Feast of the Serpent Lord

“Welcome!”  A deep booming baritone greeted the Queen of Shem as she entered his quarters.  

“Thank you Doom, it is good to be here once again.”  Jeesala warmly returned.  

Having resumed his guise, now Thulsa Doom appeared to others as having skin of ebon hue, long straight coal-black hair that came to below the shoulder plates with the smallest of fringes, and vivid blue eyes.  

Her complexion was a burnished bronze, of one who’d spent time in the Sun, auburn hair that just crept past the shoulders.  Her dress similar to that of Yasimina’s thus leaving little to the imagination, but of opaque royal purple and with more ornate golden jewellery around the arms and neck, and footwear that matched those of Doom.  

“And it is good to meet you in person at last, King Uriaz.”  He greeted her new Husband.  

King of the City-State of Asgalun, Shem’s most important Coastal City.  A man who’d was nearing the end of his thirties but still cutting a fine figure with medium-length black hair and a short beard.  His King’s Robes hiding a body that while past its peak was still plenty strong enough, and a crown of gold atop his head.  

“And you as well, I look forward to our…partnership.”  Uriaz politely answered, his voice not as deep as Thulsa’s, but still carrying some significant strength to it.  

A familiar gleam in his eye caught Thulsa’s attention, but he offered an embrace that was returned.  “Now, a toast, to our new alliance.”  He directed their attention to where one of the two servants - both clad only in slightly torn tan-brown loincloth that loosely hung around the waist - had poured their goblets of the best Wine Shem had to offer.  

Seated across from one another, Doom and Uriaz raised their goblets and drank to each other’s good health.  

It was only a precious few minutes of cordial discussion of affairs that passed, and already the King of Asgalun showed signs of weakness.  His speech slowing, words slurring into each other, his head drooping on his leaden shoulders.  

“King Uriaz?  Or you well?”  Thulsa queried with no hint of concern.  

“I…I…fee…lll…”  Uriaz’s lips barely moved, his voice barely audible as he slumped where he sat, the goblet rolling free of his hand to clatter on the marble floor.  

A hand gesture from Doom and the two servants roughly hoisted the unconscious King up, Jeesala having vacated her seat to permit them the extra space to strip him of all his clothing and other fineries.  

Naked, it was plain that the early signs of decadence had set in his body, the muscles in the arms and legs reduced, the early signs of a growing gut, the hands and feet just a little soft.  

“The usual place for him.”  Doom commanded them both sternly, though for one of them he had additional instructions.  “You, Thugra, remember his face well, for you will be wearing it for a long time.”  

“Yes, my Lord.”  His voice carrying a hint of relish while he and the other servant hauled the soon-to-be-former King out of Thulsa’s sight, taking with them all that had been Uriaz’s.  

“That was almost too easy.  Practically all of Shem now.”  A hissing rasp sounded from Thulsa Doom’s left.  

With the human no longer a concern, Jeesala had seen fit to drop her guise while seated in the long couch beside Doom’s.  Her scales a dark leaf green all over, red eyes, and a very serpentine head save for her own nose being alike to the Cult Leader’s.  

“And Koth, and Stygia as well.  Zamora won’t be long either.”  Thulsa Doom added, his own voice changed to match his preferred form.  “And still a little time left before the Feast.”  

“Then what should we do in the meantime?”  

“I intend to ready myself for it.  These,”  He indicated the robes he wore, “are becoming a little dirty, and perhaps something a little, simpler, will suffice.”  

“And easier to cast off?”  Jeesala couldn’t resist the slight tease, knowledgeable in his, habits.  

“Perhaps.  And perhaps the same could be said with regards to yourself.”  Thulsa returned with a small smirk.  

[+]

While Thulsa Doom and Queen Jeesala discussed the preparations, Thugra and Kutamu had taken advantage of the labyrinth of caverns to reach the Kitchens without incident.  Keeping the outer robes, jewels, and crown, Thugra handed the rest to a waiting guard for disposal.  Spread over the table, hidden from view, he took one last long hard look at Uriaz, before taking the long knife provided, one deep cut along the arm, then the other.  

The potent narcotics and sleeping agents slipped into his drink kept him in blissful, sleeping stupor, even as his life blood cascaded from his cooling body, breathing slowing, heart fading.  Less than five minutes later, he breathed his last.  

As Thugra’s face changed, short blond hair longer, a beard sprouting from his face, his frame less lean while he slipped himself into the robes and set the jewellery upon himself.  

“I’ll confess, I’m going to miss that body.”  Thugra paused, adjusting to his new accent.  “I had grown used to it.”  

“And you’ll need to get used to this one.  You’ll need it for some time.”  Kutamu relied quietly.  “It will be worth it all in the end.”  

“That it will.”  Thugra finished their talk for the time being as they left the kitchens, leaving the carcass to be processed.  

“So where have you been assigned?”  Thugra broke the silence in the safety of the hidden tunnels.  

“Aquilonia.”  Kutamu informed him.  “The rest of the New Guard is in place, waiting for my arrival.”  

“And you leave in?”  

“Two days, that’s what Lord Doom has instructed.”  

“Strange isn’t it?  Even a few short years ago, we wouldn’t even be talking about this.”  Thugra mused.  “It has grown so fast.”  He added in reference to the Cult of Set.  

“The Youth of Today, they’re weak, directionless, decadent.  Seeking for an Easy Solution to their woes.”  Kutamu explained.  “Yearning for the simple path that we provide them with.  More than we first suspected, yes, but that is good.”  

“And as such, in time, we will reclaim our Hold on this World.”  Thugra finished their discussion.