Answers will be found at the end of this harsh light of day. As my chest burns and the Gods decree, the truth will come to light, or the darkness will suffer for its secrets. Right now, Kitana is suspect, but it is not like her to work with the Kytinn, of that, I will give to Jade.
Who, if not Kitana?
My men, the ones that had survived, are all Osh-Tekk painted and pained, but they are not Osh-Tekk. By the pillars of strength that turn the ground to shadow in light of the weakened warriors, they will never be Osh-Tekk, but these are men I trust to take to battle.
"Gather round!" It's easy to command men that wish to follow, but these men are as much warriors as Shao Kahn was. It's good to have them, and it'll be better to discover the truth with their swords at the ready. "We will have our vengeance against the Kytinn assassin, and who ever sent them, but we must tread carefully to discover who sent them. I suspect our very Kahn."
"Words of treason." One spoke out, but not in disrespect. That would mean death.
"That is why we must be sure." A few steps over the ridge we could see the much of the Centaur Hills beyond us. As the sun began to peak over the horizon, to glare down at the Centaurian camp much as we did, the strength to plan our next move bared across my chest and its seeds grown within my mind. "I will take two of you and we will venture through the hills to the Centaurian holdfast. We must find out everything we can, for though we had planned a surprise attack on Motaro, it is possible with the list of enemies growing that they already knew."
With a stern glance and nod, I had chosen my two, the most trusted and the strongest of this tighter group. The Centaurs were most active at this hour, and though they are big, they are fast. The body of a man on across the shoulders of a horse granted them opposable thumbs and language, but most of all, carnivorous maws. They were not to be trifled with and would be vigilant.
As night fell again over the camp, several of the tents now filled with the bodies we had begun to prepare rituals for, I took my leave with the two best men of them and descended down to the vast sea of hills.
Blades of grass as sharp as the knifes we tucked at our side, and the spikes on Motaro's tail. The trek was rough, and we travelled slow to maintain secrecy. If our own camp could not detect us, then neither could the Centaurs.
Osh-Tekk was a beautiful realm for a warrior. Covered in blood and pride, but I will admit that to see Outworld at night was second only to that. Still, I prefer a world of eternal sunlight so that we may bathe in the power of the sun. This mission could see no battle at night, for though Osh-Tekk are strong, I am not at my full strength until the sun rises.
The long grass rose and declined over the hills and stretched out to Motaro's keep. There, the Centaurs would be vast, and his best warriors, just as mine were, at his side. We did not plan to enter the keep from the front. This cannot be a bold mission.
One of my men touched my chest, to hold me back from my next step as he reached out to point toward something that I had not caught. The strength of Centaurs is incredible. It took only one to throw the trash out, which could be whole stones, or in this case, bodies. It looked as though, from the distance we maintained, that this centaur had the duty of disposing the dead prisoners. This might be the best way in.
We moved again, each step silent, slow, but sure. The closer we came, the bigger the structure seemed. The strength of Centaurs build a stone holdfast that not even Onaga would be able to breakthrough alone. However, it was not tall. For a horse to fall, it could mean the end of that animal, imagine that for a Centaur. A wonderful sight it would be, but we mustn't be so bold.
Around a few corners, a sentry above us with his eyes to the plains and hills, there was plenty of room to hide in the tall grass that their bodies towered over. The entry on the opposite side of the keep we crossed, we would be in the clear, but knew that there would always be someone watching.
The centaur we had spotted dropped the last body, covered in a shredded black cloth and let it fall from the pyramid like mound of flesh and rubble. He entered the keep through a large portal door that sealed behind him with what sounded like a stone block to lock themselves in. No one would get out from that exit, but it also meant we could not get in.
Roughly a yard out the bodies, old and new peaked our interest. It was decided, with a glance and a nod, between the three of us that one would check the rubble before collectors would come to dispose of the trash, and burn the bodies at a far away pyre. I chose to move forward, but my headdress would need to be removed.
Adorned in green paint and feathers to mask myself in the long grass and greenery of the Centaur Hills, it has been a great aid to this point to camouflage, but the mound of filth was in a small barren circle of dirt. My flesh, dark and, but painted in greens and white would expose myself to any onlooker. Above, only one centaur was stations roughly three stories above us in a tower that connected along the walls of the holdfast, but more importantly, it the keep had no machicolations. This was vital to moving forward undetected.
Having surveyed this poor choice of infrastructure, it would be safer for me to reach the bodies, but not to linger too long. With no eyes to pear between the cracks of the structure's wall, typically where defenders would shoot their arrows at attackers, I used the wall as protection and began forward.
My two Osh-Tekk stayed behind, crouched low in position and weapons at the ready to strike. They stood by the door, one on each side, though the portal opened outward, that would be both a benefit to mask ourselves, but also a detriment. I would be completely open to any attack from a Centaur that rushed forward before my men could round the corner and strike, but the creature would not see them, should I be able to clear the way first.
