Nodding once to Castablane, Kryx strode toward the smaller human...a woman by his guess. Not terribly familiar with human anatomy, the light notes of her voice suggested feminine qualities...and when she asked for help, he could scarce deny it. In his tribe of Mossdeep in the arms of Jalgarus, women were second only to the elders...the god sighted. Besides them, gibbering prophecies of monsoon seasons aside, the female Lizard Folk led the tribes of the swamp with iron fists. Blessed with the gift of Rebirth, the souls of the fallen would be reborn in the form of young who would be raised to fight and fall again. Revered for their wisdom, none questioned the orders of his Nestmother nor the Nestwarden. Perhaps human culture deviated from the almost strictly matriarchal society Kryx had been raised within, but he could not ignore the request of a female, no matter the danger.
No...it was not danger he feared. Kryx had made his peace with the Fate of Mossdeep...the unfortunate legacy of his father and father's father all falling beyond the familiar mangrove trees that lined their nest ground. He would die far from home as well, as it was the Mossdeep way to champion the pride of their people beyond the touch of Jalgarus.
"I shall assist you," Kryx answered the woman solemnly, hefting his almost ludicrously sized battleaxe out to rest on his shoulder. Torchlight glimmered harshly off his scarred hide and to a human, Kryx's expression was one like any other he had expressed. But he stared ahead with a stalwart determination born of responsibility...and honor.
"What would you have me do Life-Giver?"
It was the sound of a crossbow being fired, that heavy, shattering thump as it pierced wood that alerted Kryx that there may still be pockets of resistance hidden in this human fort.
Hefting his axe, Kryx strafed around Darius and Sales as he entered the room, bringing his axe to bear as his unblinking eyes drank the dark room. He had to side step a body lying prone a little ways into the doorway, blood seeping from the crossbow quarrel in his chest. Looking up for signs of the attacker, Kryx saw nothing in the murky room.
The bolt came from the left, cutting from the shadows to glance Kryx's shoulder. Hitting his rigid scales, the bolt bounced upwards, burying itself in the ceiling.
Whirling around, Kryx roared and brandished his axe...truly a frightening sight to behold...leave it to the softskin to lie in ambush while his companions died...no honor...no glory.
No mercy for cowards.
The crossbowman fell backwards, scrambling to reload the bow as he stared into the merciless yellow eyes of the once captive lizard man...Bringing the hefty axe up over his head, Kryx brought the blade down into the mans shoulder, cutting through bone and flesh midway through his torso before tearing the blade out in a spray of gore.
The soldier had died before the cut had finished.
Turning back toward the door, Kryx hoisted the axe on his shoulder once more...offering a silent prayer to Jalgarus to feast upon the soul of this softskin for his cowardice and crime against the Mossdeep people...a terrible fate, surely...but one Kryx felt the soldier deserved.
Pausing by the body at the door, Kryx took one leg and dragged the body of Tong from the forge...laying it on the outside ground almost reverently. This was no soldier...but likely an ill fated adventurer from this impromptu tribe.
He would at least lay in the light...that his soul might not be obstructed in its drift to paradise.
