*Hangs her head and walks in in shame* Yes, I know....I have been awfully slow on the update, you can do something horrible like hug me if it makes you feel better :p
I personal drama sort of over and done with, I have an update for anyone who's been reading!

I will also add some more art previews to this edition of my blog when I am next at home, because I have done quite a bit to that huge painting since anyone outside of my studio last saw it :) There are a few things new in my photos up there too.

But for now, here's the next part of my fic. Brace for impact, this one is long

As I Die - Chapter 14 pt 3

The grashal was empty, Tinuu had noticed upon his swift return, the occupants out with the recovery and clean up teams, or attending memorial services - a rather new thing to their society - he supposed. He should have been present at the latter in retrospect, but the extolled one could not stomach that quite yet. Today had revealed far too much of the grim reality of their situation for him to bear...but he couldn't sit idle and let this perpetuate. His head was overrun with thoughts, fearful thoughts of the future. He had thought of nothing else all the way here.

But wallowing in his fear did no one any good, least of all those he cared about and those he had made silent promises to, Sae among them. He had promised her he would do something with the knowledge he had attained, something to bring this situation to an end before something far worse happened.
But that was just the question - what could he do?

Born into shame, he had no or few skills from a past glorious life to help him, save for his adeptness in servitude and submission to the upper castes. He could fight, barely - and subterfuge he had learned from his time among the heretics. It was not enough, he realized, to be effective against a whole order!
His twin, Shaah, must hate him by now, he could have used his support right now, could have told him what had transpired at the shaper damutek, but that would blow this whole situation wide open and who truly knew how many of these traditionalists walked among them?

Beating the heels of his hands against his forehead, Tinuu paced, scouring his mind for the solution he just had to find. Think! How could the traditionalists infiltrate their society?
And then it hit him, that was exactly it, they hadn't had to, they had been there all along. So it would be those who remained loyal to Sekot, who were forced to infiltrate the select groups of traditionalists, much like the heretics had gotten to certain members of the true caste society during the end of the war. The concept, initially, was mind boggling, but Tinuu knew the only way to eat the proverbial vua'sa was one limb at a time...this was a start that saw him better off than five minutes ago.

So he had the beginnings of an idea, and he had already given his word to the shaper Adept that he was indeed one of them. But not all beings were as naive as shaper adepts, who's minds curiosity often lead them to places or conclusions that bordered the line on heresy. Tinuu knew that to make a successful infiltration attempt, he'd need to bring something to the traditionalist?s table that was utterly irresistible. And that was the part where he fell short.

He was one of the extolled, one of the shamed in their eyes, he could offer them little more than any slave or menial worker could!

He fell back against the chamber wall and slumped to the ground lethargically, loosing a sigh of exasperated frustration as he turned his gaze towards the ceiling. Shaah would know what to do, he was the more resourceful one of them and he would never have given up until he had found a means to somehow bring these traditionalists down. He had been a key driving force to stir Tinuu up into a frenzy during the times of the Jeedai heresy.
And himself? He, he knew, would have been the one who would have tried tirelessly to get Shaah to realize, that no one person could bring down a movement alone, he would have told him that was madness...and so was this!

He should tell the Jeedai, let them handle it.

That was it then, he would wait for Shaah to return, explain everything and then when he had they would go to the Jeedai together - as together they were stronger and nothing could -

Realization struck Tinuu harder than any lash from an amphistaff then, that was it! His brother had always provided the answers in the past, and now despite the fact Shaah was not actually here, he provided them again unknowingly. The idea formulating in the depths of the extolled one's fragile mind, was a risky one, but he knew it may well be the only one the traditionalists would accept, and could not refuse.

****

T'arlann Shoolb, after much fussing and irritating questioning asked on the part of the savant, had finally been able to make the priests emissary leave. It was not a moment too soon, he reflected, he was beginning to tire and his already shredded nerves would not hold up much longer. He needed to speak with Yem-Zi, and now.
Running a shaking hand through his lank, sweat-flecked hair, he made certain that the damutek's entrance membrane was sealed shut from the inside once he had dismissed his attendants, then headed towards the far chamber, where he expected to find his cohort, Yem-zi.

