Snake Men

After the Old God's servant was finally, mercifully, extinguished, Thranduil dissolved his fiery fusion with Yan. Then, the two of them, one a blazing comet in the sky and the other a living inferno on the ground, unleashed the twin fires of heaven and earth to utterly, ruthlessly purify the dark, corrupted corpse. The sheer amount of existential nastiness emanating from Mythrax required nothing less than a full-scale, two-day cremation.

The flames burned with an unholy intensity, the scorching heat turning the very desert sand into shimmering, obsidian-like glass. Only when the ground beneath them was a vast, desolate mirror did Thranduil finally extinguish the inferno in his hand. Pure elemental fire wasn't the absolute nemesis of the Void, but thankfully, the four elemental forces operated independently of the universe's six fundamental powers. His Infernal Flame and Yan's Phoenix Fire had, with considerable effort, managed to barely purify the Disassembler's remains, preventing it from ever having a chance to stage a comeback tour.

When Thranduil finally completed his "cosmic cleanup project," it was two days later. He commanded Yan to beat its wings, kicking up a colossal amount of sand to bury the newly formed glass landscape, a silent, fiery tombstone. Then, with a weary sigh, he mounted the Phoenix and soared north, towards Snake Canyon, to rendezvous with Galen.

From his vantage point in the sky, Thranduil saw the canyon floor teeming with snakemen, a veritable sea of scales. He estimated at least forty to fifty thousand of them, packed shoulder to shoulder, all prostrate on the ground, kneeling with fervent devotion towards the tall, ancient tower to the north.

Just yesterday, these devout snakemen had been in a state of utter panic, their scales quivering from the relentless assaults of the Faithless. Then, two distinguished guests (Galen and Bwonsamdi, though they didn't know it then) had arrived, seemingly out of nowhere, and saved them. They'd thought that was lucky enough, a stroke of divine fortune. But then, after that rather ordinary-looking human (Galen, again) had simply walked into the temple, their goddess had suddenly revived! Sethraliss, the revered Loa of the snakemen, had finally returned after thousands of years of slumber! It was perfect timing, too, given that the seal of Atul'Aman had just been broken, unleashing a dark monster that had driven away their other patron, Rezan. The panicked snakemen had found their backbone, and it was a very, very large serpent.

Thranduil's arrival caused a fresh wave of commotion, a ripple of excited whispers spreading through the kneeling masses. But it quickly subsided, replaced by a renewed sense of awe.

"Look, it's the firebird that saved Atul'Aman from disaster!" "And the beautiful long-ears behind the Firebird! He saved our families from those Faithless villains!"

The snakemen recognized Yan as the majestic phoenix that had led away the monstrous evil god wreaking havoc on Atul'Aman. They also recognized Thranduil, who had personally rescued a significant number of snakemen slaves from the clutches of the Faithless army. In short, the news that this celestial visitor was also a benefactor of the snakemen spread like wildfire (pun intended).

A profound sense of happiness, almost giddy relief, filled the snakemen's collective body and mind. Their unique appearance had always given other races a rather "gloomy" impression. Combined with the aggressive, utterly villainous antics of the Faithless snakemen, who committed every conceivable evil in the Vol'dun Desert, their reputation was, shall we say, not stellar. When the Devout were in trouble, no outsiders in the entire region had been willing to lift a single scale to help them. And now, with their own Loa returned, they had several saviors arriving all at once!

Good days were coming for the faithful! This was simply a celebration for everyone!

After the high elf demigod recalled his phoenix, he floated down from the sky, a bewildered expression on his face, and landed softly next to Galen. "How is this going?" he asked, gesturing vaguely at the ecstatic, kneeling masses.

In response, Galen merely narrowed his eyes, a knowing smirk playing on his lips, and motioned for Thranduil to look over.

She was a female snakeman, radiating an aura of undeniable nobility and gentle power, her entire form shrouded in a faint, crackling layer of lightning. But these weren't the most important details. Most importantly, Thranduil sensed an undeniable connection from her.

It's definitely one of our own.

Thranduil understood everything in an instant. This guy, Galen, had somehow managed to acquire yet another powerful fighter for his ever-growing roster.

The two stood together behind Sethraliss, quietly observing the newly revived Loa preside over her resurrection celebration, comforting her believers with ancient wisdom and crackling energy.

It wasn't until the celebration finally wound down that Thranduil, with a look of profound disgust, took Xal'atath out of his pouch and unceremoniously tossed it to Galen.

Galen caught the dagger, raising an eyebrow at the faint traces of black ash clinging to its blade. "This is a not-very-obedient weapon," Thranduil explained, a hint of vindictive satisfaction in his voice. "I taught her a small lesson."

The Blade of the Dark Empire, hearing this, emitted a furious wave of void energy, as if about to burst into a torrent of ancient, cosmic curses. But before it could unleash its colorful vocabulary, a golden light flared in Galen's hands. A layer of Holy Light instantly enveloped Xal'atath, completing the most effective manual microphone-muting spell known to man.

"Oh, I seem to have missed something?" A gentle, surprisingly tranquil voice came from behind the two of them. It was Sethraliss, who had approached them silently.

It was hard to imagine that a Loa who wielded the raw power of lightning and possessed a cobra's head could have such a peaceful, calming voice. However, as Bwonsamdi had once said, a Loa willing to sacrifice herself to protect her believers truly possessed great love and selflessness. So, perhaps, a gentle temperament wasn't so surprising after all.

"Just the little things," Galen dismissed, smoothly changing the subject. "Sethraliss, it's a good thing you've revived. There are some matters that require your personal oversight."

"You speak, great lord," Sethraliss replied, her voice humble.

"Vol'dun has once again been chosen by evil forces to become the epicenter of a great change." Galen paused, a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes. The Twilight Bastion in the south had always been a major headache, but now, with his strong army and a plethora of talented individuals, he could delegate such matters. The real reason he was still running around was simply because he preferred not to be stuck in Stromgarde's palace, drowning in government affairs. "Akunda has been murdered. We need to integrate the power of Vol'dun to deal with the evil that will come next. I was originally planning to let Thranduil handle this, but now… I think you are far more suitable."

Sethraliss listened intently, her cobra head tilting slightly as she grasped Galen's meaning. "High Lord, are you referring to my descendants who have abandoned their faith? I will personally go and pull them back into my arms."

"Excellent, perfect," Galen said, nodding approvingly. "Thranduil, there's also a saber-toothed tiger Loa on the northern coast. I have a feeling he has a 'connection' with us. Go and get him into the team."

Thranduil's expression fell, a look of utter reluctance crossing his face as he accepted this shamelessly convenient task. "And there are also the foxmen," Galen continued, oblivious to Thranduil's silent protest. "A native race of the Vol'dun Desert. They're smart and decisive. Our logistics really need such talents to replace those goblins who only care about gold coins." Galen, frankly, was fed up with the goblin race. Even with their loyalty bound by the Heart of Origin, they still managed to pull off endless "small actions" and petty schemes. Though, to be fair, Galen himself had a rather large family and a vast fortune, so their little pilfering was truly trivial. He just wouldn't tell anyone he simply thought goblins were too ugly to work with.

Having meticulously assigned tasks to the two powerful beings, Galen, with a spring in his step, left Vol'dun and set off for Kul Tiras, undoubtedly to find more "little things" that required his personal, hands-off attention.