Approximately 400 years ago…
The rain beat down on Ominek as he crouched low in the thick jungle brush of a world whose only name was a combination of letters and digits that Ominek already forgot. Their war against this clan of primals was proceeding accordingly. Once they’d taken out the Primals as the primary source of opposition, the filthy humans and elves could be made to worship the dragons again under Sauridius’ watchful eye.
His breath steamed in the air as he exhaled. His grip on his spell rifle tightened. His recon watch was nearly over, then he could return and report that he’d seen nothing once again. Primal spottings had become rarer and rarer lately. A prick at his shoulder signaled a biting insect and channeled a point of his pool to summon acid to the region. It bubbled up like sweat, caustically burning the insect and melting its proboscis and legs, then its body and wings. Satisfied, he wiped the acid away into the foliage and soil.
After a few more minutes of no activity, he slowly withdrew from his position and crept through the brush in a silent stalk back to their camp. He sighed in annoyance as the booming voice of his boisterous brother already pressed free of the jungle undergrowth and into his ears like unwelcomed guests. His brother was older, and stronger than he was, and did not try to hide the fact. Ominek was at the bottom of their squad’s hierarchy.
Once he emerged into the camp, they gave him the challenge and he offered the response. Failure to do so would have meant eating a void bolt through the heart. Then he passed through a Sensory Ward. The only bindings on his soul were those of Leviathos. No enemies had captured or subverted him.
“Ah, little Omy. Welcome back to Camp. Our conquest has made me hungry. Go find me something to feast on.”
Ominek halted. A silent sigh eased passed the rows of sharp teeth in his maw. He wanted to fight back. To tell his arrogant brother to do is his own damned hunting. But he was too small to confront his brother head on. No, Tulak required a more delicate touch. Ominek bowed his head submissively and nodded to trudge back out into the jungle.
As he passed the perimeter of the camp, he knew he was no longer being watched. Tulak was far too confident about any kind of frontal attack after they’d broken the Primal flank a few weeks back. The simian’s retreat had given them a great deal of breathing room to work with, along with an uncontested run of the territory. The freedom of movement has made his brother bold, reckless even.
Each step in the soft damp soil Ominek made was deliberate, careful, and slow. His spell rifle was clutched in the high ready. The stock held firm to the bones of his cheek. The custom made scope allowed him to navigate carefully with the other eye open. His nostrils flexed and his forked tongue kissed the air, sampling the scents. The taste of prey made his pupils contract with focus.
System Info : Perception check result: Success
A small spiny creature highlighted in red stood out against the dense jungle brush. Not just any prey though. This prey was dangerous. Poisonous . He didn’t know it’s name, just that it was some ground dwelling mammal covered in spines laced with poison fed through hollow channels in the center of the spine. Draconic scales made them a minimal threat. Ingestion, however, was a more complicated matter, as they required specific handling. Skinning the creature had to be done with a light hand, otherwise the poison glands could rupture and ruin the whole catch.
Ominek crept closer for a better look. The rest of his squad overlooked the creature as a prey item, favoring the larger, faster mammals that often bound along in long strides. Something about the thrill of the hunt. Trivialities to Ominek. No, what he saw in this little creature was an opportunity.
Lining up his shot, he slowly squeezed the trigger. The spell rifle tore a small chunk of his pool, shaped it into a soul bolt, and fired. The pallid white spike bored through the creature, knocking it over. It didn’t breathe or twitch. As if he’d just kicked it’s soul free of its body and the meat sack instantly expired. Good.
Ominek approached it silently and eyed the creature’s body with abject calm. A moment passed and the ambient sounds of the jungle resumed. Bugs chittered, birds sang, and life resumed. Just another day in the natural order. Under normal circumstances.
Ominek was anything but a normal circumstance for this biome. A draconic hatchling nearing his first molt was an apex predator here, even with the native Primals included. He drew the small knife on his belt. The raspy whisper of leather and metal was drowned out by the sounds of the jungle. Ominek kneeled down and carefully opened the creature’s mouth and began cleaning the kill.
He carefully removed the flesh, and the attached spines. A mistake at this point would ruin everything, as the poison glands at the base of the quills being ruptured would discolor the meat, signaling contamination. While that could be covered, it’s also just as easily detected with a simple scry spell. And if he was being scried, he wanted only the truth to be seen. A clean kill and dressing.
The trick was to prepare the meat for eating correctly. Then he turned his attentions to the flesh and poisonous quills. He wove a quick illusion spell with a combination of mind and air signs. The magic pulled two points from his aetherpool and swam from his breast, down his arms, and ended into his hands where the signs instructed the shape the magic should take.
