Chapter Text
Zuxok was deeply immersed in reading the Book of Thousand Whispers, or Nine Hundred ninety-nine Incantations and One Summoning. He paid a hefty price to get it in his possesion. Two dozen slaves, a chestful of weapons possessed in various degrees, and a pack of rolled Lho-sticks2 .The dirty smuggler who sold it to him probably took it from the city of Tizca. From a dumpster most likely. He often thought. A magical one, with flames spewing out of it3.
(2 paper tubes with plant narcotics in it. Short for Laughting Head Off)
(3it was a magical trash can, from a magical office. It still had magical fire coming out of it, but it was less spectacular, more like if someone lit a very big candle)
He was crouched outside the tent of their Enlightened One, so deeply focused on the words that he could not hear the delirious thrills and aroused squawks coming from the inside of the tent.
The exalted Shaman Ka’Hoot The Giver of the Fatecasters declared between dry caws, that thier path wasblocked. The Ever Shifting Winds forced the flock to make a camp, as to not be affected all be mass afflicted by the blessing of Tzeench4. After they passed, the flock shall continue their pilgrimage to the Dark Mechanicum manufactorum in search of trades.
(4Chaos spawns make surprisingly poor marksmen5 )
(5or markswoman, or markspersons. This is a reason why there is no such thing as a marksspawn)
Although Zuxok was trying his best to read the book, which at this point was so worn out it was barely hanging by a threat, he had to shove his beak deeper into the pages as the stomps of a Chaosspawn who stumbled to enter the tent and join the fun shook the ground.
He recognized them as former Jereko’ko, the Tzaangor who always told jokes a tad too loud around the campfire. He was chosen to bear the blessings of Tzeentch after the last fight with another nomadic warband. His, or their new appearance was quite different as they now sprouted a darker, thicker skin oh their body but bright blue on thier head6, quills that have opened up into dark almost iridescent feathers, and weird red fleshy protrusions on his neck7.
(6a sign of devotion to Tzeench)
(7it was currently debated if it was a sign of devotion to Tzeentch, Slaneesh or Khorn)
He felt his quills rise as the Chaos Spawn let out deep vocal goobles, as it drowned the cauldron with the concoction that the Enlightened circle of Tzaangors in the flock decided to brew in hopes of reaching another realm of understanding the Lord of Sorcery's Ways.
The effects seem to have been quite potent, judging by how eager the other members of the flock were to join the group in the tent.
Zuxok focused on the words in front of him.
‘…….tautologies are pretty much useless in helping you locate the fundamental truth, therefore empirical evidence, that can be replicated is needed to determine the proper and safe practices of ..…’ He started reading out loud, ignoring the trills that fluctuated in intensity from the tent behind him.
He knew the words by heart. Even with his eyes closed, he could rewrite the book page by page.
Zuxok tried not to let his thoughts drift off, cursing the noises that disturbed his reading.
Something shifted in the air.
The pressure dropped like an incoming storm, as if a crushing presence was about to appear from thin air.
The feeling became all-encompassing as the unseen forces were pressing themselves into him.
He let out a weak squawk as the power concentrated in his skull.
Zuxok could feel his brain being pushed outside, trying to escape its bony containment. Blood vessels bursted in his eyes covering his sight with red, and pink flesh started to come out from his nostrils.
He grabbed his head as he cried in agony.
Blood started to pour from the corner of his beak.
Images of a Kroot flashed in his mind.
…….he must eat the greenskin flesh to gain its essence………
His break sprang open, with his tong lolling outside, as pink foam started forming and dropping to the ground.
…….place this mark on the ork flesh…….
His eyes rolled back into his skull and choking, ragged gasps came out of him.
……..use this spell to teleport away……..
His back arched as all his muscles went into tetanus, his bones cracked painfully and his tendons stretched to their very limits, threatening tobsnap in two.
…….go as far and in as many places as you can…….
The pressure stopped.
The presence left as fast as it came.
Zuxok’s muscles relaxed as he collapsed into the dust. Pages of the book, that he ripped in two while in the thorn of his communion, started flying in the dry winds.
Moments pass, as Zuxok struggled to breathe.
‘Master.’ He cooed and clicked weakly.
A few more quiet moments passed.8
(8 except the moans and screeches of ecstasy from the tent)
The wind was loud in Zuxok’s ears.
After a few more standard minutes, he rose, shoving the remains of his book into one of the many bags he wore on his just as many belts.
