Destorianaxe had a short rest, the dreams of her birth cave woke her from the bliss of slumber after but a few hours. In the darkness of the lair, time seemed to have little meaning, with no sun or moon to see it was the activity of the others that told her what time of day it was. Currently, the lair was dark. Typically torches lit up a corner of her lair where Talian had stowed a bedroll and some personal effects, currently it looked as if the elf was meditating atop it.
Turning her head, Stares at Skies Vast was cleaning up the floor. With a dingy bit of hide and water she was scrubbing at the blood that had fallen from the dragons wounds. Nestled in a clump if furs were her eggs, the three leathery tear drop shaped eggs were carefully trapped in warmth and safe from being jostled. The kobold had her own little living area but Destorianaxe rarely saw her use it, the kobold seemed filled with endless energy.
If she wasn't cleaning up after her rather slob like Goddess she was working the walls of the lair, smoothing and detailing the lower edge line she could reach. Typically the kobold was scratching pictures into the stone using a stone chisel. Destorianaxe suspected the elf had helped her make the thing as the stone seemed harder than it should be, the kobold had yet to crack it off against the cave walls. Squinting in the low light, Destorianaxe noted that Stares at Skies Vast was etching the likeness of the griffin into her latest section of wall, it looked like the start of a two piece mural that likely would see a crude dragon fighting the bird headed lion.
Trying to rise, a pained hiss escaped her muzzle. Glancing back at her self Destorianaxe could only sigh at the sad state of her body. Those beasts had truly torn her up. Wincing in pain, she limped towards the pit that was her former waste hole. Carefully laying by the edge she leaned over to listen. While the soft scrape of hide against stone continued behind her, Destorianaxe was more focused on the whisper of chants from the place below, it had honestly been awhile since she checked on the tribe, Destorianaxe was wondering what they were up to now?
Sighing as she eyed the smooth walls of the pit she could only dream of climbing down. Much like flying, her ability to maintain her strength for such a feat was currently non existent. Were she to try she could well see herself falling breaking her neck and being the greatest offering to the blood pool temple. How ironic would that be? Butchered by her faithful who had no clue she was their Goddess? As it was, if her dead body fell out of the hole it would be treated no different than the deer or boars she had dropped on occasion.
Leaning her head over the edge she listened to the distant chanting, relaxing as she heard familiar prayers and desires. Of the latter there were always plenty. Destorianaxe held no illusions of her "clergy" to a kobold each batch had been greedy manipulative tyrants. It did not shock her at all, to be honest most of the shamans had maintained a death grip on the tribe through false commandments from their goddess. She had at one point thought of revealing her followers corruption to the tribe but had soon began to wonder if she were taking her false divinity too seriously? Was it her place, really, to educate these savages?
Glancing back to where Stares at Skies Vast was stretching a bit, Destorianaxe had to wonder. Could the tribe be all her companion was and more? But how long before that corruption reared its ugly head again? She couldn't watch them for all time, not only was it physically impossible she equally rejected the thought mentally. She had her own goals, or well, dreams... those did not include babysitting a bunch of savages for the rest of eternity.
Laying over the edge with her neck hanging down she focused on the low chants from the shamans below, her yellow eyes narrowing as the whisper reached her ears. They were beseeching their goddess for a sign, beast like warriors were infiltrating the forest and they begged the God of Bones to bless this the eve of their war ceremony. To bestow favor upon their warriors who would strike out in a night's time to banish these savage monster men from their territory...
Destorianaxe listened, almost wishing she could drop a carcass... wait. Glancing around she spotted something that should roll down quite easily. Wether they would take it as a blessing or damnation they would have to pick for themselves. Limping over to where Stares at Skies Vast did much of her butchering the black dragon snatched up the griffin head that the kobold had been trying to turn into a trophy. Destorianaxe appreciated the effort but the head was starting to get a touch... ripe. Maneuvering it to the hole she lifted it up and tossed the grim and smelly head into the hole.
