you faithless sow! And he will grow into a great warrior despite your best efforts! “. But pain couldn’t blind her to the truth; and her anger was replaced by shame.

               She reached her hand to No’Tyalc’s face, his nannites had already stitched his wounds, and she searched his eyes looking for the harsh rebuttal that she deserved. But instead of anger or malice, she found only love: the understanding of a mate who desperately wanted to release his own frustrations upon someone. His eyes, his pain, his forgiveness - gave her the will to answer Mother Healer’s question. ” He will die if I feed him. “ The words rolled across her tongue like barbed marbles; but once spoken - they seemed to release her soul from the ravages of guilt, and the desolate feeling of failure. ” We both might. “

                She fell into No’Tyalc’s arms, releasing her spirit from its darkened prison, and found comfort in her tears. She wanted desperately to stay there in his arms: loved, safe, and protected from the endless responsibilities of life. But it wasn’t meant to be. He deserved better. Their hatchling deserved better. She pulled herself from his embrace, and nodded her head approvingly - towards Mother Healer - to show that she had regained a measure of her sanity. She raised her shoulders and straightened her back - regaining a small degree of her dignity - and reclaimed a small amount of her honor as well. She wiped her eyes, and felt the stinging pain of overexertion. Her eyes were normally a dazzling topaz with brilliant flecks of dark green - a trait that had attracted No’Tyalc immediately - but were now a crimson red that even the nannites would be hard pressed to remove.

                 Mother Healer smiled at her, for her courage, and then turned towards Ra’Dimus and the other Tecs: a heavy sigh escaping her lips. ” Such is the price we must pay for our arrogance. For thinking that Saurian Tec - is superior unto the will of The Great Ancestor. “ She shook her head disapprovingly. ” Nannites are a wondrous application. And they have allowed our people to survive many hardships against an enemy that attacks without reason, and knows no mercy. But the cost - was as great as the application itself. The nannites have made the milk within our breast strong and pure - richer beyond the Tecs wildest dreams. A Mother needs only to suckle her seed for a few spans; instead of the full time that The Great Ancestor intended - a Tec breakthrough that has saved many lives; and one that has resulted in just as many deaths.“ She lowered her eyes to her own breast, and remembered the loss of her own seedling. ” The milk is so fine, so pure, that it is literally as lethal as Rachni venom for a hatchling. And only after a hatchling has been given its nannites to fight that venom: can they even begin to suckle at their Mother’s breast. But for those whose hatchlings reject the nannites, or for those whom the Tecs do not reach in time, or for that one case of S.D.D. that the Tecs can’t understand - there is no hope. “

                Tears fell from her eyes as she relived her own torment, it wasn’t the same, but the pain was just as real. ” For a hatchling who has not received their nannites - it’s the equivalent of pouring molten steel onto Styrofoam. And once that energetic reaction has taken place, the hatchling’s saliva becomes so acidic that it can literally eat its way through its Mother’s breast - her entire body - within a matter of moments: despite her nannites best efforts to prevent it. “ Her words were filled with the endless sorrow of regret, a torment that she had bore for generations, and she cleared her throat to regain a slight glimmer of the dignity that her Order was known for. ” Saurian Tec is truly a wondrous thing. And were it not for this war - it is possible that the nannites might allow a Saurian to live forever. But Tec is not divine, and the sadness we must now bare - is the fact that we are incapable of continuing our species without the use of something so frail. We dared to place ourselves above the will of The Great Ancestor, and condemned ourselves unto dependency. The price we must pay for our arrogance. “

                   Ell’Da choked back her tears, the threat of returning to that dismal place weighing heavily upon her, and summoned the courage to face her own anxiety. “ No’Tyalc. “ Her voice was shaky, but strong: the voice of a Mother filled with the determination to accept the inevitable of what was to come. ” Please, let me see our dere. “

                  No’Tyalc lost himself to his pain. His anguish forced his tears to flow freely once again, and rendered him small and weak before his mate and dearest friends. But despite his emotional concerns - Ell’Da could find no weakness within him, and she raised her hand and softly caressed the face of her beloved mate. ” Please, No’Tyalc. Let us look upon our hatchling together. Let him look upon the face of his Mother and Father - and know that he is loved. Let him look upon us, and see how grateful we are unto The Great Ancestor for blessing us with such a noble dere. And for him to see how truly proud we are of him. Let that be the last thing that he sees as he enters the Great Hunting Grounds - not the dishonor that we have shown him this far. “

                  There were no words that could convey his feelings. No thoughts or actions that paralleled the magnitude of his love for her at that moment. There was only one thing certain in No’Tyalc’s life: his love for Ell’Da was endless. And woe unto any that would dare to challenge for her and take that from him.

                  Ell’Da could see him fighting to give clarity unto his words, trying to display strength before her, but in the end - it really didn’t matter. Unto her – everything that issued from his lips was the breath of a warrior, and there was nothing that he, nor anyone else, could ever do to change that.

                  No’Tyalc gathered his strength, hardened his will, and nodded his head in agreement. ” Let us see our dere. “

                  Mother Healer could only look upon them with a warm sense of pride. She could scarcely image the innumerable bodies that had been broken beneath those arms, the limitless opponents that were rendered senseless by his massive blows, and the infinite number of Rachni that had been slaughtered in his grasp; yet now they nudged their way gently beneath of Ell’Da, and lifted her with a tenderness that left her speechless.

                  His touch was soft, quiet, and caring - as though she were glass, wafer thin, and the slightest discomfort might cause her to shatter into a thousand pieces.

                  There would be pain. There would always be pain. But gone was that wretched look of hopelessness, that had lingered upon them like a festering boil of agonizing cruelty, and she looked upon them - with all of her noble grace - and stood with them in the acceptance of what was to come.

                  The cages had forged their bonds; the war had united them; and the savagery at World’s Edge had bound them together for life. And as No’Tyalc and Ell’Da made their way unto the small nest - they all stood, and made their way with them.

                   Cai-Din wiped the tears from his eyes, and nodded his head knowingly. ” ShrTec Ra’Dimus. “ His voice was filled with the weight of his emotions. ” You and your associates may stop now. Leave the hatchling unto his fate. “

                   Panic seized Ra’Dimus by the throat; instinct nearly convinced him to risk injury and jump through the window; but fear held him firmly in its grasp, and rendered him motionless. His eyes locked pleadingly onto those of Wr’All, and found that dark stare that he had so desperately tried to avoid. His breathing quickened, his heart raced, and sweat drenched his face as greatly as the rain ever had.

                  He threw himself back into his chair, knocking over two of his colleagues and nearly tipping himself over, and desperately began working again. ” Perhaps there is something that we’ve overlooked, Aphi Cai-Din. With a little more time - I’m certain that we can ascertain the problem, and find a solution to save the hatchling. “

                  His voice was barely coherent, a mixture of high pitched shrills and mangled syllables, and was nothing short of disgusting for someone of his rank.

                  Bi’Lar could only look upon the most distinguished of all Saurian Tecs, and shake his head in pity. ” Wr’All! Would you please get this pathetic creature out of the way! “

                  Wr’All lowered his head in anger. He knew it was the right thing to do - but to do so would be to admit his failure. To admit to him, that despite all that he was and all that the world feared - when those who truly loved him needed him the most; he had failed them. And his failure - had resulted in the death of their hatchling.

                  He lifted his eyes unto No’Tyalc and Ell’Da. He wanted to speak, wanted to say how truly sorry he was for letting them down; but tears choked his voice, and not even the faintest sound could find its way through their salty grasp.

                  Mother Healer stood before him - her smile was warm and forgiving. ” You have honored yourself, and your friends, beyond all expectations - Young Wr’All. But it is time for the suffering to end: time for closure. “ She took his face into her hands.” There is nothing that can be done, Wr’All. Not by me, or Ra’Dimus, or anyone. No one is above the will of The Great Ancestor, Wr’All: not even the dere of Phi’Lostat. “ She kissed him softly upon his cheek. ” It is time for closure, Wr’All. Let No’Tyalc and Ell’Da tell their hatchling of their love for him, and of the love that their dearest friends held for him. “

                  Wr’All looked into the eyes of No’Tyalc, and found the absolution he so desperately needed: a single look that tore into his pain, and lifted his burden from his shoulders.