He drew a deep breath, then drew some more air inside of his lungs, then released it into an ear-splitting9 screech.
After he was done, there was no noise around him.
Curious caws started being heard from the tent, as more and more Tzaangors started showing out of every tent and shelter in their camp.
(9 sanity splitting as well)
Zuxok raised his hands, emboldened by the confidence that the dried blood and split around his face provided.
‘The Master has spoken to me!’ He declared with a joyful thrill. ‘He calls us to war!’
He waved his hand in the air, trying to summon and manifest into reality an image of the memory he was entrusted with, only to fail and create a blurry smoke cloud around him.
He started violently coughing. We must….’ Another bloody cough interrupted him. ‘….Kill the Greenskins!’ He said with tears in his eyes.
The crowd was skeptical for a moment, all still looking slightly confused, before someone started cheering. Then, they all started cheering, cooing, squawking, screeching, goobling, and roaring.
Zuxok, while still coughing his lungs out, drew some arcane symbols of power , while thinking about the spell that was revealed to him by his vision, opening a portal.
He opened his beak, ready to give the go-ahead, only to be overtaken by another coughing fit.
While still coughing, he stumbled towards the portal, graceless falling into it.
The group kept cawing and whistling, as they started to follow him. Some Tzaangors stopped to go and grab their weapons, but most already went inside, after Zuxok.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar was ready for his first battle.
The kindred of his clan were traveling the galaxy in the service of the Rogue Trader De Drakonus. He was taught that name from the moment he was old enough to understand words. The Rogue Trader protected them, offered them help if the need arose, but also asked them to fight for her.
Right now it was time to fight.
An Orkish klan10 was threatening their wings in the void. Their voidcraft.
(10it was actually a band of orks hired by another Rogue Trader. They just horribly misunderstood the terms: broker, impact investment, grinding, and work-life balance)
A vox-message called them in a room called Atrium.
It told them to prepare to fight the orks that were about to hit the side of the ship.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar gripped his Hunting Rifle tighter, and touched his Hunting Knife that was still well fastened on his hip. He started following the leader of the group.
‘Remember.’ The elderly of the group clicked a few times to mark the importance of his words.’You can eat the orks. Shaper told us it is important to bring back some as well.’
Chirps resounded in the quiet room as his kindred agreed.
With a crackle of static, the voice on the vox caster came to life.
Prepare for impact in 10 standard seconds.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar tried to hide his shaking.
It was his first time fighting. He could finally eat something that he killed all by himself.
With a terrible crash, the hull bent inside.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar grabbed his rifle, aiming it at a random spot on the hull.
For a single second, the silence was deafening.
Then the hole then exploded like an overfilled blister, and a torrent of green started pouring out, accompanied by screams of war.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar started shooting, alongside his kindred, but the smoke was gathering fast, rendering vision and smell useless.
The young Kroot blinked, trying not to couch from the smoke, as the threatening screams started growing closer and closer.
A blue light struck the place.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar looked around confused.
Fear was starting to gnaw at his heels as unfamiliar calls and screeches joined the battle.
The atmosphere was so cluttered with smoke from the orkish engines that he couldn’t see three steps in front of him.
He squawked in fear as he aimed at nothing and took a shot.
A body slammed into him, a strong muscly arm of an unusual pale color and with unfamiliar quills, wrapped around him, making him drop his rifle. This new person managed to get close enough to be seen through the smoke.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar looked at the stranger, shocked by their appearance.
It was a tall birdman, with alabaster skin, blue quills, and horns of the same color as their beak.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar didn’t even have time to make a click, as this stranger used a severed ork hand, waving it in the air as if it was trying to write with it.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar’s eyes widened even more as a blue, crackling portal opened before them.
The stranger started to move, and Ohrakcha Ga’ar relizing the implications, started struggling to escape his grip.
He felt for his knife, as the two of them jumped into the portal, leaving the rest of the Kroots to face the green tide alone11.
(11 as well as the Tzaangors who were now stuck to fight here until they all died. Later, based on the presence of the chaos mutants, the Rogue Trader had to conduct extensive investigations, which led to the discovery of a xeno infiltration12 )
(12 unfortuantely, and not before executing all the xeno, did the Rogue Trader realize that they were the same Kroots she hired as mercenaries)
The two jumped out of the portal13, falling into the desert ground.