Glancing back, Destorianaxe noted a rather aggrieved looking kobold watching her. Lowering her head, she did feel a touch sorry she had just chucked Stares at Skies Vast's hard work down to her tribe but she would certainly understand that on the cusp of a tribe war showing them favor was a necessary act right? Glancing back she saw her kobold companion abandoning her cleaning and curling up with her eggs dejected and sad. Destorianaxe groaned inside, she'd have to hunt something impressive for her to show off her creativity in future....
* * * * * * *
Below the blood temple was full, the entire tribe had attended the ceremony. The great God of Bone had been absent for a little while now, the shamans and keepers were worried that the tribe had offended their diety. With war but a day away they had convened a great gathering. They had sacrificed warriors, breeders, cattle, even a youngling had been given to the pool to tempt their great god back from its silence. The chief was looking at the high priest with a death stare, after all it had been his family that had footed the bill this ceremony. His first born son, his third born daughter, one of her newly hatched eggs and one if their precious war wolves had all met a final end under the high priest's bone knife.
Were the god to ignore all this... the high shaman would find his own head in the pool shortly after the ceremony had ended. The trembling kobold who screamed for his god to answer the pleas was almost ready to fall off the altar, so terrified of his chief's rage was he, that he almost toppled annyways when a large spherical shadow barreled out of the darkness above, crashing into the blood pool like a meteorite sending a wave of blood and gore over the trembling kobold.
The congregation fell silent as a blood kobold stood atop the altar looking thoroughly wretched. All eyes fell on the pool and the shaman screeched, "The great god has spoken! It blesses war with fierceness!"
Those eyes blinked as the beastial head bobbed in the bloody pool. The griffins beaked face was beat up in the fall. An eye hung out of its socket and the beak itself was open in a silent pained cry. This was a great sign! The God of Bone blessed the war on these beastial savages! The high priest danced around wildly as the keeper released a pent up breath he had been holding. Glancing to the chief he felt no more at ease though. Despite this "blessing" the chief still stared murder at the bloody shaman.
After all could not the fact the blood of his offspring being thrown from the pool to paint their killer not also be a sign that the great god approved his private musings that it was time for this foul cult to finally meet its long overdue end? The keeper watched the dark stare in his chief's eyes with worry, would he too soon be cast down? In this up coming war he would need great accomplishments to avoid the purge he could well see coming, the high shaman had gone too far taking all the sacrifices from the chief's family...
Above, a pained dragon laid limply by the hole listening to the whoops and cheers of the kobolds, unknowing of the great upheaval facing the tribe in the coming days.
It was the very next night when the tribe emptied out of the cave, save for a few guards to watch over the females and young. Chief, shaman, keeper, hunters and warriors and charged out into the forest under the silent gaze of a full moon, running east to meet the invading beast men in a bloody conflict. In the history of the tribe after that night it would be said that the tribe suffered its greatest losses in years. Despite some forty kobolds charging out under the moon... less than one in three returned to the tribe. The bone tribe suffered a catastrophic defeat, their small tribe was ambushed by the panther headed man things.
Those that returned to the tribe were those that had followed the chief in betraying the tribe.
The loss of his heirs had enraged the chieftain, the day after the ceremony his messengers had sent an envoy to the invaders alerting them to the coming attack. He didn't care if the tribe was enslaved or slain, he wanted the murderer of his kin, he wanted to personally slaughter the high priest. So it came to pass that the last victim if the blood pool was the high shaman himself. The chieftain had staked the screaming kobold across the altar and tortured him in a profane ritual to offend the bone god. Even as the shattered and torn body of the high priest gasped its last breaths, the chieftain slit his own throat at the door of the temple.
This in itself was a signal. The tribe had already been taken, those that resisted were slain, the rest were taken as slaves. The chieftains suicide triggered the pantherfolk to enter the temple and began tearing it apart. No stone nor bone was left in place. It was on the third day that the temple of the bone god ceased to exist. In fact, the tribe of bone ceased to exist, their ancestral home was put to the torch and the few remaining males as well as all the females were shipped back east.
Only the broken body of the high shaman and the dead body of the chieftain remained in the dark, brutalized room to be forgotten by time.