Pressing his palm to the sensory nerve bundle that would open the oqa membrane, the old prefect ground his teeth with the effort of containing his anxious anger, he knew that the moment he saw that shamed brenzlit's scarred, melted visage, he may well not be able to hold back his ire. The sensory nodes took a moment to register his touch, before the membrane shivered and then snapped open with a wet 'pop'. Rigid with anger, T'arlann Shoolb strode on heavy-footed strides into the chamber, words of the purest contempt and accusation already forming on his lips. He was stopped dead in his tracks, however, when he realized that the chamber was empty.

Balling his fists in rage, the old prefect paced around the room, eyes searching but distant - Yem-zi had said nothing of leaving, and he could not have been at the grashal, or he would have seen him on his way here! So where was he? T'arlann Shoolb's mind clawed through the possibilities and time and time again came across the same one.
He had to have bailed out on his own plans, the cowardly blhorr had realized, too, that the situation he had created was now too hot to handle and had fled to an unknown location, leaving he, T'arlann Shoolb, to take the blame! He knew all along that he should never have agreed to help that perfidious worm, betrayal was the way of his caste but he had never considered himself naive enough to become a victim of it...that was the worst part of it all, the realization that he had been played for a fool, the shame. Yem-zi had been setting him up all along.

Seething with bitterness and unkempt rage, his vision dissolved into a blur of anger stricken motions as he lashed out with a cry at a nearby gaggle of villips on coral stands, toppling the largest of them all, spilling it onto the ground with a prominently wet squidge. The villip rolled a few feet away, it's own momentum carrying it until it came to rest against the damutek wall. Shaking with the remnants of his rage, the prefect kicked the not-toppled stand with all the force of his remaining ire, snapping it's main stem in two - and he would have done it again if it had not been for the gentle pulsing of the runaway villip catching his eye.

His quaking subsiding, he paused and allowed his heartbeat to slow into a rate in accordance with his curious movements, the brown, leathery blob of a biot - roughly the size of a Yuuzhan Vong head - was silently throbbing where it lay, to indicate an incoming communication.

T'arlann Shoolb padded towards it, as silently as a stalking voxyn, perhaps believing his motions would wake it from a deep slumber - but one could never be to sure that all was not what it seemed. Hooking the toe of his boot beneath the bony ridge of the villip's top-end, he carefully nudged it upright, before bending down and surreptitiously stroking the creature to life.
It everted almost immediately.

"You! You are late!" A gravely growl of a voice snarled, even as the villip struggled to recreate as accurate a picture of the speakers features as possible.

"Late?" T'arlann Shoolb asked, taking care not to stand close enough to the villip as to be seen.

"Do not play innocent with me, perfidious one!" The voice of a heavily scarred Yuuzhan Vong male retorted snappily, "You never arrived at the stated rendezvous point, I trust there is an explanation for your tardiness, other than cowardice?"

T'arlann Shoolb blinked, perplexed, who was this one? He outwardly looked like a warrior, but appearances these days were increasingly deceiving. What would Yem-zi be doing talking to this one? Unless this was yet another surprise he had neglected to inform the old prefect of, his mind could come to little or no logical conclusion.

Clearly noticing the lack of response, the Villip showed clearly, the warrior's suspicious expression, a mere second before he asked,

"Who is this?"

No more rattled than he was surprised, T'arlann Shoolb answered just as icily,

"A friend, I believe."

He could not keep the whole of his ire under wraps forever, Yem-zi had given his word that he would be kept in the loop, and then here he was, conversing with a warrior about a secret meeting that he had no knowledge about.

"You are not the one I spoke with before- why should I trust you, let alone name you friend?" The warrior hissed in question.

The old prefect bristled, rolling his eyes theatrically as he finally chose to step into the villips range of sight - the warrior was far too suspicious of him to be a loyalist, and besides, he had admitted to nothing yet.

"I shall ignore the insult you see fit to bestow upon me, warrior, by stating the obvious." the prefect quipped matter of factly, "As for why? I believe we share a common-" He paused, searching for the correct word, finding it a second later, "-a common problem."

The warrior remained silent, but the villip tilted forwards some, indicating that he had nodded for the prefect to continue speaking. And T'arlann Shoolb, did just that.