(13"jump out" of it can be read in the same way one would read split out of it. It was very similar with how a Cyber-Mastiff would spit out a pill that their Master covered in three slices of finely cut meat)
Zuxok groaned as he landed beak first into a soft spot on the ground. His nostrils were now full of sand.
Jumping through portals14 seemed easy if you happened to be a heavy Chaos spawn or a Transhuman. He thought.
(14 it would have been easier to just calmly walk through them, like everybody else was doing.)
He started pushing himself out, and after a bit of a struggle, his beak was released from the ground with a pop and a small waterfall of sand.
‘Bleah!’ He exclaimed, then felt the cold, sharp kiss of a Hunting Blade near the base of his skull.
A series of demanding clicks resounded in the air.
‘If you kill me, you will never find your way back.’ He bluffed. ‘Only my powers can activate the portals.’ He hoped that the sandy place that the portal randomly took them to was in the middle of a desert.
By Tzeentch and His Many Changing Forms, please be in the middle of a wasteland.
A few angry crows were his answer. Zuxok lifted his eyes, looking around from the immobilized position he was in.
It looks like a desert, and it tastes like one, too15.
(15it tasted better than his flockmate's attempt at making Crispbread16. As the old Tzaangor saying goes, “A relative alive is here to make you Crispbread, a relative dead can be burned to ash and baked into Crispbread”)
( 16the dirt from accidentally dropping them on the ground gave them texture)
‘Why did you kidnap me?’ He used a sharp tone, demanding answers with aggressive clicks of his tongue.
‘The Architect of Fate saw that you must survive this battle. You propose is bigger than what you know.’ Zuxok lied.
They both fell silent for a moment.
A quizzical trill broke the silence. ‘Too many kindred. Was surrounded by family.’ Ohrakcha Ga’ar argued.
The Tzaangor fell silent, as he had not the slightest clue how to respond to that.
After a few awkward moments, he felt the blade press on the back of his neck again.
‘We could have defeated the orks, with little losses.’ Ohrakcha Ga’ar explained with a frustrated tone. 'No need for a building planner of fate to intervene.'
Zuxok smiled with the flexible corners of his beak. He got the Kroot talking.
‘The Powers To Be showed me that you wouldn’t have gotten alive out of that confrontation.’ Zuxok started gesturing with the ork arms on the ground while letting out excited trills, feeling his quills perk up. ‘Your destiny is Glorious! Therefore, I came to save you.’ He felt emboldened by how well the Kroot seemed to listen.
Silence fell over them again. The only noise was their breathing and the scraping of the knife on his neck.
‘What about my family? ‘ Chirped the Kroot. ‘ Are they alive?’
‘Yes!’ the Tzaangor screeched. ‘Let me go so I can tell you more.’
The Kroot decided to stubbornly sit on his some more, until it gave up, and stood up, letting Zuxok raise.
Zuxok stood, up, shaking himself of sand and dust, letting out displeased croaks.
‘I am Zuxok the Truth Seeker.’ He turned to face the Kroot, who was puffing up his quills at him. ‘I just saved you from your imminent demise, therfore you should start showing some gratitude.’ He huffed indignantly.
‘Ohrakcha Ga’ar.’ The Kroot said before he jumped with his Hunting Knife back at Zuxok’s neck. ‘ Now bring me back to my kindred.’
‘Calm down, working with those sorts of sorceries takes time17. And I don’t see you being any help.’ He pushed the blade down with his finger.
(17and the knowledge of how to use it. Which Zuxok didn't have. He kept repeating the word "tautology" in his mind while waving his hand and recalling how a portal was supposed to look)
‘Truth Seeker.’ Ohrakcha Ga’ar brought up the blade. ‘Bring me back to my ship, this is your last warning.’
Zuxok swallowed.
‘I need to meditate on the portal, I need time!’ He cursed losing his sword in the last fight, but he still held the enchanyed meat, that he grabbed from the ground to etch on the symbols that were in his vision.
He raised the ork hand in between the two as an offering, chirping a calming tone.
‘A day.’
Ohrakcha Ga’ar watched him while narrowing his eyes.
He snatched the hand from him, and turned away, looking in the distance for any shelter.
‘Half a day.’
Zuxok's beak corners rose in a wicked smile.
‘As you wish!’
He sat down, assuming his meditative position.