                   He steadied himself, a deep sigh escaping his lips, and then turned towards Ra’Dimus. ” ShrTec Ra’Dimus, stop. “

                   He swallowed the iron lump that was his pride, and continued. ” Leave the hatchling alone. Your efforts, on this night, will be rewarded. They will go a long way towards ……… “ He chose his words carefully. “…the advancement of your career. Thank You.“

                   Ra’Dimus stared blankly at the screen. In many ways Master Trainer Wr’All and himself were of the same nature: obsessive unto a fault, and unwavering in their convictions. For shdars such as them, there was no greater weight to bear than failure. He shut off the system - there was no need for it now. No need to remind No’Tyalc and Ell’Da of what was already branded into their hearts. He pushed back, and stood away from the small nest. His eyes sought the protection of the floor; his shoulders slumped and withdrew into his chest; and his tail went limp, and dragged heavily across the floor: the clear signs of a shrdar in submission. The clear signs of a shrdar in defeat.

                   Ra’Dimus dere K’Ron et Sh’Rada had never been a brave shrdar. His mind was his power, his intellect was his sword, and his genius had made him into a Tec legend. But those that stood before him were hatched as warriors, forged of iron and steel, pawns unto the will of Chaos and Order, and had bathed in the blood of their enemies. Before such nobility - how could he not find his own courage at this moment? “ I’m truly sorry, Master Trainer No’Tyalc. Ell’Da. I beg you to forgive my ignorance, and to excuse my incompetence. “ He sighed heavily. ” The sad truth - is that I desired the survival of your hatchling as greatly as anyone. Perhaps not for the same reasons; but I do believe that the knowledge we could’ve learned from your dere - could have gone a long way unto understanding S.D.D. “ He lowered his head in shame. ” May his last breath be strong? “

                   No’Tyalc approached, and lowered Ell’Da to her feet. She was shaky, definitely tired, and perhaps still a little befuddled - as the nannites slowly returned all of her senses unto her; but she stood beside of her mate, with their closest friends surrounding them, and they looked upon their helpless hatchling.

                   Tears flowed like the breaking of a great dam, threatening to pull them all into its rapid undertow, but Ell’Da remained strong - finding the courage to look beyond the harsh screams, and to see the hatchling within. Her hand locked tightly into that of No’Tyalc’s, her face beaming with pride for her accomplishment, and a soft smile mercifully found its way to her lips.

                   “ He looks like you, Tyalc: your very twin. Had I not endured the pain - I might even say that you had hatched him yourself. “

                   Davu’Svien forced back his tears, and placed his hand upon No’Tyalc’s shoulder. ” He has a courage undefined, my friends! To leave the safety of his egg, and brave the perils of Death with his first breath - is a clear sign of his status! But to do so with a face like that - is courage beyond my comprehension! “

                   The room filled with a mixture of silent tears and soft laughter. Forcing No’Tyalc to shake his head in embarrassment, and allowing Ell’Da to kiss him softly on the cheek in loving humor.

                   The tension was gone: the last remnants being broken by Svien's loving remarks. Ce’Phus had declared that Davu’Svien’s talent for diplomacy was his greatest gift. The ability to stand before Nobles, and Commoners, and find something that was of common interest unto them both was a blessing unto the Saurian race. For on this could friendships be built, armies raised, and a Nation given breath?

                   Ell’Da clutched tightly onto her hatchling, kissing him softly, and then returned him to his nest. She felt the strong arms of No’Tyalc surrounding her, returning a small measure of security to her life, and said what needed to be said. ” He doesn’t need to suffer, Tyalc. His courage has already been proven. His bravery proudly displayed. Let him enter into the Great Hunting Grounds with honor. “

                   No’Tyalc nodded his head, and kissed her softly. He reached his hand forth and felt the iron grasp of his dere upon his finger. He smiled, and softly offered unto his dere the only thing that a shrdar like him could give.

                                       - “ Spilled of Blood: abandoned by light,

                                            Lost unto pain - the abyss in sight.

                    Perhaps he could’ve said something different, something warm and comforting - last words that would show his love for his dere. But for those within this room, those who knew him best, he had done just that. He had given his dere the highest honor that one raised within the bowels of society could ever know. The only honor that he had ever known: the honor of the Cages.

                    Goa-Den stepped forth - his eyes filling with tears. His heart overcome with the anguish of what had been elected for him.

                     Fre’Ya’s could feel it. Could feel the increasing torment - within his soul - with every passing moment. She had been aware of his decision for some time now; yet the moment was far greater than she had thought to bear.

                     She wanted to reach out to him - to bar his way and plead with him to allow someone else do this, but she held her tongue. She wouldn’t dishonor him in such a manner. There was a bond between the males that none of them dared to intrude upon. An unwritten code of ethics and understandings shared between them. No’Tyalc, Goa- Den, Bi’Lar, Wr’All, Davu’Svien, and Gro-Vall: they all served A’Shinn and Cai-Din willingly. Each of them were Aphis in their own right, capable of challenging for the position of leader at any time, but they chose to protect the descendants of Ce’Phus from such challengers, and had forged a pack united against all comers. Goa-Den’s actions were not a matter of malice or hatred, but a matter of the shared honor between them: for had the situation been reversed - it would’ve been No’Tyalc that would have stepped forth to end the hatchling’s suffering. Those two, No’Tyalc and Goa-Den, were the poor souls that the others had agreed upon. They were the ones given unto this grim honor for their pack.

                      A slight breeze, unnoticed by Ra’Dimus and the other Tecs, caught their attention, and halted Goa-Den in mid -step. No’Tyalc turned towards the door of his nestroom. He glanced towards the monitor panel - nothing. His senses betrayed him. He sniffed deeply, allowing the scents to enter into him, and verified the suspicions that they were all feeling. He sniffed again. Mud! Strong and heavy! Coupled with the sudden change, in therms, within the air - it meant only one thing. A door, perhaps a window, had been opened.

                      The soft sound of water dripping onto his floor gave credence unto his assessment, and the half muffled cough, of a throat being cleared, provided a dire and direct answer. Someone had violated the sanctity of his home.

                      The soft sound of creaking steps began to echo throughout the den. No’Tyalc glanced at the monitors once more, but the sensors still continued to register nothing. He roared in defiance, his nannites surging through his body and stimulating the upper level of his skin to form the glory that is Saurian armor, and answered his challenge. A quick glance, behind him, assured him of what he already knew - his nestroom was secured.

                      Goa-Den had taken the position behind him, and would follow him through the door; A’Shinn and Cai-Din had positioned themselves at the sides, flanking the entrance: while the others had positioned themselves strategically around the room to cover any gaps. Ell’Da stood guard over the tiny nest, with Sa’Cara protecting her and the hatchling, and the other shrbelles surrounding the nest in defiance. He nodded his head towards Mother Healer, and she returned his nod knowingly. In a worst-case scenario - she would take the hatchling and flee out of the window to protect him.

                      ShrTec Ra’Dimus wasn’t exactly sure of what was going on, but he knew the signs of impending battle all to well. Honor demanded that he take his place with the other shrdars, in defense of the room; but common sense guided him into the far corner of the room - on the opposite side of the great nest - with his three colleagues cowering behind him.

                      There was no need for words: nor were any ever expected. They were all willing to die to protect his den, his seed, and his family - at any cost.

                      War is a harsh and brutal thing: unforgiving in its torment, merciless in its aggression, and relentless in its torture. But it’s also the greatest of all instructors, for it’s the supreme motivator for learning, and those within this room were some of its brightest students.

                      A’Shinn’s voice was low and purposeful- the voice of a leader- but it carried the sharp edge of every blade within the room layered within it. ” See to your den, No’Tyalc! “

                      A low threatening growl was his only response as he and Goa-Den left the room. The massive Saurian secured the door behind them and took his place as sentry before the entrance. Unto Goa-Den - warriors such as he and No’Tyalc could care less about the reason for an attack. For shrdars like them - just knowing your enemy was sufficient: and often, that was a luxury. Such matters were concerns for diplomats and Tecs, not for warriors. For Goa-Den - his concerns were of a simpler nature. If it gets past No’Tyalc, it doesn’t get past him!

