Mezhan Kwaad

Note: Well i'm back from the festival, and here is the rest of chapter 10. Thanks muchly to the people who commented on the fic while I was away, always appreciated and thanks for reading! :)

I have also begun pressing on with request art, while I am taking no more requests for the meanwhile, I do intend to honour all those requests I received before the cut off date (the list got a bit long!).

Here is a small preview of what I am working on at the moment.



I am not sure if this will be cropped to fit the page, if not, just click on it for the full view.

And now the fic...enjoy!



Chapter 10 pt2 :

Nom Anor inclined his head ever so slightly, proceeding to take one last conspicuous glance around the room. This was perhaps as safe as things got on Sekot, he mused inwardly.

"You will arrange for one of your attendants to meet me here at the end of the day cycle, I will dispatch to them, what is required for our...message, to be presented as an undeniably serious one."

From T'arlann shoolb, there was no sound, so Nom Anor took it as his cue to continue,

"Before this time, you must select four or five prospective candidates, one from each of the castes - those who can lead by example, those who inspire."

It was now that the elderly prefect recovered his previously lost tongue,

"I do not have enough time to-"

But Nom Anor had already raised an accusatory finger, "You will make time, we cannot afford to wait just yet, groundwork is everything at this stage."

Surprisingly enough, the perplexed prefect nodded in agreement, but it was not without it's usual amount of suspicion.

"You sound like you have done this before." He grumbled, and Nom Anor found his palm aching to find the pommel of that coufee secreted upon his person. Yet again T'arlann Shoolb surprised him.

"I understand," He offered, "By the end of the day cycle then."

Finishing with a resolute nod, he waited to hear what the profusely annoying and arrogant one would say next. He was not disappointed.

"I will need only a few things from you in the meanwhile, a private and unused chamber, access to shaping resources and plenty of undisturbed time alone. Unless of course, it is of the utmost importance."

Nom Anor looked on as the prefect growled thoughtfully, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and readjusting that haughty posture of his.

"You were a shaper?" He asked, a just question - Nom Anor could not lie about that much at least, and yet, he would need to.

"Something to that effect." He waved off any further question with an uncaring gesture of his hand, "Can you provide me with what I require?" He asked, diverting.

The prefect wrung his hands in a sign of tension - so the old facades were slipping then? Even with those who remained loyal to the true way.

"There will be limitations, resources are missed if taken in large quantities, but I can arrange for small items to go missing, should you require them."

Nom Anor nodded his horrifically scarred head in approval, and finally decided to conclude things where they stood.

"Then we are in agreement, our talk is at an end, you can show me to the spare chamber now."

Despite the fact that Nom Anor had clearly overstepped the line with his rather commanding request there, it was the prefect's turn to look mildly smug. He clapped his hands together twice and a porthole at the back of the chamber dilated, allowing a spindly, rail-thin attendant, with half-finished red whorls of scarrification upon his cheeks, to enter.
As he approached, he cast a wary glance in the direction of Nom Anor, but saluted appropriately regardless of the stranger, when he approached the prefect.

"Lai, you will show Yem-zi to one of the empty chambers, I am assigning him to quality control of all resources bound for the shaper damuteks, be certain these reach him before being distributed." - it was the ideal solution to solving two problems and freeing up more of his time.

"Yes Prefect." The attendant intoned accordingly, and began to gesture for Nom Anor to follow him. This was before the prefect spoke once again.

"And report back here at the end of the day cycle,"

"Of course Prefect."

Lai then returned to leading Nom Anor through the still-open porthole at the far end of the chamber.

*****

Domain Skell Worldship, 145 Years ago.

Gooey, vaguely spherical and covered in a white, veiny ichor, the object that Nom Anor held in his clawed hands, looked about as far from a villip as far cries could get.
The seedlings he had procured from the villip paddy's, may have been imperfect - inexperienced as he was, young in the ways of the intendants, his critical eye was not yet well trained enough to have told the difference from seedlings that would produce the accustomed biot, as opposed to what he was staring at now. At least that was what he preferred to believe, there could be no fault with his shaping, however secret and improvised it was.

Shaping had, at the start, been a difficult and trying art to perfect, but Nom Anor liked to think he had improved his own techniques with age. This had been his first attempt at shaping something already known to he and other Yuuzhan Vong, everything else had been a laborious process of cell and tissue shaping, learning the essential basics to splicing those samples into something usable. It had taken longer, of course, without the aid of a master to show him where he was going right or wrong and he could not have blamed any shaper initiate for laughing aloud at his efforts.
But Nom Anor knew, eventually, his perseverance would pay off and he would be free to languish in his private triumph.

Stroking the small biot with one calloused finger, he looked on with baited breath and tense anticipation, as the small brownish blob began to evert with a wet slurp of a sound. Revealed inside the biot's fleshy confines, the vague recreation of a familiar face began to take form. The inverted surface of the villip began to ripple with effort, a sign that it was finding it's first task in the big wide universe a difficult one, but eventually, the face was clear enough to make out.

"Nom Anor," The voice of Maliia Skell intoned, unimpressed, "It never ceases to amaze me, how much Yun-Harla delights in your tricks."

Nom Anor grinned broadly and slowly so as to make sure her villip would capture his triumphant smile perfectly.

"Then it worked as expected?" He asked, with more than his usual amount of arrogance.

The villip before him tilted forward slightly, indicating that Maliia Skell had nodded in the affirmative.