Zuxok sat down as well, in silence and tried his best to not be seen peaking at the other, while also trying to meditate18. The Kroot sat down, throwing glances at him, and sniffing the green skinned hand.
(18thinking about what you will do to taunt your possibly dead flockmates isn’t considered meditation, as much as Zuxok would want to think it as.)
To his surprise, the Kroot started praying, eyes closed and head bowed.
It lasted quite a while, and Zuxok was about to interrupt him when the Kroot snapped his eyes open and started viciously biting into the dead flesh.
He tried not to smile, and waited another hour before standing up.
‘It is done! My arcane knowledge is unmatched!’ He declared, examining Ohrakcha Ga’ar as best as he could.
‘Time to go home.’ Ohrakcha Ga’ar said, impassively, as he stood up as well, scratching his head, and making some small pieces of dead skin fall off.
The Tzaangor grinded his beak in joy.
‘Since home is on a void ship, expect some potential wrong coordinates.’ He tried his beast to appeared as if he knew what he was doing.
‘Truth Seeker?’ The Kroot asked while shooting him a wary look.
Zuxok felt offended by the tone and the clicking that accompanied it.
The Tzaangor flicked his hand in the air in the most dramatical way he could manage.
A portal opened with a resounding crack.
He turned to offer his hand to the Kroot.
‘Hold my hand.' There was silence. 'So we don’t get separated in the warp portal.’ He lied.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar let out a sarcastic quack, and rolled his eyes, before grabbing the hand and stepping inside the portal.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar tumbled out of the portal landing on top of his kidnapper.
He lifted his head to rub it, while letting out abrupt squawks of pain.
A few pieces of what looked like dry skin flaked off, and fell onto the ground.
The jump was brutal, and he felt like his gizzard was about to expel its content. His ears were ringing.
He clicked his tongue a few times, trying to focus on the noise.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar realized that it wasn’t his ears that were ringing.
He snapped his eyes open, looking at the sky.
Above them, missiles were flying in the sky, forming a symphony of different amplitude pitches.
Missiles coming from both sides.
They were in the middle of a war zone.
He turned around, making alarmed chirping noises, as the Beastman stood up.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar let out an accusatory thrill, as he pointed at the Human Imperator Titan19 walking towards them from the left side.
(19 it is easy to tell if a Titan is on the battlefield just by looking at the ammo used by the opposite side. If they are using anti-Titan shells, the enemy probably has a Titan)
‘By the Changing Winds!’ Zuxok said, as his jaw dropped.’ Run!’ He screeched as he turned around, only to notice another Titan, this one a, Chaos Warmonger-class Emperor Titan 20.
(20to Ohrakcha Ga’ar they looked identical. Zuxok swears on his beak that he feels the Deamonic energies in the Chaos Titan)
He kept turning, looking from one threat to another, as more and more missiles flew through the sky.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar decided to intervene, and slapped the Tzaangor.
The shock seemed to put an end to the frantic movements, as Zuxok looked at him, shocked by the fact that he was hit.
‘You just hit me!’ He said incredulously.
‘Yes.’ Replied shortly Ohrakcha Ga’ar.
‘After I saved you?’
‘Yes. Focus! Open another portal!’
Ohrakcha Ga’ar could hear the sounds of the war vehicles, and he could feel bullets buzzing through the air, hitting the ground like tiny meteors21.
(21 A common occurrence when you have ammo the size of a clenched fist. Chaos might be the Archenemy, but wind resistance was the caching up quickly to it on the Imperium’s list)
Zuxok took another moment to get his bearings back, and as a bullet hit the ground next to him, splashing earth like it was water.
He screamed.
‘Fine!’ Wavinghis hand and recalling the symbols in his mind, he forces reality to part to his will. ‘Give me your hand, to jump through the portal!’
Ohrakcha Ga’ar went ahead and grabbed the Beastman’s clawed palm, dragging his into the portal.
After their next crash out of the portal, Zuxok could hear panicked screams.
He jumped to his feet and unsheathed a cursed blade22 he held under one of the many bags and satchels around his middle.
(22 a few millennia ago, the trend of Greater Daemons binding lesser ones into weapons was a very popular form of punishment for those who disobeyed them. Luckily, like every trend, it died quite fast. Nothing was more embarrassing than to admit that your weapon had an Immaterium spirit that messed up their Greater Daemon's Blood Tea23)
(23 it was an easy mistake to make because no one was sure what blood tea was. The servants of Slaneesh halved blood with freshly brewed tea, the followers of Nurgle just let dried blood steep in warm water, while the followers of Khron swore that it was fresh blood mixed with recaff.)