                      No’Tyalc walked the length of his hallway, cautiously, as it lead him unto the stairwell. Saurian dens could be quite large, Gro-Vall’s was like a miniature mountain range, and were massive structures of architectural wonder that towered high into the gloomy sky.

                      He stopped at the top of the stairwell, allowing himself to gather his bearings, and listened attentively. The creaking of the stairs had changed pitch, as the intruder continued upwards, and No’Tyalc began to assess the situation.

                      Most Saurian dens were completely sound proof: the nannites within their systems absorbed the sound, and funneled the waves continuously, until they had completely dispersed. But No’Tyalc was a warrior hatched - his very life lived through the eyes of caution. The nannites within his steps were actually programmed to signal a different tone for each level of his den. This could be avoided by following a certain pattern, of course, but an uninvited guest wouldn’t know that pattern.

                      The pitch changed again - level three. The intruder was in no particular hurry to reach them, or to vacate his home. His nestroom was on level six, with only an attic with thin flooring above them, but he couldn’t hear any footsteps overhead: a fact that was of little comfort to him. The intruder was just as silent below - with only the creaking stairs and the smell of mud and rain giving credence unto his being there at all.

                      Ages of training prompted him to check the lift sphere, the floating platform was the preferred method of reaching a certain level instead of using the stairs, but the lift was still locked into position on their level.

                      There was a measure of some encouragement. The fact that the pitch changed singularly seemed to indicate the presence of only one intruder. Had there been more - the stairs would have played a musical dirge of warning for him. He slid down into a crouching position, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he focused on his objective, and listened for his cue.

                      Another pitch change.

                      No’Tyalc launched himself - into the air - down the stairs. Behind him, standing diligently at the room entrance, Goa-Den tensed as the hunt began. His tail slammed into the floor, and a savage snarl - torn from deep within his throat - alerted the others unto what was taking place.

                      No’Tyalc wasn’t the average Saurian. Everything about him, from his size to his deeds, seemed larger than life. Very few Saurians could match his size, even fewer could match his ferocity, and none could match his frame. Goa-Den was certainly larger; nearly a full flank taller than No’Tyalc, and his sheer size seemed to dwarf everyone around him. But while Goa-Den’s physique was comparable to massive knotted trees swaying softly in the rain driven winds, No’Tyalc’s physique was literally a work of art - with each muscle, well defined and precise, rippling with his every movement. O’Jmm possessed a frame similar unto that of his Father, and Bi’Lar certainly deserved his share of the attention, but No’Tyalc was a breed apart from anyone.

                     A hard life had given him his features; the cages had given him his grim demeanor; and Ce’Phus had given him his purpose.

                     A lifetime of hardships; a lifetime spent within the cages; and a lifetime of war - all had taken his raw attributes and molded him into the lethal weapon that shrdars feared today.

                     No’Tyalc whipped his tail viciously to the side as his body neared its destination - the fifth level of his den. He wasn’t interested in landing upon the stairwell and facing his enemy head on; instead - he twisted his body, a full one hundred and eighty degrees within the air, and soared over the railing that wound its way protectively around the stairs.

                     Powerful hands reached out and caught upon the floor, beneath the railings, as he began to fall. His tail swung inward, between his legs, changing his direction.

                     Endless seasons of training allowed him to contort his body back into position; endless practice sessions allowed him to clear the banister railing, upon the fourth level, with ease; and endless ages of war had taught him extreme tactics and strategies.

                    No. He wouldn’t charge recklessly down the stairs and confront his intruder, such methods could lead unto a quick and painful death if you didn’t know your enemy; instead - he avoided his enemy altogether, and landed on the stairs full three steps behind him.

                    The result was exactly what No’Tyalc had planned. His actions were a complete surprise: forcing his intruder to react awkwardly, turning to face him, instead of continuing upwards. The tactic wasn’t only sound - but very sensible. By forcing his enemy to adjust his plans - he had gained a precious few seconds to discern who his intruder was, what weapons he might possess, and had cut off his intruders retreat: while placing his enemy’s back towards Goa-Den, and rendering him vulnerable to an attack.

                    The intruder thumped his tail approvingly on the stairs. His broken attempt at a joyous greeting mixed with a rasping cough and spoken with a thick heavy accent, was totally unexpected to No’Tyalc - forcing him to pause to assess the situation.

                     The intruder’s size was imposing, perhaps only a few digits shorter than Goa-Den, but definitely of equal proportion unto the daunting Saurian. A dark gray-leathered cloak, No’Tyalc couldn’t be certain as to the precise type, covered him from head to toe - shrouding his face beneath a shadowy misshapen hood that seemed to swallow the light with each passing moment.

                     The cloak had obviously been hastily done - because it bore no signs of tailoring or Tec enhancements. Two holes had been torn into the sides, to allow a moderate degree of movement for the arms, while the back had been ripped in half - at the bottom - to allow a little freedom for the tail.

                     The cloak, itself, gave No’Tyalc a little assurance that his intruder hadn’t risked violating his den with a siege in mind. It was thick, heavily saturated with rain, and hung heavily upon the broad shoulders that were its only support - quick movements would have been nearly impossible in such a cumbersome state.

                     But his tail.. His tail - gave No’Tyalc reason for concern. Scales are a symbol of power, a means of displaying one’s strength without truly engaging in a challenge. And the massive scales and razor sharp spines, that covered the slow writhing appendage, were unlike any that he’d ever seen before. It was obvious that the intruder was afflicted with S.D.D., but his case was unlike any that No’Tyalc had encountered.

                     A lowered tail planted firmly upon the upper stairs; a slight shift in body posturing; a small twist, unto one side, of his shoulders; and the eerie pause, that lasts for less than a heartbeat, as the muscles tense to move - all were signs. His enemy intended to step downward - with his right foot.

                     No’Tyalc reacted with the reflexes of a cage fighter. His body surged forward, slightly to the left, and slammed hard into the intruder as his right leg came up. The impact was of minimal importance; he was more concerned with the intruder’s reaction.

                     Instinct had caused the intruder to slam his foot back onto the steps and brace himself against the contact.

                     No’Tyalc seized the moment and sought to angle past him - using his tail as a brace to drive his knee into the midsection of his intruder. At least - that was his intention. The intruder wasn’t so inclined to participate.

                     A massive elbow slammed into his chest, as he tried to gain the room he needed, and barred his way. He was forced to shift his position slightly, in order to still execute the maneuver, and for a second - he thought he saw a smile hidden in the darkness of the hood for his efforts.

                     He drove his knee forward, surging with all his might, but found only the sharp twinge of agonizing pain. His eyes darted downward - just in time to see the massive anvil that was his enemy’s fist, recoiling off of his knee, and slamming - palm open - into his chest.

                    He was pinned against the wall - but far from helpless. His arm came crashing down upon his enemy’s outstretched arm, forcing him to release his hold, and allowing No’Tyalc an opportunity to strike. He let the momentum of his actions carry him forward; forcing his intruder to lean backwards, and a savage twist brought his tail around and slammed into his intruder’s side.

                     It was a brilliant maneuver - one that brought a frightening laughs of joy from deep within the shadows of his intruder’s hood.

                     No’Tyalc gained access past the intruder, his actions having proved sufficient enough to cause his intruder to move downward - a step or two - before deciding upon his next step, and crouched upon the upper steps. His eyes darted back and forth, anxiously awaiting the appearance of any weapons, but found only the calm nature of his intruder.

                     He actually found it to be quite discomforting. His actions were never meant as any true attack, certainly not one of any true merit, but were meant as a means of judging his intruder’s skill.

                     A novice would’ve been taken by the maneuver; a skilled assassin would’ve recovered easily - but would’ve retaliated with aggression for his mission having failed; and a thief might be capable of defending himself - but would’ve resorted to his weapons long ago.

                     He allowed a slow snarl of disgust to linger upon his lips. Not because of his intruder’s lack of skill, but because of his skill. He would’ve preferred to face a novice or a thief, so long as it wasn’t Gro-Vall, and even an assassin - if he must; but none of these titles fit his intruder. For just as surely as he had tested his enemy, his enemy had been testing him. And Great Ancestor help him - he felt as though he had come up lacking.