"Although it looks like it has spent the largest part of a klekket beneath the copious backside of a scrubbing korsk." She responded flatly.

Details, Nom Anor thought, it was all a matter of fine tuning the details.

"A minor issue, I assure you. The main fact is that it worked."

Maliia Skell's reply was immediate and to the point, as usual,
"After how many attempts, exactly?"

She never was any less scathing, even when she was being nice - He liked that, Nom Anor realized as he listened to her continue,

"When will you discard this ridiculous charade?"

Yes, she knew how to cut right to the core of his every shadow that draped across his mind, that was no lie, but in terms of an answer, he was almost lost for words. Almost.

"I do not profess to be a shaper," He began indignantly, "I merely wish to dabble in their more basic arts, it will be of use when-"

He paused, cutting himself off, he had not spoken of his plans to anyone, even she, who he trusted a little bit more than the rest of his peers. There was a growing dissent among the children of the gods, an uprising was on the horizon and Nom Anor had heard whispers of a coming coup.

Quorreal, the Supreme Overlord, for longer than Nom Anor could remember, had received word most recently, of a galaxy beyond the endless void that contained many worlds upon which the Yuuzhan Vong could settle. Nom Anor could not be certain why, however, the decrepitly aging overlord had been almost fearful - so some privy to his court had told - of starting an invasion of this already inhabited galaxy. The gods had apparently advised against it - but this was not the words of the priests.
No, Quorreal must have known something they did not, for only those closest to him had supported the Supreme one devoutly in his beliefs.

Chief among these supporters, was Warmaster Czulkang Lah - who's own firstborn son opposed him. Word had it, that the priests and shapers had already selected a rising star among the Yuuzhan Vong, someone who may well become Quorreal's prospective successor in due time. A twin, no less, whim had slain his own brother in a traditional twin-sacrifice at the tender age of seven.

Nom Anor was merely astounded that the priests had waited that long for a twin sacrifice, but the twins had been of the intendant caste, and not the warriors. Many would benefit from the rise of a new Supreme Overlord and Nom Anor had every intention of being one such people.

"-When?" Maliia Skell's harsh, rasping voice hissed into the middle of his reverie.

"It is nothing of importance now." Nom Anor dismissed with a wave of a hand that she would never see. But her eyes narrowed and he swore he could hear the villip attempting to recreate the sounds of grinding teeth.

Finally, she bit out a retort, "You are a supporter of that usurper, Shimrra."

Nom Anor rolled his eyes. True enough, this was the subject on most lips these days, but he supported one thing and one thing only, himself. Maliia Skell should have known this by now, and it annoyed him for reasons he could not quite explain.

"You assume too much." He responded bitterly, and to his relief, it seemed to have ceased her gnashing teeth.

Unfortunately for Nom Anor, it had not ceased the turning of her mind with it.

"Do you believe that Yun-Yuuzhan has ceased to commune with the Supreme One?" She asked and Nom Anor vented a small chuckle,

"I believe that is for the gods to decide." He deviated, and silently congratulated himself for such a speedy recovery, then continued, "This test was a success, you may return that villip to me now."

He placed a hand over the leathery blob, and waited while it inverted, taking Maliia Skell's troubled features with it. She was getting to be more trouble than she was worth. Her prying made him uneasy, a strange state for a Yuuzhan Vong to feel, he supposed, but he did not consider himself average, far from it. One day, he knew he would need to make a decision concerning his little friend.
But he wasn't going to like it.

*****

Zonama Sekot, Present Day.

?It is imperative that this podnith reaches the temple of unity before the end of the nightcycle, it contains important information for the priests of Yun-Ne?shel, do you understand Lai?? Nom Anor intoned as he carefully hefted the large mollusc-like container into the arms of the waiting attendant before him.

As promised, T?arlann Shoolb had sent him the attendant he required to complete the first stage of his plan, along with the storage qahsa that listed the names of those he considered to still be loyal to the true way.
-Good, he thought, the list would make the tasks to follow, much, much easier.

Lai, an all too shamed-looking and gangly attendant, nodded reverently, clearly eager to seek the approval of others - it was pathetic, which made him an excellent choice for this task.

?I do,? He reiterated, taking the scaly pod between his hands carefully.

Nom Anor nodded once, pleased enough with the reply, and remembering that he only had one set of fingers with which to steeple his hands, thus stopping the potentially embarrassing action before he could perform it.

?May the gods speed you on your way.?

The attendant, who had already begun to go on his way, paused, looking somewhat hesitantly at the severely scarred extolled one, who had handed him the podnith in good faith. He was not entirely sure why, but he could not shake the terrible sense of foreboding that now seemed to underpin his every movement.
It clung to him like his own shadow, dark, weightless yet ominous.
Lai found himself wondering if he should have bid his crèche mates an honourable farewell.

No- this was foolish, he decided, he would be back before the world?s current primary had set fully upon the horizon.

Nom Anor watched Lai leave reluctantly, it wouldn?t do for T?arlann Shoolb to have picked a bad servant for this task. But the former shamed one?s pitiful and weedy appearance would make him the last person that anyone would suspect, regardless of his demeanour. He would have no choice but to have faith in the old prefect?s choice.

And so he watched Lai go, waiting to let enough time pass so that he too, would be able to slip away from the damutek unnoticed, and return to the grashal he begrudgingly called home. There he could relax a while, the proverbial calm before the storm. It was going to be a chaotic night.

TBC.






]