#The Awaited (Sābon);
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𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑅𝑎𝑡 𝐺𝑜𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑.
Malal’s words, growled down to her from the Throne of Shadows, echoed in Sābon’s ears as she strode to her fiefdom of the Shadowed Realm. The Anarche moved with purpose, yet betrayed nothing of her intentions or the orders she had been given. Of the Four Exalted, she was the coldest. The most befitting of her lizardlike scales.
Of the four, she was most suited to this task.
𝐻𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑚𝑦, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑅𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑃𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒. 𝐻𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟, 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑤. 𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛, 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚. 𝐷𝑖𝑠𝑔𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.
The Awaited stepped past the ring of jagged, shadowy spines that reached up into blackened sky like so many claws. There were other figures there, engaging in gentle-whispered conversations. All fell silent when Sābon was sighted. It was rare Malal’s Blade made such a brazen appearance without purpose and purpose indeed she had. Another daemon would have missed it; the quick flicks of her gaze, the lazy and slight sways of her tail. Messages sent this way and that, spoken without words.
But the effect was unmistakable. Formerly milling daemons formed up or filtered out into the wider realms. For seemingly no reason at all, the Feifdom of the Awaited went from full to near totally vacated. Only Sābon herself remained behind, paying no heed to flurry of motion around her. There was no need to look, for to disobey her would be to invite utter destruction.
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜, 𝑑𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝐼 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑤 𝑢𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒. 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑, 𝑋𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑦𝑚 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑙𝑎𝑧𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑒𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠, 𝑆ā𝑏𝑜𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑜.
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑉𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠. 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑢𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚, 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑙𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤. 𝐵𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤.
𝐷𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒.
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prev / Bloodfire Falls, Infernius
“So. What happened to finding the Sages of Khorne?”
Xögrym tensed, but otherwise didn’t react to the sudden presence in his chambers. Another of his siblings, peering at him with judgemental eyes. He regarded her lazily, then unlocked in the chair he had found. That he had been taking a half-nap in before he was disturbed.
“ There was a matter than needed my addressing.” Was his simple response.
He heard her morph into the room. The youngest of his sisters and siblings: Sābon. A timid little heretic she had been, but now she was a cold and imposing Anarche of Malal. Fondly, he flit his tongue, a grin playing about his skeletal face.
“ To what do we owe the pleasure, baby Saby?”
He couldn’t see her face through her eyelids, but the Malicious knew she was scowling. He could hear it in her voice next she spoke,
“ Do not call me that.” Sābon approached her lounging sibling. She didn’t fancy the knuckles-walk her kin liked to do, strickly a two-hooves Greater Daemon. It did little to distract from her dimunitiveness.
“ Don’t you have your own tasks? I believe seeing to the rats?”
“ I have seen to them. And their trail has led me to An’ggrath. Another one of your marks that you are shirking.”
“ He is a powerful mark. Xhârn tells me he put ugly, grevious wounds upon even Skarbrand’s hide.”
“ A fight that the skaven engineered. They are trying to take him from our thrall. Kill him with the next best thing: Skarbrand.”
“ Not a bad plan....” Xögrym murmurs. “ In fact.... your visit is fortuitous. I am expecting a visit from the Reaper. And An’ggrath is still loose. But with you, myself, and Arlaêy, perhaps we can erase this thorn in our sides once and for all. Kill two birds with a singular stone.”
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