                     His face was expressionless as he surveyed his enemy. Instinct told him to attack, to make his enemy suffer for his defiance, but countless training sessions under the tutelage of Ce’Phus had trained him to use his mind - as well as his body.

                     His intruder wasn’t some simple-minded miscreant bent on theft or murder - but something entirely different. He was trained, well trained, in the art of combat, and very much under control. His motions were fluid, seamless, almost effortless - in comparison to anyone he had ever seen: including Bi’Lar, Goa-Den, and even Ce’Phus. And his actions didn’t seem to register as aggressive, or even defensive, but were more akin to being dismissive.

                     His jovial nature seemed to suggest that he approved of No’Tyalc’s reaction to his being there, and may have been expecting their little sparring session from the moment he entered the den.

                     A slight twitch of the body - that snapped the shoulders back into a ready position; a minute tilt of the head to encompass an alternate view; and a miniscule shiver that tensed the muscles into an alert status: clear signs that spoke volumes over his intruder’s stoic silence.

                     No’Tyalc looked over his shoulder. Patience had never been a component unto any of their characters: clawing your way through a sea of death tends to sap the amount of tolerance that one has for unwanted aberrations.

                     He wasn’t surprised to see them standing there at the top of the stairs. In fact - he was surprised that they had allowed him to remain on his own this long. The shrbelles were more than capable of guarding the nest - with Sa’Cara taking the point at the door, and Mother Healer now protecting Ell’Da and the hatchling; they had simply allowed him a moment to assess the situation - on his own - before following.

                     He returned his attention to his intruder. He would have preferred to do this part alone - but such thoughts were irrelevant now. A slow menacing sigh slid from his lips as he remembered the words of Ce’Phus. ” Question an enemy alone, and you’ll receive the answers that you need; question an enemy in mass, and you’ll get the answers you want.“

                     He rose to his full height - his impressive physique seeming to amplify the sound of his large scales and spikes snapping into their feral position. ” You have entered into my home unbidden, Elder - though it is only the color of your hair that prompts me to show you such respect! “

                    He stepped downward, locking his eyes into the dark hood, and stood before him. ” For a stranger to enter into another’s den unbidden, and assuredly - unwanted, is an insult unto its keepers. By Saurian law, and the laws of The Great Ancestor, it is my right to take such actions as a challenge to my authority! “ His eyes searched the depths within the darkness of his hood. ” Speak, Elder! Quickly! Truthfully! But be warned - your life dangles by a thread at the edge of your tongue! Speak falsely, and I will grant you an audience with The Great Ancestor! “

                    That slight tilt of his head - brought back that feeling of being dismissed to No’Tyalc. And try as he might to ignore it, the feeling was beginning to irritate him.

Instinct wanted him to react harshly - even hastily - but he remained calm, and found his composure within the endless seasons of his training. ” What dark purpose brings you to my home, unannounced, Elder? “

                   He watched carefully as the stranger raised his massive hands to his rain soaked hood and threw it back over his head. The action was brief, no more than a flash of movement, but No’Tyalc hadn’t failed to notice the savage scars and ghastly wounds that riddled every aspect of them.

                  He had seen his share of injuries during his time in the cages, witnessed countless horrors during the long campaigns of the war, and bore a lifetime of scars to give validity to his claims of bravery. But even the nannites had their limits. And the severity of the wounds upon the stranger’s hands would’ve certainly resulted in the Tecs having to amputate: even replacing the hands with bio-synthetics to maintain proper usage. The fact that he still retained his hands, under such grim conditions, was a testament to his strength.

                  Wordlessly - the intruder lowered his head and allowed the great tangle of pure white hair to flop around his face. A savage spasm rocked through his body, flinging his hair back and forth, as he shook himself to remove any lingering aspects of the foul weather. A half garbled cough, more akin to a weak growl, escaped his throat, and a final sniff - to clear his nostrils - allowed the stranger to return an answer. “ Is this any way to greet your family, dar? Because, where I come from, family doesn’t need permission - or purpose - to enter into each other’s homes. “

                  No’Tyalc’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief and utter puzzlement.” Family! “ What was he saying? To his knowledge - No’Tyalc had no remaining family. His only relative, his elder sister, had been killed when he was no more than three seasons of age. And while it was true that some, such as Bi’Lar, could lay claim to his line; he had no immediate family alive to speak of. A fact that was well known to everyone.

                   Still, the resemblance was there. Not completely unquestionable like that of O’Jmm, but striking enough to be noticed by everyone within the vicinity.

                   “ The Elder is mind sick, Tyalc. It’s obvious that he’s wandered into the wrong den and has confused you as one of his own line. We should summon the Tecs and have them care for him immediately. He is not worthy of your anger, only deserving of your pity. “

                   Bi’Lar words snapped the intruder’s head upward to face him. His eyes, a sickening blend of yellowish-red and an impossible shade of green, locked onto his. With each second - he devoured the will of the ill-tempered Saurian, and then ruefully spit him back out. ” That temper of yours is a beacon unto your line, dar. Don’t let that tongue of yours be your downfall - as it has felled many of your line. “

                    His eyes returned to No’Tyalc, and a great smile split across his face.” By The Ancestor, dar! You’re the spitting image of your Father! And that fine frame of yours is definitely worthy of our line! As is that young seedling of yours, O’Jmm! “

                    The sound of his dere’s name brought No’Tyalc back to his senses. If the intruder had knowledge of his dere - then surely he had been spying on them for some time. He locked his fingers into the intruder’s cloak and roared defiantly. ” You will cease this madness, and remove yourself from my den - this instant, Elder! Or - by The Great Ancestor - you shall suffer greatly for your transactions! “

                    The intruder’s only response came behind the veil of a considerate smile. ” Where are your manners, dar? Did you not fight at the side of Ce’Phus? “ He looked upwards toward A’Shinn and Cai-Din, as though he had just offered a moment of condolence, and bowed his head before them.” A true and noble warrior, your Father: I still mourn his loss. “ He returned his attention to No’Tyalc. ” Did you learn nothing of respect during that time, dar? Or is that head of yours as thick as that of your Father’s? “

                    No’Tyalc became lost to his own nightmares: to the images of his sister fleeing with him through the streets and into the forest when the Nobles waged war in their city. Images of the trials and tribulations he faced - alone - when he and his sister got separated a season later. If he was family, as he claimed, then where had he been? Why had he not tried to avenge his family’s death? Why did he leave him alone to face the cruelties of Eaa? Why? Why? Why!

                    Memories, suppressed for over a generation, sent a surge of adrenalin throughout his system, and signaled his nannites to feed his muscles. He forced himself upon the intruder, and slammed him against the wall forcefully. Instantly the den’s sensors came to life and dispatched an array of nannites to assess, and repair, the damages.

                    Goa-Den and A’Shinn were there almost immediately. They were well aware that No’Tyalc was within his rights; but they weren’t about to let him do something that he would regret later - like killing an Elder afflicted with mind-sickness.

                    No’Tyalc struggled against them, his eyes filled with the savage memories of his brutal life, and wanted nothing more than to feel his hands wrapped around the stranger’s neck as his life slipped from him.” Release me! I will suffer this idiot’s words no longer! “

                 The Elder remained calm, his eyes turning towards Bi’Lar, and shook his head in pity. ” This is the price that we pay for allowing your line into that of ours, dar. Your temper is contagious: useful, at times - but still contagious. “

                 No’Tyalc fought even harder. ” Enough, you dim witted dung feeder! I have never seen you before, fool! Not now! Not ever! Stop this madness, or I’ll stop it for you! “

                 The Elder only laughed at him - he thought the part about being a dung feeder was particularly funny, and fought his way through his laughter to reply. ” Then stop looking at me, dar! How can your eyes tell you who I am, when they’ve never seen me? Stop acting like a damned Saurian, and look at me! Not with your eyes - any fool can do that - but with your blood! “

                 No’Tyalc wanted to remain angry, wanted to release the anger and pain that had been held within him for so long, but his heart yielded before him. His anger dissipated, despite the memories that still tortured his mind, and he could feel each cell beginning to awaken within his blood. It wasn’t a severe jolt of knowledge; but more like a dark cloud being lifted from over his eyes. And then - he knew.