With our Gods watching, I steered my direction straight ahead until I could see the formations beneath burial rags. There were stones carved and fallen from previous battles, or broken structures with normal wear and tear, but it was the bodies I was interested in. Would I find Edenian corpses? Outworlders? Rivals, allies, or wanderers unlucky to stumble into Motaro's territory? This was not the main fortress of the Centaurs, but we knew this was where Motaro would be as he travelled to his castle east of the hills. If we were caught, we'd be at his mercy, and the centaurs are not known for it.
The bottom string of bodies were crushed by wood, stone, and trash. They would not be worth my time to sift through, but one did catch my eye. The top, it had fallen down the side, away from the keep, but it meant I'd be further out and possibly easier to spot from the sentry above. The burial cloth was just rags, perhaps the blanket of the poor that have decorated the floors or stables of their human captives, but beneath, a female form revealed itself to be most interesting.
By the Gods grace I was able to sneak past and round foul, odorous corner of this pile and crouch low enough to remain hidden so that I may inspect further. Having pulled the dung stained cloth from her body, what interested me when they had thrown her onto the pile became clearer now that I could look into her eyes. Reptilian. Zaterran. She wore rags for clothing, but one might have been able to wash them and see the grey and block colors beneath the dung and blood. Her chest flatted out into a more reptillian and scaled flesh like an alligator found in Earthrealm. Her eyes were grey, dead, and focused only on a single point many miles beyond her reach. May the heaven's take her, for I will not, but what frightened me about this Zaterran, was how she may have died.
It is clear by the inspection, having run my hands along her arms, having felt the lack of muscle, fat, and health within her now withered body, that she had been captive for years for reptiles do not starve easily. Her neck had sunken in to show the bare thin muscle and bone, the wiry cast of her jaw, the conical teeth that hid beneath now dried worm-like lips. Though she was starved, and most likely tortured, it was not hunger and enslavement that killed this rare beast.
"Soul Magic." Spoken beneath my breath, for I have seen dead like her before, not in her kind, but many, many others. Someone had stolen her soul.
CRACK!
SLAM!
The sound of stone on dirt being scraped against word and metal. The wooden doors, taller and wider even than Goro began to scrape the ground as they parted. I could see the brown and black of the hooves and horse-like body of the centaur between the widened crack of those doors. With no chance of flight, I had to remain low. The only option, attack at first sight, or use the burial cloth to disguise myself.
My men, unable to see me, unable to raise their signal or for me to quell their attack were left to fend for themselves in this moment. My chest began to still, like the bodies around me, and as the totems that gave us strength, I wait motionless, breathless.
"Ko'atal!" A deep, guttural voice broke the silence after the doors widened. "Show yourself, Osh-Tekk scum!"
My breath remained still, for I knew now that my men would not move if I didn't. They would remain loyal to the cause, much like a true Osh-Tekk. Good for them, but they will die at the hands of these Centaurs.
"Reveal yourself, or your encampment will burn!" The voice suddenly seemed familiar as it threatened me to betray myself.
The voice was deep and commanded attention, demanded response, and was that of the General Motaro. With any other Centaurian, I may have stayed hidden and called their bluff with my silence, but as one leader to another, I would give Motaro this one chance to state he purpose, or my men, hidden on each side of the door would kill him.
Slowly I had risen, returned my headdress to its rightful place and stood as their leader with my eyes glared up into the vile orbs of this cruel creature.
"I will not hide from you, Motaro."
"You cannot hide, Osh-Tekk. Your gold, and your and your human trampling can be seen and heard for miles. You think you are above us? We see and feel everything." He bluffed, and puffed his chest with his words.
Motaro was a gruesome sight. A long twisted, gnarled beard that entangled into itself and tapered like a wizard's down to the center of chest, where hair grew just as thick like the long grass around us. His forearms held the doors between him, as if ready to seal them, or throw them wide against my men. He had to have known they were there if he knew we had come before we could even hope to hide. His eyes were like black holes that stood still in a milky sea of contempt, and they glared like daggers into me.
"I grant you only one scenario, Ko'atal." He commanded with his voice, "meet me in the great hall, alone, and we will discuss fealty to the Centaurs, or you and your false Osh-Tekk will be heads on pikes at my castle."
"We discuss a truce, or we will discuss surrender, Motaro, but I will not accept deception. My men may go to the camp, unharmed."
"Then go." Motaro released the portal at each side of him and my men, with a glance and a nod, took their leave into the long grass. "You will stay, until the terms of your surrender are met by the Kahn."
Though proud I am of my abilities as a warrior, and as an Osh-Tekk, and even as a general to Kitana Kahn, it would not be in my interest to be a fool, surrounded by certain death.
A sorcerer killed the Zetarran within the walls of the Centaurs. There is only one place for me to discover the truth of that, of the Kytinn, and my place at Kitana's side.
That truth lead me into the gates of Centaurs, held within the enemy's grasp.