In the young city of Kubri, the night watch was posted. They were the first place to build as a cooperation between the Marga and the Mummy Lords, causing many to shudder whenever a member of the other race approached.

  The Mummies send the sunburnt, people that worked for them in exchange for one day becoming a mummy.

  If the Marga and the Mummies trusted one another, this would not have been a problem, but given the almost immortal nature of both parties and the comparably short existence of the city, both sides had guards posted, and in this fatefull night, Ixsasz had been assigned his first night watch. He had always wondered what his crimson red shell would help him achieve, his enhanced durability and affinity for blood magic had guided him on the path of a knight, his pettyness and curiosity had gotten him expelled from the capital. He had been told it was because his talents were needed on the border, though everyone knew it was his punishment.

  He took it in stride anyway, as the least mobile of his clutch. He was happy to have a task geared towards defending at all.

  Thus, the young marga immediately announced the arrival of something dark, a shadow deeper than the night itself moved towards them, and the sound of rock grinding on rock only worsened the strange monstrosities approach.

  "Everyone, a Curse coming in from the south east, heading directly for the city." He announced, the others laughing it off.

  "We all want to be special on our first night out here, but I don't see anything, and if it was a curse, it wouldn't produce sound. This is probably a drone or something."

  The guard captain explained, the others readying the ballista on their side of the wall. To drive off the lost construct.

  Only when the tide of black broke into the light did they stop making fun of it, the sickly sweet stench of decay wafting from the mass. Just when they tried to organise themselves, the creature began buzzing. Nobody saw it as they adjusted their frills frequency to one that managed to travel through air as intended, where everyone followed Jeolas as he projected. "We come in peace" in every language he knew, with one of the guards perking up when he talked in Njord.

  "I've heard that language in the Nord. It's an accent of what those damned born of snow speak, tell me, beast, what do you have to do with these vermin?"

  The other Larv joined in as Joelas answered, a buzzing chorus of voices joining together as pne to project their intentions through the unfamiliar medium, an approximate translation brought to them by the contracts bond and the aura of Royalty.

  "We are the Larv, and have come to cleanse the worl of the old gods. We speek the language of the Njord, the sworn enemies of those born of snow, a language they copied to build their own language from. We currently need a place to rest for the night and some food to help us on our quest to destroy this ancient enemy of ours."

  The elderly Marga conveyed their intention, with the guard captain nodding.

  "We need to talk to the leaders. There's no way we are letting a crusading army rest here without announcing that to our lords. Is it any problem for you that some of us are undead?"

  He asked, the question one Joelas was prepared to answer as he gestured to the scorpions beneath them.

  "These used to be undead too, and although we prefer to turn undead into golems, we don't have any prejudices against the undead themself. We are just more of an efficiency focussed folk."

  Thus, a messenger was dispatched to announce what was happening in front of the gate.

  As they waited, some of the sunburnt noticed the army and gathering to inspect what seemed like a ginormous structure of living shadow.

  "Why are they even considering letting them in? The city is already unstable enough, given the lack of trust the scorps show towards us for what? A thousand years of constant war?"

  The slap he received for his insolence was immediate.

  "Remember that our glorious empires need to work together to kill those land stealing bastards of the north. "

  The overwhelming agreement around him made the guard shut up, his head still hurting as he failed to propagate his masters interest. He knew that these snakes around him hoped for everything do develop, though they would end up fighting one another over silly things and their lords attention as soon as they somewhat achieved the tasks entrusted to each of them.

  The Marga knew it was dangerous to even talk to the creatures that the desert nights could produce. Different from their necromantic allies, they could not put anti vitality anchors everywhere. And thus, they had specifically trained guards tasked with uncovering the true identity of whatever it was they were confronted with.

  "We will return once you ring the bells three times, as it eill be the sign that someone capable of negotiations is here."

  And thus, every guard shuddered. The Larv retreated as one, and Jeolas slowly released his firm hold on the contract skill, looking around as he assessed the results.

  What the guards saw as retreating shadows and the sudden beginning of hive like humming was the mucus covered creatures discussion on their plan. Most were pleased when they noticed their progress in learning Margan and Njord from the translations only. Most of them had now three Languages listed on their character sheets.

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