Author: Bloody Mary
{oOo}
Imotekh would have been twitching, were he not a creature of metal. Instead, he was flexing his hand spasmodically, as he regarded the remains of glorious Mandragora. Priceless, ancient machines that have withstood ages were now piles of slag and cables, destroyed in a senseless civil war.
Their armies, once vast and unstoppable, were reduced to a roughly four warriors. The nobility was a bit better off—there was approximately six of them, all trying to act nonchalant in the face of Imotekh's wrath.
"What have you done?" he wailed.
"He started it," said Sutekh, while pointing at the noble next to him. That one in turn, pointed at the one next to him, causing a very small wave of finger pointing. The four remaining warriors started pointing at one another too.
"Our tomb world," Imotekh howled. "The armies! The devices! All ruined, because you morons had to start a war of succession!"
"Sorry?" the left-most noble said, while the others resumed watching the walls and the ceiling.
"Sorry?" Imotekh roared. "SORRY? YOU CAUSE ALL OF THIS AND YOU ARE SORRY?"
The six nodded. If he had tearducts, Imotekh would have sobbed. Instead, he said weakly, "If anybody asks, I'm watching Orikan's last season.
He felt some quiet satisfaction as he heard three dismayed cries of "You mean he's not real?"
{oOo}