"You are, from what I can see, a warrior of the Yuuzhan Vong, one who would have benefited and prospered from our society as it stood before our shameful defeat. Tell me, warrior-"

"-Commander." The warrior's villip interjected angrily, but T'arlann Shoolb continued on, showing no hint of apology, aside from his later correction.

"Commander, do you fear the gods?"

The warrior frowned deeply, perhaps picking over those words in search of a precarious hidden meaning or trick. When his mind failed to locate one, he snarled out his response.

"I fear nothing!"

T'arlann Shoolb smiled broadly, bearing his sharpened teeth,
"Truly? I find that interesting, since you would have heard Warmaster Nas Choka's order for warriors to freely take their own lives over capture at the hands of the infidels upon our defeat. Yet here you are, no doubt enjoying the benefits of your having the shamed ones as your overseers?" That last sentence had been loaded with sarcasm, but he highly doubted that the commander would have taken it all in. They were, in his high opinion, simple souls with simple needs.

When the colour of the Commander's eyesacs had darkened to a shade of rich purple, the prefect continued.

"I put it to you, that you could no more dire dishonoured and disfavoured in the eyes of the gods than you will continue to exist happily, with those who aided in bringing about your downfall." The prefect made a dismissive gesture with one gnarled hand, a gesture the Commander would never see, "Commander, your rage betrays you, you reek of revenge and that is something I, personally know much of."

It was now that the prefect hoped the Commander would be calming, he did not speak and this was indeed a good sign, but T'arlann Shoolb wagered that had the warrior been standing before him, he would have attacked by now. Some form of accord had been reached, and that was good enough for the time being.

"You are one of them too, I see." The warrior said ruefully, "You understand our ways."

"I do." T'arlann Shoolb responded, adding silently to himself, 'More than you know.'

But his thoughts were diverting him, he had a question of his own to ask now. "Where is Yem-zi?"

The warrior regarded him with a perplexed expression, wrinkling his nose ridge in a sign of confused annoyance, "You do not know? He was supposed to meet with us half a planetary cycle ago, but did not arrive at the specified location." He said, incredulous.

The prefect considered this,
"What is your Location?" But at this, the warrior scoffed - so he wasn't 'too' simple then.

Taking that as his cue, the Prefect continued, "When you discover his location, have him contact me, Prefect T'arlann Shoolb, immediately, my personal villip."

The Commander's replicated visage inclined and then tilted back again in a villip's semblance of a nod, "When he is located, if he still lives, then."

With a suckering noise, the villip began to invert now, taking with it the horrible visage of the Yuuzhan Vong Commander, who had chosen to remain nameless, with it. Now completely alone, T'arlann Shoolb approached the group of remaining villips, picking one at random. That Commander may not wish to tell him where Yem-zi was heading and he highly doubted that his message would be passed on, but one way or another, he would find that perfidious mockery of a former intendant.

*****

DOMAIN SKELL WORLDSHIP: 89 Years ago.

The Klekkets that had followed his escalation to the meagre, but prestigious, rank of Executor, had been some of the most profitable of Nom Anor's life. Yuuzhan Vong had no need for currency of sorts, but that was not how he had benefited. For starters, to celebrate his escalation, Nom Anor had gouged out his own left eye with a burning-hot stick of senelak thorns, he had chosen to fill the empty socket with a Poison-spitting plaeryin bol - A move seen as audaciously vain by some, beautifully practical by the Executor himself.

What had come later though-

He turned on his nest bunk, stretching his limbs to ward off the last few ebbs of sleep that coiled around him like unseen tendrils, his remaining cobalt-blue eye taking in the sight of Maliia Skell beside him. Curled up as she was, with little more than a thin cover of glistaweb to hide her form, she looked unaccustomedly peaceful and serene. Nom Anor reflected that this was nothing like the severe tenacious soul he knew her to be when she was awake, this was almost a mockery of that.
He felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips at that thought, it was that same tenacity that had seen her seek him out a few nightcycles ago, and he also knew the deciding factors too - but it didn't seem to bother him too much, nor had it this time.
It was well known for some intendants to claw their way to the top by almost any means necessary, particularly seeking the approval and praises of those who had recently attained rank to do so. They had been friends in their early years, more recent times had seen that friendship stretch to it's very limits and fray at such tension points as, who supported the new Supreme Overlord, Shimrra, and who still agreed with his predecessor, Quoreal, on a number of matters.

