Starting off with a bang!

Ishta knelt at the base of the altar, praying for salvation as many do. What many don't do, however, is pray to the twin goddesses of darkness and depravity for salvation, and that salvation in not commonly from the invading army of the light. Regardless of those oddities, she prayed for help, any form of help, to save her clan from their enemies who marched towards them.

She didn't even know what to hope for, or if to hope at all. She was a member of a tribe of lizardmen, and not any important member at that. Born a runt of her litter, she was often called a kobold by her siblings as a form of mockery, despite being unarguably larger than any kobold. It was this downtrodden state that allowed her to disregard pride and see that the battle ahead would be the doom of her people. Thus, she had gone to their alter and prayed to their gods, even though she doubted her people deserved her assistance.

This inwards thinking caused her to not notice as the effigies of her goddesses began, for lack of a better word, crying. A black liquid flowed out of their eyes, slowly pooling on the floor. As the puddle began to form and grow, so did the torrent of liquid, which began leaking from the mouths as well as from the entire sockets, spewing like a punctured water balloon. The puddle continued to grow on the floor, spreading unnaturally evenly to just cover the top of the ground, matching its bumps and contours.

It wasn't until the black substance almost reached her legs, therefore entering the view of her bowed head, that Ishta finally noticed that something was happening. She scrambled to her feet, trying to back away from the substance but only succeeding in falling backwards onto the ground. Just as she dreaded it reaching her, the blackness spread around her, leaving almost an island in its see of darkness on which she was stranded.

Looking around, she could not contain her awe and curiosity as to what was happening. Was this simply a sign her goddesses had heard her prayers? Was it some dark curse or blessing, causing harm or boons to those who touched it? The possibilities were endless, or at least they were until the fountains of ichor slowly petered out, and the black coating on the floor began to move.

At first it was just a ripple and a stir, not unlike the surface of the water as a fish moved just below it. But then, the edges of the abyssal fluid began to recede and condense, forcing itself inward at which point a tendril-like shape began to form from the center of the pool. This continued until about half of the fluid had been coalesced into the large mass before Ishta, who was stranded about halfway between it and the edge of the liquid.

Before she could do anything, it started to move. It started out as a slight writhing, before it started to tear and reshape itself. It shrunk slightly, still towering over her at the size of a juvenile dragon, and two tendrils sprouted from its sides, almost resembling arms. These tendrils reconnected with the base of the ichor, as if holding up the large mass which now reformed its end before her.

Suddenly, two slits formed at the end of the largest tendril. From one, an eye was revealed, staring at her as if appraising her soul. The other, an immense maw opened, revealing near endless rows of angled teeth, designed to prevent the escape of prey. There was a tense silence as Ishta stared into its countless fangs, wondering if her fate was to be an offering to this beast in exchange for her people's survival.

When it chose to speak to her, it was in a voice far less booming and towering than she expected, instead being a raspy voice that, despite being clearly audible, almost sounded like it was whispering. "Oday ouyay eakspay igpay atinlay?" It looked at her expectantly, the edges of its maw angling into a twisted form of grin.

Ishta had no idea how to respond, and no idea what it had even said. It must have been speaking some form of ancient tongue in which she was not educated. She bowed to it, hoping prostrating herself could earn its mercy for her ignorance. "I am sorry, oh great one, but I am too low a creature to speak thy ancient tongue."

It snorted, drawing her to look up as it showing it was seemingly disappointed but not mad. "Too low indeed. Of course they speak English, why would they speak anything else? After all, they always speak English to pander to the horny Americans in these types of cliche stories." It shook itself, imitating a frustrated shake of the head.

Not understanding much of what it had said, Ishta made an attempt to understand it. "English, oh great one? Is that your name for the common tongue?"

A long groan was her response from it, "Well of course they wouldn't call it English would they? After all, there most likely isn't an England here..." It paused, seemingly realizing something. "Wait, if there is no England, then..." Its eye widened, "No Jammy Dodgers? No Fish and Chips? No Yorkshire Tea?" It wallowed and boomed in a mournful voice, "NO BOURBONS?" It fell backwards in seeming depression, the black ichor sloshing in waves that barely avoided Ishta. It fell into the ichor like one would water, the great pool widening out again before shrinking as it exited the pool, more emerging than forming in a difference from the last time.

Hoping to appease it, Ishta tried her hardest to think about what any of those things could be. She knew what fish and tea were, but not chips or "Yorkshire". And that left Jammy Dodgers and Bourbons, were they weapons? Creatures? Structures? No matter how hard she thought, nothing came to mind for what anything it spoke of was, which did make sense if it was mourning their non-existence.

Still, she dared adventure to speak to it, seeing it as slightly less intimidating due to its behavior. "Oh great one, I beg of the to hear my plea." She closed her eyes tight as she bowed once more, praying again that she could convince it to lend aid.

It let out a tired groan as she heard it slosh about slightly. "Well then, let me guess, shall we? The forces of light are either attacking as we speak or are about to, and you prayed for a miracle, yes?" She dared not speak, only nodding while keeping her head bowed. "Alright then, I suppose that is a good way to start the story. After all, you can't really do a slow build up when you are a monster."

Confusion grew within Ishta as she continued to fail to comprehend what this great entity was saying. Regardless, that was not what was important, as it seemed to have agreed to help her. She silently awaited to hear its price, fearing for the worst.

However, that price never came, instead there was the sound of the giant ichorous beast clearing its throat. She looked up to meet its gaze, taking everything within her to stay looking at its great eye and not its fangs. "Well, are you going to show me?" She could not hide her confusion, furrowing her scaled brow as she tried to piece together what he meant.

Slowly, she began to think about what it must mean. It was an entity that served the twin gods, one of which was depravity. Despite its strange appearance, it was still a beast of tendrils, leading her to believe it was such a creature as the ones her goddess would make. Letting out a sigh, she reached for her clothing to show the beast its prize...

Only for it to cut her off, "Woah woah woah! That is not what I meant!" She looked up at it with yet more confusion, still gripping the edges of her cloth garments. After a second to seemingly regather itself, it cleared its throat again and spoke once more. "I meant, are you going to show me to the enemy?"

A blush grew under her scales as she released her clothing, embarrassment overwhelming almost all of her senses. She slowly nodded as she started to stand, wobbling a little as she turned around towards the exit of the chamber. The great black ichor parted for her as she moved, forming back in behind her until she had reached beyond it.

As she reached the grand entrance of the cave-like structure they were within, she took a deep breath in and out. She knew that just because she had brought this great creature, did not mean she would not be tormented by her kin. Regardless, she strode forth, her only hope for her people's future sloshing along in tow.