He heard Ohrakcha Ga’ar quack angrily at him.
‘You had a weapon this whole time!’ He screamed at Zuxok, as he held up his own hunting knife in a defensive position.
The human screaming at them already had their pistol pulled out and aiming, while the T’au Water cast was screaming for his guards.
‘JIkita, drop your weapon and surrender.’ The T’au Por’ver tried to control the situation.
‘Is this an ambush, Por’Shinhju? Have you fallen into cahoots with the archenemy?’ The human emissary was aiming at Zuxok’s head. The Beastman could see the trigger being pulled and jumped out of the way before he even heard the bang.
He pushed Ohrakcha Ga’ar down as he jumped over him, leaving a poof of dandruff in the air where they once stood.
‘I assure you that we are not!’ The Water cast sounded desperate24.
(24 he wasn’t. In fact, he was elated. The meeting was going horrible, given the sheer fact that the human brought a servant with clairvoyance, and was refusing every and all of Por’Shihju’s proposals. The moment when the portal opened in the middle of the trade deal, he already scheduled another meeting, alongside someone with more experience in the field of fortune telling.)
‘Seize them!’ He screamed, and Ohrakcha Ga’ar saw two hulking T’au bodyguards approaching them.
‘We need to leave now!’ Ohrakcha Ga’ar screeched.
‘I am on it!' Zuxok screamed as he waved his hand and reality split open with a roar.
As a buff T’au25 came closer intending to grab them by their clawed feet, the two pushed forwards, and slid into the portal, which closed behind them with a roar of reality cracking back into place.
(25 there are many requirements to be fulfilled, if one wishes to be Aun’el’s personal bodyguard, one of them being perfectly symmetrical and very protruding abdominal muscles. A slight asymmetry is enough to put you in service of a Water Cast’s personal retinue)
The portal spit them in a muddy, dingy room, in what looked like the basement of a human building.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar let out a sad, soft coo, as he didn’t recognize the surroundings.
‘At least it is not the open plains, again.’ He let out a soft whistle, melancholy edged deep into its pitch. ‘We need to jump again.’
Zuxok was dry heaving, feeling his gizzard rebel against the brutality of the warp portal travel. He lifted himself, to examine the surroundings.
‘The, the’ he stopped as his stomach turned quite sharply. ‘ The Master’s plan is unknown.’ He leaned his horned head on the wall, vision still blurred, but not enough not to notice the glaring clue in front of them.
He whistled sharply, lifting a finger to point at the wall before them.
‘The Weaver of Fate’s favor is upon us!’
Ohrakcha Ga’ar turned to look, quills puffing up, spreading some dandruff around.
On the wall in front of them was the sign of Tzeentch, poorly painted, and even more poorly hidden by Imperial Paraphernalia and symbols25.
(25symbols such as the two-headed Aquila pendants, children's and adults’ drawings of the Primarchs with their name and age in the corner, and a framed picture autographed by the God Emperor of Mankind after he got on the Golden Throne)
Ohrakcha Ga’ar let out a calm squawk, as he turned to look at the follower.
‘Safe now.’ He chirped. ‘But not for long, can we jump again?’ He asked while tilting his head.
Zuxok shook his head, making his quills rattle.
‘No!’ He decided after looking around. ‘We were brought here with a purpose, and we shall fulfill it!’
Without looking, he turned and started climbing the stairs of the basement.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar rushed to follow him as the Beastman opened a door that led inside a noisy room.
Following the sorcerer, the Kroot stepped inside and noticed the many people who were loudly chatting, drinking, and eating.
His gizzard rumbled, as he let out a trill that he used when he was a mere babe, and begged his mother for food.
Zuxok turned to look at his, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
The warrior didn’t spend enough time with these races to know the meaning of the gesture.
‘I am hungry.’ he said, shrugging. The Beastman seemed intent on keeping his alive, he might as well ask to replenish his forces back.
He has been feeling rather drained after everything that happened.
Maybe that "Weaver of Baskets"26 that he goes on and on about could offer us a nest to sleep as well?
(26 Tzeentche’s hobbies are as many as are his shapes)
Zuxok looked at his, eyes wide in shock, then threw his head backward and let out loud amused screeches.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar stomped his feet angrily and lounged for a mock bite to warm his companion.