Nom Anor was under no illusions as to why Maliia Skell had chosen to come to him when she had, it was no secret - to him at least- that she was indeed a Quorealist, and he was the best chance at moving herself out of the wrong kind of spotlight away from what she saw as the gods disfavour, or rather, Shimrra's iron fist. She gave devotions to Yun-Harla daily, not that Nom Anor thought that would help, but he did not mind, there were after all, obvious 'perks' to their arrangement. Besides, it also served as a means to bind her loyalties to him, she knew well about his dalliances in the shapers arts, something greatly frowned upon in their society.

However, this morning cycle, he was not in the mood for idle conversation, he had been summoned by high Prefect Yoog Skell himself, to discuss matters concerning a recent development in the unknown galaxy that the fleet's scouts had discovered years before. Carefully, he pulled himself up and out of his nestbunk, swinging his legs over the side, before rising to recover a fresh robeskin that was hanging from a coral peg on the wall.

Risking a cursory glance over his shoulder, he saw Maliia Skell stir and roll over to take the space he had occupied moments before. Dressed, he wasted no further time on observation or thought, and vacated the chamber as silently as possible.

*****

Zonama Sekot: Present Day.

He had abandoned the airship a fair distance away from the settlement, choosing to notify the correct officials of it's whereabouts. Gaining entry to the settlement as soon as the message was relayed from the warriors, who had been sent out to check the airship, to the ferroans who were keeping watch over the settlements entry points, hadn't been as hard as Nom Anor had expected it to be. They had checked his credentials via means of lumpen - a small furry ball of a creature that excreted information through it's droppings - of course, but it was one that Nom Anor had procured from the airship in the small sleeping shelter used by it's shamed occupant. This, too, had been a stroke of insurmountable luck, but it was not going to be long before someone came looking for him, once the murdered shamed one was found, or once he was missed.

He was, Nom Anor noted, a lot later than planned, but he had concealed upon his person, a small villip with which to contact the one he wished to meet with, and he had made contact with them during the later half of his journey. All he had to do was locate the meeting point fast, but cautiously.

But something had been nagging at the former prefect's mind all the while. There had been something in the way that his contact had spoken, that had bristled his well-attuned intuition. He wasn't entirely sure he was not going to regret this mission as a result, but it was, perhaps, curiosity that had kept him going. Having re-procured a Plaeryin bol for his empty eye-socket would have been extra security, he thought idly, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and he was clutching at proverbial i'fii spines here.

***

Finding the remote location - a small rocky cave-like dwelling, almost certainly unlived in for decades - had been easy enough. It was situated at the near-end of a large sprawling plateau, covered with tampasi grass on a level with the settlement as some form of expansion region. It wouldn't be overlooked, which was ideal.

Nom Anor made himself comfortable while he waited for his 'acquaintance' to arrive, he wasn't as well armed as he would have liked to be, and his fight with the bissop hound had taken quite a bit out of him...he was getting too old for this, he thought idly, but who else was going to raise him in terms of status, if not himself?
Soon enough, he heard someone approaching the caves entrance, long strides swooshing the tampasi rhythmically as they grew closer. Tensing, the former prefect reached for the coufee he held secreted upon his person, eyes narrowed as if to gain better perspective in the dull light of this modest dwelling. Another rustle of the plantlife, that draped the cave entrance in natural camouflage, accompanied by the unmistakable and intimidating sound of an amphistaff's incessant hissing and then the brief flare of a lambent light, revealed to Nom Anor through squinted vision, the tattered, mutilated visage of a Yuuzhan Vong warrior - Commander Niv Lah.

Worn upon the Commander's features was an expression of muted disdain, he clearly thought he was conspiring with a shamed one, and Nom Anor knew well how that could make one feel, but this was a better arrangement than Niv Lah finding out who he was truly conspiring with.

"I had thought you too cowardly to come." The Commander growled, apparently irritated by Nom Anor's tardiness.

Nom Anor inclined his marred forehead some, "Greetings to you also, Commander."

