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razzle-zazzle · 2 months ago

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Whumptober Day 05: Sunburn

Healing Salve + "If my pain will stretch that far"

2385 Words; Raised by Serpentine, sometime before "Can of Worms"

TW for mentions of past attempted indirect genocide (the serpentine entombment)

AO3 ver

“I wonder if we should go down to the lake later.” Lou mused.

Skalidor turned his attention to Lou, “You hate the lake.” It was true—the lake was a deep half-flooded underground cavern that seemed to stretch on forever, the other end unlit and unreachable. Lou did not consider himself a strong swimmer, and rarely went down there if he could help it.

Lou shrugged. “I was thinking we might have fish for dinner.” He stepped to the side as an overexcited hatchling barreled between them, a harried parent chasing after them.

Skalidor hmmed. “That does sound good. Perhapss Cole and I can go down there to surprisse you with one.” The tunnel they were in opened up as they reached the central chamber, torches and patches of growing moss illuminating a spiral up to the ceiling high above. Chanting filled the area—there was an active Slitherpit in progress towards the center.

“You and I can what?” Cole arrived before them, the same hatchling tucked under his arm and squirming furiously. He turned his attention to the hatchling—ah, Skalidor recognized this one. Little Pebbline, the youngest in the entire tomb. “You can’t just run around recklessly,” Cole was chiding, as Pebbline struggled valiantly to return to the ground. “You’re going to break your face on a wall.”

“Will not!” Pebbline protested, hanging upside-down in Cole’s arms at this point.

“Pebbline!” And there was Bytar, her father. “Thank you for catching her, Cole.” He smiled, taking Pebbline in his arms, and she hissed her displeasure before subsiding.

Cole grinned. “Of course!”

Bytar turned back into the tunnel, then, heading off with Pebbline in tow. Skalidor could faintly hear her begging to go back so she could see the Slitherpit.

“It’s a good thing you don’t run around like that anymore.” Lou commented, as Cole fell into step with them. “I could barely catch you back then, I wouldn’t want to imagine having to catch you now!”

Cole opened his mouth to respond—

A terrible grinding sound filled the central chamber, the sound of stone against stone harsh and loud. Screams broke out as everyone looked for the source of the noise, and Skalidor clutched his staff and pulled Lou against his side. Cole leapt forwards, arms outstretched as though he might prevent the inevitable cave-in—as though he was yet capable of moving more than small pebbles.

“It’s coming from above!” Someone shouted.

“The ceiling will crush usss!” Another voice realized.

“EVERYONE OUT OF THE CHAMBER!” Skalidor commanded, watching as Dweller and Constrictai alike dashed for the tunnel entrances lining the wall. He started to slither back, Lou still close at hand, once it seemed as though almost everyone was out—Cole!

“Cole, what are you—” Skalidor started, almost ready to go back in just to drag him out. This reckless boy—!

“It’s not caving in.” Cole’s arms had fallen to his sides, and he was gazing up into the shadows of the ceiling with an unreadable expression. “It’s—”

He stumbled back at the same time that the grinding stopped, arm raised above his head as he stared up towards the ceiling.

“Cole.” Skalidor hissed. The whole chamber was clearly unstable, after a noise like that—or worse, it had been one of the tunnels, and Skalidor’s order had seen several of his people buried—

“Skal,” Lou stepped forwards, pointing up towards the ceiling, “dear, look up.”

Skalidor looked up.

His staff clattered to the ground from a suddenly boneless hand—Skalidor ducked down to pick it up, keeping his eyes up on the ceiling—at the top of the stairs that wound around and up, a remnant of when their community had first been entombed generations ago—

Eyes locked on the bright circle of light where before there were shadows.

The light shooting down the stairs was brighter than any torchlight Skalidor had seen before, brighter than any glowing moss. It almost didn’t seem real—never, in all of his decades, had Skalidor conceived of the tomb being opened. But that was what the light had to be, right? Surely, it couldn’t mean anything else.

Faces were peeking into the central chamber from the tunnels scattered about, curious mutterings filling the air as everyone present took in the new development.

“Open?”

“That light!”

“Impossible! Nothing can break the barrier!”

“It’ss ssso bright…”

“How did it open?”

“A monster! A monster iss coming down to kill uss all!”

There was a shape casting a shadow upon the steps. Skalidor gripped his staff, and slithered forwards. Cole fell into step beside him, and Skalidor held his staff in front of the boy to stop him.

“Wh—lemme help!” Cole protested, voice close to a whisper.

“Sstay here.” Skalidor hissed. “I will invesstigate. You will protect.” Cole made a face, but backed off, standing beside Lou as Skalidor ascended the ancient steps.

That the stairs were completely out of use wasn’t actually true—though the tomb was magically sealed, the stairs allowed access to the upper walls of the central chamber—Skalidor passed by murals and carvings that had existed long before him without a second glance. He slowed down as he reached the top, squinting against the light.

The form that cast the shadow stood at the entrance, backlit by light so bright that Skalidor couldn’t make out any features. But their shape was vaguely serpentine—they would likely be strong, if it came to blows. They might even have some of the strange adaptations Skalidor had heard the supposed other tribes of Serpentine possessed.

“Who goesss there?” Skalidor asked, when the figure remained still. After a moment, they moved, slithering forwards and ducking their head. Their neck was very long—a potential handhold for grappling, then.