                 “ Good-Father? “

                 The words were like a deluge of hammers falling upon everyone in the room; but the massive arms that stretched wide to embrace No’Tyalc left little doubt unto their validity.

                 They stood there watching, silent and unmoving, as if the slightest twitch might shatter this moment into a thousand pieces, and they would be left clearing the mangled corpse of the Elder from No’Tyalc’s den.

                 Mother Healer, however, had no such qualms. She truly appreciated the fact that patience was a virtue, but even The Great Ancestor must have his limits - or there would be no need for a judgment after one’s death.

                 It wasn’t surprising that Mother Healer had been able to enter into their midst unnoticed, she was capable of far more than that, but it was a talent that she was loathe to talk about: a fact that was still whispered with hushed dread among the First Generation.

                 She seemed so frail, standing there among them, lost in Goa-Den’s massive shadow. But a lifetime of atonement - for her jaded past - had garnered her strength, and that strength had erased her fears a long time ago.

                 Besides - she had practically raised these foolish dars, and wouldn’t hesitate to take her tail to their backside if they stepped out of line with her: a point that was driven home emphatically as she slammed her tail roughly upon the floor.

                 She pressed her way through them, with a disapproving growl rising from deep within her, and roughly shoved Goa-Den to the side with a series of hard bruising slaps to his gargantuan shoulder.

                 Cai-Din started to explain; but she was in no mood to hear any of it. And a snapping bite, which missed his nose by less than a digit, brought the Aphi - and all the others - unto a respective silence. Her eyes locked upon all of them, forcing each one to think that she held them personally responsible for this happening, before finally turning her attention towards No’Tyalc.

                  “ No’Tyalc! “ Her voice was sharp and cold - like the edge of a blade without the slightest hint of a conscious to guide it. ” I would be the first to commend you on resolving this issue without any apparent difficulties; but I will not accept these senseless outburst! Now - this may very well be your den, No’Tyalc; but your actions are bringing more stress unto an already dire situation! “ She smoothed her robes, trying to retain at least a small amount of her composure, and then continued. ” I suggest that you end this foolishness at once, and attend to your mate and hatchling! They are the ones whom you should be embracing at this moment, not an unannounced guest! “

                  The Elder stepped away from No’Tyalc - grateful for the distraction. He hadn’t intended to become so emotionally involved, but the moment was far greater than he had expected.

                  He knew the extent of No’Tyalc’s pain. He knew - because he was there. He had always been there - hidden in the endless rain and dark shadows of Eaa. Watching; waiting; wanting so desperately to take his Good-dere into his arms, and shield him from the horrors that would one day haunt him.

                  But he couldn’t. To do so would ultimately seal the fate of Eaa, and condemn the world to chaos.

                  So he watched: doing what he could, without doing anything at all. Wounding a small Furbur to allow him to hunt, leading the Slavers in an opposite direction to allow him safe passage through troubled areas, and standing guard over him - when his body had grown to weary for him to continue.

                  He had always been there. When No’Tyalc fought his first match in the cages - he was there; when he challenged for Ell’Da - he was there; when he stood with Ce’Phus at World’s Edge - he was there; and when O’Jmm took his first breath - he was there.

                  Unable to give comfort unto his own Good-dere.

                  These were his own horrors, the memories that continued to guide him on this path, and the reason why he was unable to let go of No’Tyalc - once he finally had him in his arms.

                  In the eyes of the Elder - Eaa had strayed far from what she used to be, and he had witnessed the true depth of her transformation. She was still beautiful beyond all description; but was now twisted, and tortured - beyond the concept of Saurian understanding.

                  He started to lose himself to his memories; but found absolution within his past: a beacon that cut through the darkness, with the brilliance of Sol, and guided him back unto the moment.

                  The moment when her scent first filled his nostrils, and tore his heart from its icy slumber. How long had it been? Three Generations – maybe four? Four Generations - since he last stood before her, and felt this way.

                   But time held no meaning before such things, and every aspect of her was as clear as his last thought, and as beautiful as his last breath. His blood recognized her, interpreted the voice that he had never heard, and clarified the sights that he had never seen. He knew her. Not like this - this Saurian form that she now wore - but her true form.

                   But either way - he realized that she could still stir him unto his very core, and tear away his heart with the bat of an eye.

                   He stepped to the forefront, in front of No’Tyalc, and stared up at her. His eyes locked into hers, conveying more than his lips had ever dared to say, and lost himself to her beauty - once again. ” I see you haven’t lost any of that acid tongue of yours, shrbelle. Quick witted and razor sharp as ever. You’re still the most perplexing of The Ancestor’s wonders - dizzyingly beautiful and captivating; yet seductively deadly, and ravaged with needle sharp barbs. “ A sly grin etched across his face. ” It has been a long time, Sa’Lindra. I see that you’re still trying to conceal that impressive figure of yours, in one way or another, and still failing miserably. “

                   Mother Healer took a step towards the intruder, careless of the stares and wide mouthed puzzlement that the others were giving her, and lost her thoughts to his words.

                   Her name. Her - true - name! He knew - her true name!

                   More importantly - she found that she was moved, by no small degree, when he spoke to her. His eyes suffocated her, forcing her heart to race unsteadily, and drove her breathing to become hard and labored gasp. She wanted to turn away, wanted to run: yet stood there - unable to move.

                   Her mind staggered from thought to thought, unable to focus on the simplest of things, and she lost the ability to concentrate. Why? Who was this Elder that dared to provoke such passion, for that was assuredly what it was, from so deep within her?

                    She had spent the entirety of her Saurian life in repentance for her deeds - an atonement that had earned her the title of Mother Healer. But even that couldn’t erase the atrocities that she had committed, and this intruder seemed to have an intimate knowledge of that dark time.

                    Ic’Thyrus knew. Sometimes he even called her by her true name, when he had witnessed a small glimmer of the old fire that still smoldered within her, but it was only in jest.

                    Names weren’t so freely given in her youth. Names, like all things, had to be earned. In fact - many of the Elders, alive today, held no name before being given the Gift. Like the remaining Ancestors - they roamed the Lands of Eaa completely anonymous: driven only by the most basic of concerns, and the endless pursuit to perpetuate the species.

                    But she bore a name - a name that had shaken Eaa with unending dread, and had reverberated throughout every facet of life. A name that was still whispered with fear today - Sa’Lindra: the Silent Death.

                    How often had she heard her name screamed out in terror? Heard the tales told to the hatchlings to keep them within their dens or from straying to far from the herd? And how many times had she given thanks unto The Great Ancestor for the name that she now bore? It was countless. A number so immeasurable that it was far beyond calculating.

                    But there was no malice or disgust within the intruder’s voice. Only the intense realization of who it was that stood before him. A realization that slowly dawned upon her as she felt herself drowning in the depths of his eyes, and was forced to step back and turn away. Her head shook slowly, in disbelief, as clarity revealed the truth to her, and the fog finally lifted from her eyes.

                    Her mouth moved as though she was in the midst of an endless private conversation, but had lost her voice to silence: a fact that unnerved the battle hardened warriors greater than any sight they had witnessed since the Battle at World’s Edge.

                    Slowly - she descended the stairs and stood before him. She was lost to her memories, his enormous body seeming to swallow the last remaining remnants of her dignity, and she found herself being reduced to a shy giggling seedling. Her hand shook fiercely as she reached forth and gently touched the side of his face: bringing a soft sigh of contentment from the intruder, and a look of astonishment from everyone else.