Niv Lah issued a less than impressed sounding grunt, but did not comment on Nom Anor's very un-Yuuzhan Vong brand of sarcasm. Instead he gestured to the former prefect with one hand, the head of the amphistaff he carried sissing wildly in anticipation at his wrist.

"Speak and inform me, I have not long before I am missed." Niv Lah said, and Nom Anor nodded in agreement.

"Have you gathered your warriors?" He asked in question to a previously discussed plan of action.

"I have. Many showed promise, I have placed a handful in every work detail as you suggested, when the time comes, the inexperienced shamed will be overwhelmed." Niv Lah explained reverently, a certain fire burning brightly in his otherwise obsidian eyes.

Nom Anor drummed the fingers of his remaining hand against the stump of his lost one, pensively.

"Excellent, and you have instructed them to spread the word among the loyal and trustworthy in other settlements?" He asked with a flourish.

"I have," Niv Lah replied proudly, drawing himself up to full imposing height, near dwarfing the average sized faux shamed one before him. "they merely await orders."

Nom Anor let a sly smile twist his melted features, "I spoke with the shapers, a delivery of the appropriate resources will be arriving soon, it should be deposited in the scorched southern regions." He paused to study the Commander for a moment, he still had more to say, but was holding back, but why?

"The shapers will be working there under the false pretence that they are finding a means to restore life to the damaged hemisphere. "Your warriors task is to keep those loyal to Sekot away, or as unaware as possible of their true intentions." The former prefect finished.

Niv Lah bared his teeth, he did not like not knowing why he was being instructed to do this, he still didn't trust this shamed brenzlit look-alike, not as far as he could throw him.

"And what, exactly, are the shapers shaping if not the regeneration of the southern hemisphere?" He growled dangerously.

Nom Anor reached to grip the hilt of his hidden coufee again, he would have to explain sooner or later, but if Nov Lah was keeping something from him, he would be forced to kill him here and now, thus slowing his plans down considerably. He would take a risk then.

"A ship, fearsome one," He offered carefully, "The scorched land is barren, but the shaper I am in contact with informs me that with a little aid, the earth could become rich with nutrients in a matter of a klekket. Nutrients and conditions ideal for growing new vessels."

Niv Lah looked confused, perhaps a little incredulous with it,

"Why not utilize a sekotan vessel? Are there not plenty where your shamed self comes from?" He tried to provoke aggressively.

Nom Anor laughed, belaying his growing urge to jam this coufee hard into the warrior's throat for that insult, he really should not have expected any less from the seasoned Commander, his caste famously disliked the one Nom Anor hailed from, it stood to reason he'd bristle at some things spoken by this one.

"Commander, the sekotan vessels respond directly to Sekot herself, we would not make it out of Zonama's atmosphere before the world's consciousness would divert us to ground." He explained diligently.

Thankfully, this time, the warrior seemed satisfied and relaxed some. After a brief moment of consideration, he nodded his massive head.

"It will be done, for the glory of the Yuuzhan Vong!" He boomed.

The former prefect let a grin spread his mouth wide, "I will, of course, contact you when more of our plans come to fruition," He said.

Niv Lah responded with a sharp salute and then he began to retreat from the cave, but paused just short of the entrance. This, Nom Anor thought, was what he had been waiting for.

"I received a message via villip before your arrival, it was for you." The massive warrior intoned warily.

"Go on," Nom Anor prompted, not allowing himself to appear swayed in any manner by the revelation.

"It was from Prefect T'arlann Shoolb, he wished to converse with you immediately. If he is a threat, I can have him killed appropriately." The warrior finished.

'And that means that I do not yet have to have you killed appropriately.' Nom Anor thought inwardly at Niv Lah,

"That will not be necessary, fearsome one. He is one of us, allow me to deal with him personally." He said aloud.

Niv Lah nodded once, curtly and then ducked out of the shelter into the sekotan weather beyond.
When he was certain the warrior was gone, Nom Anor relaxed noticeably, he still had work to do here at this settlement, still had one more visit to make, but T'arlann Shoolb was proving himself to be a jittery old fool, and Nom Anor could not afford to have that effect his plans.
Discovery, he knew, was never an option.

TBC in Chapter 15.