'Watson. Strange name to give me… it's amazing that beings without pheromone control can even communicate at all.' The scorpionman thought while he sat in the office of the town constable. His claws clicked along with his steady paced thoughts while the anakore chattered pointlessly about promises that Watson did not trust the Devor to keep.
'We're a stinger in their side and always have been, nothing I do will change that, even this 'favor'.' He told himself, his stinger was lowered to show he had no hostile intent toward the beastman in front of him, but the truth was it roiled in his gut to even speak to the adversarial empire's representative.
How long the anakore droned on, tapping its claws against the chipped up stone desk, his steady deep monotone full of what were almost certainly mostly lies about the harmony between their two peoples… Watson lost track. 'They probably will pay us a bounty, a reward of some sort for turning over the 'spies' but not much more.'
The droning went on until the alarm went up. The alarm began with a rumbling beneath the ground. "A world shake?" Watson asked, but the constable stood stock still.
His sensitive feet told him something else was amiss, he held up the cut clawed hand and whispered, "Shhhh…" And listened with his feet, his toes crinkled as the rumbling went on and on.
Screams began and died in the same moment, the vibrations of their last moments thrummed like taut strings plucked just a little too hard, the vibration was different. 'What is it… what is it…?' He wondered as he stepped out from behind his desk and went to the door, Watson turned and followed, his many legs tapping on the floor.
The sky began to rain stone only a moment later. "What th-" The constable shouted as he saw the burst of red shoot out of the building, departing the area with such force that it pulled the stones free, shattered them, and scattered the remaining pebbles down below to ping and thud on the world below. A sea of red moved serpent-like through the air, flying toward the wall of the town and vanishing out of view.
"What did you bring to our land?!" The constable shouted and pointed at the retreating red wave.
"I-I don't know." Watson answered, his claws ceased to click and he stared at the vanishing wave of red until it disappeared beyond the wall. "I've never seen anything of that sort."
"I have. Something like that. Or heard of it at least." The constable answered. A low rumble, almost a roar but buried in his belly, began and went on as he thought of how to say it.
"Sanguimancy. Blood magic. Though to that scale? To become blood? No. Not that." The constable shivered, "Years ago I was stationed in the south, at an embassy, and a birdman raved about the empire to the west, mad stuff. Of blood magic and undead monsters, of dragon mail carriers and warriors touched with divine blood who could tear apart trees as mere toddlers. Mad things, but the forms of magic that were spoken of included something… like that. I thought he was insane, that he'd gone mad, but if a sanguimancer could become blood itself and shatter stone into pebbles?"
He let out a heavy breath and added, "Maybe they weren't all mad stories after all… you captured those two?" The constable asked.
"They surrendered without a fight." Watson lied.
"You were used." The constable grunted, "Arachnids… so suspicious and yet so naive." His prejudice came out and was capped off with a grunt. Watson remained silent while the constable reached over and rang a bell by the door, calling the guard, more bells rang out as the signal spread, calling all the town guards together at their central location.
"Undead?" Watson asked with reticence that kept his claws stiff and still and had his tail rising on high alert.
"Yes. The Western Empire… so I have heard, is one of necromancy and undeath. Only a mad fool dabbles in such things… more proof that the cattle are fools that need us to manage their numbers, the stink of their blasphemy only grows with passing years." The constable's limp tail went stiff, the bells ceased to ring and the number of soldiers outside of his headquarters began to grow.
"Then what do you do?" The scorpionman asked.
"I'll tell you what you do!" Ratata'tan squealed as he came into view, his ears twitching and pink tail lashing, his slender pink hand shaking while it pointed at the constable. "You get out there and check on our… project! The creature is definitely a vampire and he revealed things we have to investigate! Wherever that thing has gone, it's gone, gone along with the trash bug. We have bigger matters to attend to!"
The constable grunted, "We should secure the town, the ones we have outside the town are strong, skilled, they will not die easy. If it comes back, we must be prepared."
The ratman squeaked in a pitch high enough to be a scream, "Get something out there to check! Even if it is just a patrol!"
The constable's mouth remained open for a moment, his uncut claws up as if to argue a point, but Ratata'tan was quick to add, "There's a chance they'll see it coming if it does head back this way!"
That was argument enough for the constable. "I will send out a champion and a few escorts for him. More than that, I protest."
The ratman's head bobbed up and down like an amenable bird, "Good, that'll do."
"As for you, arachnid," the constable turned his attention to the scorpionman, "you go back to your people, tell them we will consider your contribution in turning over the spies."
"I will tell all that I have seen, and tell your words to Chasm Father and Web Mother. What they do with that, I do not know." Watson said, his claws beginning to click when the constable pointed toward the door.
"You may leave with the patrol and go home." The constable rumbled, and Watson stepped outside to wait for his escort. 'I will leave, but not go far. They have questions to answer… and promises to keep. Also,' the scorpionman told himself, 'something says to me that there is more to know, not far from here.'
And when the towering anakore looked down at the scorpionman that was not half his size and said, "Walk, insect." Watson didn't hesitate to fall in behind the squad of six, though he kept his thoughts tightly concealed as his steps carried him out the way he'd come.