                    “ Ghi’Zon? “

                    He laughed, as he gently took her hand and softly kissed it, and then pulled her closer to him. ” Time has ravaged Eaa. Her lush lands wither and die before the endless rain and the unrelenting ice that seeps down from the Northern Lands. Her face - once flawless and pure - is now scarred, and riddled with pockmarks and boils that erupt to tear the barriers that separate the Land of Fire from its three siblings. Change is inevitable, Sa’Lin; but the changes that Eaa has undergone are a mockery unto what she once was. “

                    His hand softly pulled back the renegade strand of hair that had dared to loosen itself from its tie and brashly hang down across her face, and his eyes recaptured hers and once again set her heart ablaze. ” Time has been an endless storm unto Eaa, Sa’Lin - often with the most dire of results. “ His face hovered only digits from hers. “ But The Ancestor has sheltered you from Time’s unyielding anger. For you are as beautiful today, in this form, as you were generations ago - when Eaa was still whole. I sought to challenge for you then - as I would challenge for you now. “ He dipped his head, pausing briefly before her, and softly kissed her.

                    Gro-Vall cringed back in pain, so did the others, expecting Mother Healer to stretch the skin on Ghi’Zon face a few more digits. But to everyone’s surprise, the expected reaction never took place.

                    Mother Healer was well aware of her surroundings. She knew that they were watching, waiting for her to react; but knowing isn’t the same as doing, and she found herself unable to respond with any reaction that they were familiar with. Unable - or unwilling - she wasn’t exactly sure of which.

                     She wasn’t exactly sure of anything at the moment, and probably cared even less about that much. In fact - the only thing that she was truly concerned about, at that moment, was to stifle the moan that was threatening to erase any hint of reasoning that she had left within her; keep her lips from parting and allowing his mouth to drive her unto the brink of madness; and to pull away - despite the urgency that fought to throw her into his arms and release her to the whims of his desires.

                     He released her, feeling the urgency of his own tormented need, and stepped back to allow reality to return.

                     Mother Healer’s smile was like that of an enamored seedling belle. She knew that her actions were completely uncharacteristic, for her, as far as the others were concerned; but what did they know - they were little more than seedlings themselves, and still had much to learn about life.

                     Still - she had cherished their unconditional love and respect for over a generation now, and felt that they were entitled to some form of explanation.

                     But not now.

                     First - she desperately needed to acquire her own answers. “ Ghi’Zon! How is this possible? I thought, ……” Her words traveled into silence.” How? When? “

                     Ghi’Zon extended his arms, his eyes darting over his frame in mock interpretation, and seemed pleased with the results. It was pleasant enough, he guessed, but not something that he could envision residing in for an eternity. ” Such things take little effort, Sa’Lin, and are well within our reach. “ He lowered his head in sadness. ” Let’s just say - that I have acquired this form, from time to time, every since Jhoam’Ges made his choice. “ He paused, allowing his sadness to pass, and then continued. ” As for the other answers that you may require - all things in their proper place and time, Sa’Lin. “

                     She felt the heat rising within her, despite her best efforts to suppress such feelings, and nearly spoke - aloud - what they had desperately fought to deny between them; but unwittingly so, Ghi’Zon had provided her with an outlet to escape the moment.

                     Her hand was a blur of motion. Or - at least it was until it struck the side of Ghi’Zon’s face with a resounding slap. ” Do you have any idea of the horrors that I have fabricated, within my mind, because of you? And now you stand here and say that you have assumed this form before; but you never sought me out! “

                     A’Shinn took a step back from the two of them. This was the reaction that they had expected from the beginning, and Mother Healer seemed to be making up for her momentary lack of control.

                    The words flew from her mouth with an unabashed fervor that she thought long ago depleted. ” How dare you do such a cruel and callous thing, Ghi’Zon? To me! “ Her words continued pitilessly - giving no concern or consideration for his pathetic attempts to answer her.“ Everything in its proper place, Sa’Lin! Since Jhoam’Ges made h……….”

                    She stopped abruptly, the sadness returning to Ghi’Zon’s eyes, and stepped away from him. Her eyes darted towards No’Tyalc, then back to Ghi’Zon, over and over again - as though the blanket had been lifted, and she was finally given entrance into his world. She trembled as the realization of what was before her began to set in, and forced back the wave of sadness that threatened to make her join Ghi’Zon in his grief.” No’Tyalc ……is your Good-dere. “ Her words were hushed: unwilling to admit the possibility that was at the very tip of her tongue. ” Ghi’Zon! Is ……why are you here? Why now? “

                    The shrill cry of the hatchling pierced the den like a screaming shriller, and brought a sudden conclusion to their conversation.

                    Sa’Cara ran to the edge of the stairway, “ No’Tyalc! Mother Healer! You must come - now! The hatchling convulses from hunger! We must act! “

                    Her voice carried the urgency of the situation, even as her eyes darted towards the intruder, and widened in disbelief at his obvious resemblance to No’Tyalc.

                    Mother Healer turned to ascend the stairs; but stopped abruptly, and returned to Ghi’Zon - as the thought rushed upon her. ” Ghi’Zon! The hatchling! Can you help him? The situation is dire, and the greatest of our Tecs is at a loss unto how to treat his ailment. Can you aid him? “

                    Ghi’Zon glanced over towards No’Tyalc, a wretched look of desperation etched into his Good-dere’s face, and he waved his hand - dismissively - to ease his concerns. ” Bah! Saurian Tec! A single step above a good hammer, a chisel, and a flat piece of stone - if you ask me! “

                    A snort of disgust punctuated his remarks, and he brought forth a small vial - from within his rain soaked cloak - and smiled at No’Tyalc. ” Let’s go see to your dere, dar. “

                    No’Tyalc was nearly three full steps ahead of everyone as they raced towards the nestroom. He knew it was madness, a subtle form of mind sickness that clearly registered upon the faces of those he trusted the most, but it was hope: the slightest, most imperceptible, chance that his dere might live.

                    Perhaps it was foolish of him to think that his Good-Father could possibly succeed where the finest of all Saurian Tecs had failed - even more foolish was the fact that he was putting his faith in someone that he had never met before today - but he couldn’t explain it. How could he? He didn’t understand it himself. His entire life, his very survival, had been based upon the act of self-preservation: in trusting no one - who hadn’t proven himself or herself trust worthy.

                     He wasn’t stupid - the whole damned thing was the act of a lunatic! He knew it was foolish! He knew; and he didn’t care! It was the senseless action of someone who had been driven to the edge of desperation and was willing to latch on to anything that could sustain him! He knew all of this; and still - found only trust residing within his heart.

                     He thought back to his first training session with Ce’Phus, and remembered the first thing that was said to him. ” A great warrior is useless in battle if his heart is broken, and his mind is in despair; but give an average warrior the slightest fraction of hope - and he can return a conqueror! “

                     Ghi’Zon paid little attention to the stares and silent mutterings that were issuing from behind him, as he sat at the console. He had entered the room with a thunderous chorus of greetings for the shrbelles within, and had brought a smile to everyone’s face - despite the obvious tension within the room.

                      Mother Healer could only shake her head - as he continued on - as though there was nothing to be concerned about, and was forced to guide him into the chair. She had always hated the fact that he was so flirtatious. He truly meant no harm - but the old fool could be incredibly charming when he chose to be, and that had lead to some…”minor”… altercations in the past.

                      Ghi’Zon’s frustrations, once she got him at the console, were beginning to grow as his fingers glided over the keybpad. Mother Healer didn’t see his actions as being completely belligerent, as he rudely brushed Ra’Dimus away, but more akin to being very insistent. Of course Ra’Dimus immediately issued a challenge, intellectually at least, and insisted that the system contained numerous firewalls - and safety protocols - that would prevent Ghi’Zon from gaining access.

                      “ Access Granted. “

                      Ghi’Zon’s total distaste for Saurian Tec was blatantly obvious to everyone - especially the Tecs. Comments such as … “ Simply pathetic! “ …. And.” Dim witted archaic dribble! “. And ……” Stupid - idiotic - poorly built piece of dung: not fit for a hatchling! “ ….. Were frequently spewing forth as he fought to breach all of the security systems.

                      “ System ready. Awaiting instructions. “

                      Perhaps, at another time or place, Ell’Da would’ve found the looks upon the Tecs’ faces almost comical. Especially Fe’Ragus. She had never been fond of the Exemplorary Tec. His contributions to the Saurian cause were truly legendary; but so was his distaste for certain people and cultures. She was grateful that he had answered Ra’Dimus’ call - Great Ancestor only knows what Ra’Dimus had to agree upon to get him to enter into their den; much less to attempt to actually feign like he was there to help. Still - she would’ve found the situation humorous at another time, the fact that Fe’Ragus was the one that had designed most of the security protocols for the system had insured her of that, but her screaming hatchling had all but banished such thoughts from her mind.