System Info: Spell–Turn Invisibile. Turn your target invisible. Spell lasts for as long as the Aetherpool points are invested. A counter spell or scry divination spell can cancel the effects.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The violet pinkish magic billowed out like a soapy bubble and popped on the spiny dermis of the creature and bathed it in the magic. Slowly, the quills faded from view. Going by feeling alone, he took his time, breaking off a quill, and lightly working the tip just below the meal. The invisible poison could now free to spread without ruining the meat’s natural color. A cold, toothy grin worked its way to his cheeks as he worked.
Over the years Leviathos had either killed or eaten any of his spawn he felt were unworthy of his legacy. Those he didn’t end died amongst their kin. Ominek’s brother was the biggest and strongest. He’d claimed the lives of many. But Ominek knew better. It wasn’t the dagger in your breast that got you. It was the one that plunged into your back for your kidney.
Ominek had no intentions of meeting his end. Not on some rain soaked Primal world, at the hands of his brother or in his father’s maw. He was a survivor. And that meant being the last one standing. He paused to admire his handiwork.
Pleased with himself, he wrapped the meat in large leaves he found nearby and headed back to their camp. Passing through the camp’s checkpoint, he could see his brother in the rear at the cave they’d chosen as their command post area. Ominek kneeled in front of his elder brother and offered the wrapped meal. Presentation was everything. Ominek the dutiful and subservient brother.
“Finally. I was contemplating just eating you when you came back if you took any longer!”
Ominek lowered his head, his snout almost touched the damp soil of the ground. “My apologies, brother. Prey options were scarce because of the fighting. All I could find was the barbed mammal.”
His brother studied him for a moment and unwrapped the meat from the leaves, giving it a sniff. And here is where his genius shone. The large leaves he’d chosen to wrap the meat in had left the meat with a slight herbal smell. Nothing obnoxious, just enough to throw off someone trying to sniff out the faint hint of a noxious poison.
System Info: Deception Check Result: Success
His brother leaned back and nodded approvingly. “You cleaned it well. The cuts are straight, and there’s no contamination. You missed your calling as a chef!”
Tulak eagerly devoured the cuts without even bothering to cook them. Ominek allowed himself a small, unseen smile. By morning he would be the last of is line. Ominek silently withdrew from his brother’s presence with a small nod and left for his own tent. The clouds above thundered in protest of their own weight, unable to contain the moisture building up, and in moments, rain fell. Each droplet beating the memory into stone.
Deep down, there was a small pang of guilt and sadness. At birth, the clutch he grew up in numbered double digits. He had many brothers and sisters. Now there was just his brother and in a short matter of time, it would just be himself. He would have to face his father, and the looming shadow of Sauridius all alone. But he’d spent years preparing himself to do just that. He only hoped he had the strength to do what he needed to when the time finally came.
The present…
Ominek stood at the bridge of the Suaridius cruiser with a wistful smile. The end of the war was in sight. Leviathos had foreseen the rise of Sauridius. The sector would be theirs. Now it was just a matter of manifesting that possibility into reality. He left the memory of his brother in his past with the rest of the dead. Inconsequential and nearly forgotten by all but himself.
He forced himself to remember so that he’d never forget the lesson. Always strike when an opportunity presents. Better to be the one holding the dagger, than the one wearing it in their ribs. He turned to see Luffa staring out at the Rift on the spell screen. His latest prize. A crack team of primal war mages and weavers trained by his enemy. They would help ensure Morwen and her goon squad didn’t get in his way ever again. He had far more important things to be about. Like setting the stage for Sauridius’ return, rather than screwing around with a bunch of plucky mages.
He’d just opened his mouth to speak when time froze around him. All around, conversation stopped, and everyone halted mid action. He was the only one unaffected that could. A brilliant flash of white, and then he was somewhere else.
The next instant, he was floating in a void. No light to illuminate his surroundings. Then two brilliant floating orbs of amber shone to prominence. The eyes of Leviathos. Those two small stars bore down into the very depths of his soul. The urge to flinch away nearly stole control of his body.
“Ominek. The endgame approaches. In the near future you are going to encounter the priestess from Hoshun. Amara. You are not to kill her. She must live.”
Confusion swept through Ominek as he cast an uncertain glance at Luffa. Had the primal somehow gotten the word out to her friend? He knew the priestess and primal were friends. The fact she’d been there during his assault on Hidros and had survived the attack on Honshu was problematic. His initial impulse was to dismiss Leviathos’ request at the soonest opportunity, but Ominek knew to do so would be to court death.
His brother flashed briefly through memory. Guilt, sadness, and resolve mixed with bile into a caustic soup within his stomach. He cleared his throat and nodded at his father’s spectral eyes.
“As you will it, father, it will be.”
He could set aside his own petty needs for the mission. Even if the fear of retribution from his father was a powerful motivator. But like his brother, there would come a day when his father, too, would choke on the poison of opportunistic betrayal.