‘Did all the teleportation make you hungry?’ Zuxok kept laughing while wiping a tear. ‘Are you really making baby noises at me, what are you a fledgling?’
Ohrakcha Ga’ar lunged again, this time leaving an imprint of his beack’s bite on the Beastman's arm
‘I am tired and hungry.’ He declared.
Both of which were true.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar could only recall a single time whise he felt as tired as he did now, and it was after a three day hunt to catch his first prey.
‘Fine, fine, I will stop!’ Zuxok jumped back. ‘Let’s get some food.’ He added as he started walking towards the bartender.
‘People seem to not mid us?’ Ohrakcha Ga’ar chriped curiously, as he noted how no one was sparing more than a glance in their direction.
‘The Beastmen were considered Abhumans, and therefore part of the Imperium for the longest of time. On many words we used to lead the spearhead charges of the Imperial Army, but now, things have changes.’ He ended darkly.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar clicked his tongue curiously, but the bartender interrupted their conversation by asking Zuxok what did they want.
He proceeded to remove one of his many tiny bags off his belt, and offered it to the Human, while asking for two “Whatever you have that could pass as grub around here, and make sure it is accompanied by something strong!”
The Human left, before coming back with two very deep plates with gray sludge in them and two wooden mugs filled with more gray sludge.
Zuxok grabbed his own, before bringing the plate closer to his beak and letting some of the sludge pour down his throat.
‘Craw!’ He burped loudly. ‘Now this is the strong stuff I needed!’
The Kroot sniffed his plate, he would have thought that this was the food, not the drink.
‘What is this?” He asked as two of his quills fell off from the ungodly stench that the “drink” was making.
‘Corpsestarch!’
Ohrakcha Ga’ar decided to just stick to consuming the content of the mug.
It smelled of strong alcohol27.
(2799.9% starch alcohol, 0.1% radioactive elements)
Zuxok led him to an isolated table, but Ohrakcha Ga’ar couldn’t help but notice how people seemed to bow slightly as they passed them, some even moving out of the way.
They sat in a dingy corner, one in front of the other, as the Tzaangor started licking his gray sludge like it was the most delicious thing in the galaxy28.
(28 Soylens Viridians is a bland but otherwise filling and somewhat nutritious vat-grown foodstuff whose main ingredient is usually a form of green algae. Most humans would think that one was probably turned into a servitor if they found this stuff delicious. Most humans have not tasted Tzaangors' traditional cooking)
Ohrakcha Ga’ar took a conservative sip of his drink and then made a face right after.
He shook his head, sneezing.
‘Vile!’ he croaked.
Zuxok laughed and clicked at him, as he took a hearty swing, downing half of his mug.
‘That’s why I got it!’ He squawked happily. ‘I had this all the time while serving in the Imperial Army!’
Ohrakcha Ga’ar who was licking curiously at his meal, trying to figure out what it was, raised his eyes at the same time as his quills perked up.
‘In the Astra Militarum? A servant of the Unseen ones?’ He said accompanied by a series of quick clicks.
‘Before this.’ Zuxok lowered his eyes, the joy brought by food was all but gone from them. ‘Eat your food. You'll need the strength.’
Ohrakcha Ga’ar‘s quills dropped low as he eyed the unappetizing mess.
‘Only if you tell me more!’ He decided.
Zuxok grinded his beak, trying to hide his displeasure.
‘Just eat.’ He said tired.
‘No! I desire the previous exchange agreement!’ Ohrakcha Ga’ar said in a sing-song tone while crossing his arms.
It took a moment for Zuxok to respond, his gaze unfocused like he was looking into memories of a time long gone.
‘…….Before the son of the corpse worshipers came back, we were considered Humans. Abhumans was the term. ‘We were many, gathered in packs, to serve as the spearhead of the Imperial forces.’ The last word sounded more like an insult.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar was listening enthralled, as he mindlessly started to grab the sludge between his fingers and bring it to his mouth.