                      Ghi’Zon turned towards her, that it looks of desperation that he had seen on No’Tyalc’s face was etched doubly upon hers as well, and he smiled. ” Do not trouble yourself so greatly, Good-chere. The dar will be just fine. You must learn to strengthen your resolve - in such matters - or he will surely become spoiled and disobedient. Our young are notorious for their tantrums, belle; but you - and No’Tyalc - must take a firm grip upon this hatchling above all others. You mustn’t allow him to bend you to his will; or it will corrupt his heart, and ruin him from within. Remember, belle. The only lessons worth learning - come from our trials, not our triumphs. Give him his freedom to become what he will; but be firm, and decisive in your guidance, so that he will never forget who he is. “

                       A savage cough tore its way from his throat and prevented him from continuing.

                       Mother Healer started to speak - but a single glance, unnoticed by the others, held her tongue: his unspoken words reverberating within her mind. ” Not now, Sa’Lin. “

                       She lowered her head in compliance; but not before her own eyes had answered his gaze, and had offered her rebuttal. ” We will speak of these things later, Ghi’Zon! Including the (Bane) you are trying - so ineptly - to hide from me! “

                       It only lasted a moment; but for someone like Ra’Dimus, to be completely incognizant about anything, it seemed like an eternity. But unlike Fe’Ragus, Nor’Gathal, and Tre’Drian - who continued to vent the great achievements of Saurian Tec in the face of Ghi’Zon’s penetrating the system; he squatted patiently beside him, and watched the monitor intensely.

                       At first it seemed random, almost chaotic, as the monitor leapt from one topic to another; but then - Ra’Dimus realized that Ghi’Zon wasn’t trying to learn something new, but was confirming what he already knew.

                      Ghi’Zon could feel the young Tec watching him, even as the others - of his Order - continued to rant at him. He would never admit it to the dar, but he was actually honored to finally meet him in person. His theories were actually quite good; most were wrong, of course, but it was the fact that a Saurian had finally taken a step towards such thoughts that he actually found intriguing.

                       He tapped the screen. ” Saurian nannites. Slow, barbaric, even amateurish at best, but the key ingredient to your survival. “

                       Ra’Dimus knew that look in his eyes. The look of an instructor scolding his pupil for allowing his work to be presented in such a pitiful state - was written into his every word.

                       Ghi’Zon switched off the monitor, he had verified what he already knew, and - to his undying gratitude - his conclusion had been right.” You have a promising future ahead of you, dar. Just remember - the moment that you close yourself to the possibilities; you limit the potential of your greatness. Sometimes - even numbers can lie. “ He winked his eye, and turned his attention to No’Tyalc and Ell’Da. ” Let me hold my Great-dere, Ell’Da. I may be old, belle, but these arms are strong enough to hold someone that I love. “ His eyes flashed briefly towards Mother Healer, and had the others not been so engrossed with Ell’Da placing the hatchling into his arms - they might have noticed the crimson flush that covered her face, or the fact that her tail was now two full digits off the ground and was swaying seductively.

                       A slow guttural growl whispered forth from his lips, low and menacing - with the slightest hint of his fangs displaying before the hatchling, and he spoke in a commanding voice. ”You will not take that tone with me, dar! Or you will find the hide of your backside torn into ribbons! “

                       Ell’Da buried her face into No’Tyalc’s chest: what had she done? What madness had made her think that Ghi’Zon could walk into this room, into their very lives, and fix what the greatest Tecs of their race had said was beyond repair?

                        But even before she had asked the question; she already knew the answer - Faith. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t as surprised as the others when her hatchling stopped his fervent cries, and listened unto his Great-Father.

                        Ghi’Zon placed the small vial up to the hatchling’s lips, to the protest of the Tecs, Bi’Lar, and several of the others, but he only looked towards No’Tyalc and Ell’Da for their blessing.

                        Ell’Da looked up into the eyes of her mate for their answer. He had promised to love and protect her; promised to provide her with a den that she could be proud of; and had promised her a name that would bring fear into the heart of her enemies and her rivals. He had kept his promises. Even forsaking the right to bring another mate into his den - such an honor is rare among their people - and had provided her with the status of an elite among Saurian females. She had listened to him then, when he told her of his intentions to challenge for her, and now was not the time to start doubting him.” I have given you a dere, No’Tyalc. And have placed the care of both of us into your hands. Whatever your decision, my love, I will abide, and will never question your judgment. “

                        No’Tyalc fought to contain the tears that were flowing down his cheeks so freely. He loved her, loved her trust in him, and could never see himself disappointing her.” Our dere is a warrior, Ell. We will not simply snuff out his life and mourn his lost. If he is to die on this day, if that is indeed the will of The Great Ancestor, then he shall die fighting. That is the only death that is befitting of a soldier. A warrior. A Cage Fighter! “

                       He held Ell’Da closely against him, and nodded his head towards Ghi’Zon - for him to proceed.

                       None of them were quite sure of what to expect. Perhaps if they had known what was in the vial, what made up the properties of the strange red liquid, they would’ve known how to react. But Ghi’Zon had offered little help, and they knew there would be no reason to try and pry any information from him, so they waited in absolute silence as Ghi’Zon slowly rocked the hatchling in his arms.

                      A soft lullaby, sung in an ancient tongue, filled the room with such harmony that its beauty moved even the Tecs. A gentle kiss upon the hatchling’s forehead ended Ghi’Zon’s ballad, and he stood up and issued Ell’Da into the chair. With great care he placed the hatchling into her arms, and smiled.” Now, Good-chere, feed the dar before he starves to death, or before he starts that unbearable racket again! “

                      His laughter was contagious, and brought wide eyes and smiles to everyone within the room - even Fe’Ragus.

                      They looked at each other, each one searching for that last decisive move that would give the other the assurance that they were doing the right thing, but each one already knowing that their decision was already mutual: there was nothing else left to lose.

                     Ell’Da slid her hand across her shoulder, causing the nannites within the fabric of her gown to release, and slowly pulled the material down to expose her breast. She lifted the hatchling to her, and with a silent prayer, she gave him her nipple.

                     There is always a moment of slight hesitancy when a hatchling first begins to feed. A moment of coaxing - to force the hatchling to open its mouth wide enough, and a moment of dread - as he chokes his way to perfect the subtle art of suckling: and then, relief.

                     But how long should they wait? Ghi’Zon seemed completely oblivious to the entire situation now, as though the very matter had already been settled and there was nothing left to be done, but the question was still hanging upon the hearts of everyone else, despite his obvious calm.

                     Ra’Dimus was beside himself. How long should they wait before they were certain that the hatchling would not reject his Mother’s milk? What was the appropriate amount of time? What type of window did they have before the milk reacted with the hatchling’s physiology and became a volatile acid: melting the hatchling from within?

                    Countless questions raced through his mind in the blink of an eye; yet he only needed to look upon the face of Mother Healer, her eyes filled with tears of joy, to find his answer.

                    Ell’Da winced in surprise, as her young hatchling’s suckling became insistent and increasingly demanding, and with the exception of his hatching - it was truly the happiest moment of her life. She lost herself to her emotions, unsure of whether to laugh or cry, so she opted to do both. A thunderous roar tore from Goa-Den’s throat, echoed by all the shrdars in the room, and startling the shrbelles into uncontrollable fits of laughter and tears.

                  No’Tyalc was ecstatic: racing from Ell’Da, to Goa-Den, to Ra’Dimus, to the rest of his companions, and finally ending up in the arms of his Good-Father sobbing helplessly: unable to convey the gratitude that he was feeling now.

                   Ghi’Zon steadied himself against the fervor to be swept up in the exasperated jubilation of the others. He fought his way through his own emotions, through generations of guilt and shame, and smiled proudly at his Good-Dere.” Calm yourself, No’Tyalc. The matter has not yet been concluded. “

                   No’Tyalc’s face turned ashen. The subtle blue-green complexion, of his skin, diminishing to a pale gray - in the blink of an eye - as worry once again gripped his heart.

