SON OF SLAUGHTER

“Hm,” HE MUSES OPENLY. “No wonder you find yourself here again.” The lure of Apocrypha was difficult to ignore. A siren call; forbidden secrets waiting for those clever or determined enough to find it. For many, this could be utopia, but anywhere becomes hell if you are stuck there long enough. He loathed to be so stagnant; for all his knowledge, there is nowhere to use it.

“Naturally. I would not be here if I wasn't.” It was strange to meet the same individual twice here. That this one has returned once, twice, and thrice is... Interesting.

" The gods do not provide easy answers. Or, escapes. Defying one is an act beyond the will of most mortals. No, typically it takes an equally powerful force to pry loose the grip of a god."

You're going to see a much bigger, much more comprehensive version of this later but for now?

There are larger tunnels, most are, but sentinels can get through those. To get STUCK, so badly to need digging out, means the architect is completely unfamiliar with the rat’s lands, and followed a promising tunnel too far.

The unlucky omega to find him nearly faints. “You- you’re a- are y-!” So many questions, none come out coherent. She is not thinking of laughing. Gordon would be fighting for his life not to but she is not so brave. The little doe instinctively puts a hand over her throat and takes several steps back, fur standing on end and tail between her legs… She doesn’t answer him. Only turns and runs for her life. Her even less bold companions waiting farther away cry out in relief when she makes it back, and they all flee together.

Kha’xanzyr will have an hour or so to sit and think about his special awareness before he hears the sentinels, their claws and teeth carve away stone like chalk, more omegas move the loosed rock out of the way on carts. Their smallest sentinel is the first to widen the tunnel enough for himself to come get a look at the trapped Demon, far ahead of the rest. He keeps a good twenty feet of distance, but he clicks low in his throat, sending the low frequency through rock, flesh, and bone to get a proper scope of his size and how much they can safely dig through the rock holding him… He doesn’t speak to Kha’xanzyr, just moves back to relay what he heard and continue the excavation. Digging a forty foot tunnel in a hexagon twenty feet on all sides takes under an hour for a team of twelve sentinels. The hardest part is digging the unprepared spelunker out at the end… Ducky is brave enough to come forward and get to it himself, and his rider, finally making an appearance, uses his smaller claws to chip away closer to skin without clawing the demon with an unnecessary gesture of care.

No, he would not embarass himself unless he absolutely had to. And before an audience of mortals no less!

He cycles through various emotions in the hour he is left alone, the satisfaction of scaring the doe-Retchen quickly bleeding out back into irritation. There was no audience now, but could he risk a cave-in? That'd made the situation even more sticky.

Khade damn it all.

Finally, help arrives. Kha'xanzyr is not grateful, several times snarling at them to 'hurry up' and to keep their hairless, wormlike tails to themselves. Whatever affinity for these creatures Khazaan had, the Architect clearly had far less.

Usual? So he frequents this place. The Daemon thinks to himself with a scowl. Of course. It was so like Khazaan to keep the company of lesser things.

" That very same 'red bull'. Orange, if we're being clear." Rumbled Kha'xanzyr. " Where is he? What business has he here that he has abandoned his post?"

"First of all, I did not assume you a wild or domesticated creature! I said I've never seen anyone like you." They state plainly before continuing, "I thought you a warrior god or daemon of some kind, and it doesn't seem like I was too far off the mark... however!"

" You are correct on one account: Daemon. My father is the strongest of all deities."

" And your realm. Your reality, with it's flesh and it's rules; it is just the board upon which we daemons play our endless game. There are countless; I know not from which you hail, nor do I care. All end the same way. Death, blood. All souls eventually find their way into the clutches of the gods, including your own, animal-healer."

Mansplains the most factually incorrect dogshit take to someone who has experienced/studied the subject.

After sitting on the Skull Throne for who knows how long, you can't blame the Blood God for gettin' up and having a good long stretch~