‘It was hard but fair. Some were treated poorly, but some were treated ……like proper citizens, enough to give the rest of us hope that the Corpse’s Grace will shine upon us as well.’ He clicked angrily. ‘Then, the cursed Son of the False Emperor came.’ He whistled an insult. ‘ He implemented the Register of Proscribed Citizens, declaring us mutants. Too risky to keep because we might fall to the whims of the enemy.’ He crooked furiously. ‘So we all started hiding away, trying not to be killed because we made the mistake of existing. Some of us started having visions.’ He finally looked at Ohrakcha Ga’ar, his eyes were fanatical, sparkling with barely contained power. ‘The Weaver of Fates founds us. His followers taught us how to master the power of the warps, how to live among them, how to be enlightened!’ chirps filled the gaps between his words, as he raised his hands as if trying to contain the blessings he received.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar swallowed the last mushy piece of overboiled sludge. He didn’t know what to say and decided to just pretend to chew.
Zuxok looked at his, before letting his quills settle from his previous ruffled positions.
‘I am happy with what I am now.’ The Tzaangor said. ‘ Blessed be the powers that move existence! Blessed be the Masters!’ He let out a happy trill, as he toasted in the air, before finishing the last of his mug29.
(29Ohrakcha Ga’ar was busy chewing on air. Yummy, recycled, and very polluted air!)
Ohrakcha Ga’ar let out a soft chirp.
‘I am sorry you went through this.’
‘Why are you sorry? You didn't do it.’ Zuxok tried smiling at him.
The look in his eyes was haunting.
‘Let us have one more.’ He started standing up when the door of the bar burst open.
Half a dozen humans dressed in black uniforms, armed with electric batons, led by a male with a tall hat30, stepped inside.
(30Hat Height ranking 237th on the official Inquisitorial Panelboard. There is an official who comes and measures those competing for the ranking)
Ohrakcha Ga’ar chirped curiously, as he turned to ask Zuxok for an explanation.
His quills ruffled, as he noticed the terrified expression on the Tzaangor’s face.
‘We need to run!’ The Kroot realized.
‘Imperial citizens! By the power invested in me by Holy Terra and the Adeptus Ministorum. I am Lord Inquisitor Mal Sabbices, and by the power of the Ordo Hereticus, I declare this establishment to be quarantined until we interrogate everyone here!’ The human male announced loudly.
‘Wait!’ Zuxok stopped his. ‘ Don’t run, they might start shooting at us, and the portal will draw their attention too fast.’
Ohrakcha Ga’ar frowned.
‘We’ve been shot at before.’ He protested.
Zuxok gave him a disappointed look.
‘We got lucky by the will of the Weaver. I don’t want to get shot at and die bleeding on an Imperial World.’ He clicked his beak anxious, as he threw around nervous glances. ‘ We need a distraction.’
Ohrakcha Ga’ar smiled, and his eyes taking on a dangerous glint.
‘I know the Human and their Imperium. This is a bar.’ He declared proudly.
Zuxok tilted his head in confusion.
‘Yes, it is a bar, so what?’
‘Humans fight in bars.’ Ohrakcha Ga’ar explained like one would to a child.
At Zuxok’s confused look, the Kroot shook his head, making his quills rattle, and turned to look at another patron.
It was a sad man, who kept his eyes on the mug in front of him.
Ohrakcha Ga’ar whistled softly at him to draw his attention.
The sad man looked at him, bowing his head slightly as a sign of respect.
He had a pendant with a now familiar symbol with blue and gold instead of the Imperial Two-Headed Aquila.
He pointed his beak at the Inquisitor who went straight to the bar and started softly, and rhythmically, slamming his fists on the table.
‘Fight! Fight!’ He said between clicks.
The man was confused for a second, then started repeating after him.
‘Fight! Fight!’ The said, gaining more and more courage, as the other patrons turned to look at him.
More voices started repeating the chanting, louder and louder.
‘Fight! Fight!’
The Inquisitor turned around, looking confused at the mass of people who were getting more and more animated by the moment.
‘Everybody stand down!’ He screamed, his voice drowning in the sea of people.
‘Fight! Fight!’ The chanting was loud, and someone started screaming.
‘I said shut up!’ He said, his large hat wobbling precariously.
Someone screamed and smacked him with a chair.
‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!’ The words lost their meaning as humans started punching and stabbing each other. The ones who could, started shooting their guns, managing to only create more chaos.
Blood and violence started filling the air.
Zuxok was impressed.
He stood up and looked at Ohrakcha Ga’ar who was smiling at him.
‘See, humans fight!’
‘Yes, they do, my friend!’ Admitted Zuxok with a trill of laughter, as he waved his hand, opening another portal and offering his hand for the Kroot to grab.
‘Let’s find the way back to your flock!’