                   Ell’Da’s eyes locked onto the two of them, as their words carried over to her, and she found that her very blood had frozen within her before such torment: her face, frozen and twisted, in a sickening mask of terror that echoed the worry that No’Tyalc displayed so passionately.

                   But a quick frown from Mother Healer put a prompt end to Ghi’Zon’s teasing. She knew the subtle shifts of his features, far better than she cared to admit, and knew that there was no need for concern.

                   Ghi’Zon’s laughter seemed to ease their tension, a little, but their concern was still noticeable. A quick glimpse of submission, towards Mother Healer, and he released them from their torment.” For Ancestor’s sake, dere! You’ve yet to name the dar! Or shall he remain nameless for the rest of his life? “

                   No’Tyalc dropped his head, and Ell’Da’s laughter nearly sent her into another emotional fit of joyous tears.

                   Mother Healer approached them, her hand finding the back of Ghi’Zon’s head in quick rebuttal for his teasing, and glared at him disapprovingly. ” Your Good-Father is right No’Tyalc. “ Her eyes squinted to show her mock fury as she looked sharply at Ghi’Zon. ” Though his methods of conveying his emotions are often lacking at best! “ The words were meant in jest, but it was obvious to everyone that they were laced with more than humor.

                  She returned her attention to Ell’Da and No’Tyalc, assured that the message she was trying to send had been clearly delivered, and smiled at them.” Ell’Da. No’Tyalc. This moment is truly a blessing. What was thought to be a time of mourning; has become a time for rejoicing. And let no one, who has bore witness unto this night, ever forget what has transpired here. “ She looked directly at the Tecs, as she spoke, and dared them to explain the events of this night with numbers and theories.

                  She placed her hand upon the hatchling’s heart. ” Now. What name do you have for this fine dar? “

                  They had thought of this moment often. Playfully feuding over countless names as the time of hatching approached. Truthfully - they hadn’t reached an agreement upon one single name. Yet there they stood, and Ell’Da once again deferred to her mate.

                  No’Tyalc looked towards Ghi’Zon, remembering the words he had whispered into his ears as he cried: “ Let Ell’Da name the hatchling. She will know his true name. “, And he smiled. “Ell’Da will name our dere, Mother Healer. She has earned the right. “

                   Ell’Da’s eyes moistened before her mate’s words, and had she not so recently underwent the hatching - it was abundantly clear that the look she was giving him was an invitation to procreate more.

                   She knew the names - the ones that she liked, and the ones that he liked - but they all seemed so small against this moment. So insignificant against the odds that there dere had overcome. There had been so much pain, so many traumas. She looked backed at the nest and remembered her suffering. The nannites had removed the blood from their covers and pillows, but the image was still fresh within her mind. Blood - so much blood. And in an instant - she knew.

                   “ Tae’Ra -Tem ! “

                   Her eyes locked onto those of No’Tyalc, as if she could share the knowledge of her choice with him, and he would truly understand. ” Your dere’s name shall be, Tae’Ra-Tem. “

                  A soft smile was Mother Healer’s only response. Though, in all truth, it was taking the full measure of her training to keep from snatching her head violently around and demanding that Ghi’Zon answer the questions that were burning within her soul. She could see his hand in all of this - not direct and open - but hidden and subtle. But she could also see the sadness, welling up in his eyes, as Ell’Da spoke the name that seemed to burrow its way into his heart.

                  Her heart begged her to comfort him, to take him into her arms and hold him lovingly, but she didn’t dare to do such a thing. The act would have seemed kind and considerate, to everyone within the room; but she knew that it would have been self indulgent, on her part, and that it had no place in this venue.

                  She watched Ell’Da and No’Tyalc, as they shared this moment of joy with their dearest friends, and wondered if they were aware of the importance of Ell’Da’s choice in names. For that matter - she wondered if she was truly aware, and was actually prepared to face it. She had her suspicions, but only Ghi’Zon could validate them, and she knew it would take some convincing to pry the answers from him. And - Great Ancestor helps her lustful heart - she was truly looking forward to the effort.

                  She forced the heat to subside from her body, and was grateful that the smile upon her face was solely being interpreted as a measure of her Motherly love for them. She nodded her head approvingly, forcing the thoughts from her mind - and her heart, and finally addressed them.” Your hatchling’s name is most appropriate, belle. In the old tongue - it means: Tears of Blood. “

                  She glanced towards Ghi’Zon, sharing a silent look of understanding, and nodded her head in approval. ” Very appropriate indeed. “

                  Her eyes returned to the hatchling, and in a single breath - she knew that she would be hopelessly in love for the remainder of her life.” Welcome, Young Tae’Ra-Tem: my sweet little Tae’r. “

                  A feral sickening snap, enhanced by a low guttural moan of blinding pain, resonated throughout the room. Mother Healer turned sharply - her eyes catching the faint glimpse of Cai-Din rushing to Dei’Drh-Anna ‘s side - as a foul smelling mixture of blood, mucus, and body fluids, seeped from beneath her gown, and she clutched at her belly in agonizing pain.

                  A span later: lying in a pool of blood, in the same nest that had so recently ushered Tae’Ra-Tem into the world - Ja’Kyr-Rah - chere Cai-Din et Dei’Drh-Anna was hatched.

                  Half a span later - Fre’Ya was lying upon the nest: her tail thrashing fiercely as the dere of Goa-Den tore its way through her, and Ra’Da-Cus - dere Goa-Den et Fre’Ya was hatched.

                  Ten clicks later, Trey-Lar - dere Bi’Lar et Ai’Anya was hatched.

                  Then, Aubri’Etta - chere Davu’Svien et Mo’Shida.

                  Then, Roth’Gar - dere Gro-Vall et Ke’SonYu.

                  Mother Healer could only stand before a seated Ghi’Zon, desperately wanting to ask questions, with her mouth wide open in sheer disbelief unto what she was seeing. Her eyes pleaded for the answers that her mouth failed to ask, but received only a wink for her efforts.

                  Never!

                  That was the only answer that she was certain of. Never had she bore witness unto such a spectacle - since the ascension of the Saurian form. Certainly she had seen her share of multiple hatchings, before the Gift, but never, ever, since that moment! But now, with less than a span left before Luna would fall and Sol would begin his chase of her far above the dreary clouds of Eaa, Ti-En’Gred - chere Wr’All et Ti’Enna opened her eyes unto the world.

                  The odds were astronomical. The sheer scope of such an occurrence was so far beyond the realm of probability - that Fer’Ra-Gus had chosen to leave, instead of facing the measure of an illogical answer.

                  Ra’Dimus busied himself with the new nannite upgrades that Ghi’Zon had installed to ease the transition for the new hatchlings. His mind was reeling from over exertion, complete exhaustion was a more appropriate way of saying it, but he had to continue. Each of the hatchlings had been assessed with an affliction ratio of over seventy-five percent; yet they had accepted their nannites without the slightest hint of discomfort.

                  How?

                  His eyes roamed over the new program that Ghi’Zon had downloaded into the system, over two million separate sub routines installed in less than three clicks, and even though he hated to admit it - he didn’t have the slightest idea where to begin to try and fathom the most minute detail of what he was seeing. He wanted an answer - needed an answer! His very life had been dedicated unto the search for, and the finding of, conclusive facts. But tonight had torn his tiny little world into a thousand chaotic pieces. He tried to rationalize the situation. The shrbelles had all suffered an unusual amount of undue stress, and their hatching dates were so close that even the slightest amount of stress could’ve triggered the hatching process at any time. And their seedlings were the offspring of the Saurians with the highest ratio of S.D.D.

                  But where did Ghi’Zon fit into the equation?

                  His arrival was far to timely to be mere coincidence, and his preparation for the event - despite the fact that No’Tyalc swears that he had never met the shrdar before this night - was simply to obvious to be dismissed.

                  He wanted answers, needed them, but tonight had only left him with more questions. And though he wasn’t certain why he felt the way that he felt; he knew that the ramifications of these events would forever dictate the very structure of the Saurian race.