“Greetingss, my Constrictai cohort.” Their voice was smooth and even, and they moved to the side of Skalidor. They were scaled, just as he expected—but where Skalidor bore the blacks and oranges of a Constrictai, they were violet.

“An Anacondrai?” Skalidor asked. He’d heard the tales—they were the strongest of the Serpentine, the fastest and most resilient. They outmatched every other tribe, and lead the charge in the ancient war—but even they, too, had fallen, or so every tale assumed.

The Anacondrai nodded his head. “Oh, where are my manners?” They offered a hand, “Pythor P. Chumsworth, at your service.” He smiled, then, pleasant and disarming.

“How did you open the tomb?” Not even an Earth Master could break the barrier, nor could they tunnel around it—though there had been plenty of attempts. The tomb was meant to be permanent—a resting place, where those entombed were to die and never return.

“Curious, no?’ Pythor inclined his head towards the entrance. “Far as I can tell, for all the effort they put into making the tombs inescapable from within, that same effort wasn’t given to prevent them being opened from the outside.”

Skalidor balked. “That easy? But why?” There were no intentions to let the entombed out—or else they wouldn’t have been trapped down there for generations. Right?

Pythor shrugged. “Well, the rock was rather heavy. But yes, I could feel the magic breaking as I moved it. The seal didn’t wear off.”

Skalidor hissed. The light seemed to beckon him, and he tore forwards, needing to see for himself that the tomb has well and truly been breached—

Skalidor recoiled as the light from outside the tomb hit him in full. After a moment, he reopened his eyes, slowly enough that, though the light still burned, it did not sear quite as bright as before. His eyes adjusted, to a light level they had never experienced before—

Skalidor gasped.

Pythor slithered up beside him. “Well?” He prompted, staring out at the sights he had already seen.

“It’s…” Skalidor searched for the words. He had thought nothing could dwarf the underground lake in terms of sheer size—and yet. The light bearing down was hot, far hotter than any torchlight, and brighter as well. It reminded him of a festival years past when they had set up a bonfire in the central chamber. Back when Lilly… back when she had still been alive, standing at his side and making sure the smoke didn’t flood the caverns.

But not even the bonfire had anything on this. Skalidor turned his head towards the sky, eyes squinting against the light raining down. It was so bright. He could hardly see—and yet it was still better than when he had first emerged, and couldn’t see at all.

Pythor watched as Skalidor breathed in the outside air—it was hot, bone dry, so different from the caverns—patiently allowing the general to adjust. “Incredible, is it not?” He asked.

Skalidor breathed slowly, just trying to take in the enormity of the sky above him. Brilliant blue—he wasn’t sure he had seen blues so deep—cascading from horizon to horizon like the roof of a cavern—and yet the sky seemed to go on forever in a way that stone did not.

“It’ss something.” Skalidor breathed, dizzy from the magnitude of it. “I never imagined…”

Pythor chuckled. “I think we’ve all felt like this.” He swept an arm out, “I can’t believe this was kept from us—and for what?” his expression darkened. “Because of some trifle like a war that ended long before you and I were born? For generations, we’ve suffered beneath the surface, locked away from all of this world that they’re not even using—!” He paused, taking a breath. “My apologies,” He bowed his head. “I lost control of myself. But the knowledge of all that we’ve been denied—” He cut himself off with a hiss, shaking his head.

“No, I think I get it.” Skalidor spoke. “There’s just. Sso much.” From this perch atop—a mountain, was that the word? Skalidor had to think back to the stories of the surface passed down through generations—but from up so high, Skalidor could see so much. And yet he couldn’t make out anything living—that he recognized. All this space…

The tomb was never really cramped, in Skalidor’s memory—there simply weren’t enough Constrictai or Dwellers in it. Maybe it had been cramped when the original community had first been sealed away—but that had been long before Skalidor’s time. But he had heard the stories, of what could grow up here, of animals much bigger than cave newts. The vast distance laid out before him suddenly seemed so ideal—and yet he couldn’t spot a single surface human, nor any sign of their communities. He absently noticed his tail buzzing. He didn’t quite care to stop it.

“They have all this space that they’re not even ussing.” Skalidor hissed. “We have had to sscrape together what little we could find—”

“They don’t deserve this.” Pythor agreed, “Not one bit. Not after locking us away like vermin!”

Skalidor’s grip on his staff tightened.

“Skal, you ok—OWWW—” Skalidor turned around to see Cole poking his head out the entrance—well, no, the boy had stumbled back into the shadows of the entrance, what little of his face wasn’t hidden behind his arm scrunched against the light.

Skalidor chuckled. “Bright, isn’t it?” Beside him, Pythor’s eyes narrowed.

Cole tentatively reached his hand out into the light. “It feels like I’m sticking my hand in fire.” He muttered, before pulling back. Slowly, he lowered his arm, eyes blinking open—and immediately squinting against the light.

Pythor grimaced. “There are humans in your tomb?” He sounded put out by the very idea.

Skalidor regarded him curiously. “Sssurface humanss were willing to entomb their own kind.” He spat. “But now the dwellers are simply more of our kind—our community—” He looked at Cole with fondness— “Cole is our Elemental Master. Earth, in fact.” There was uncontained pride in his voice, for all that Cole had yet to fully inherit Lilly’s mantle and powers.

Pythor hmmed. “I had heard that a Master of Earth took up arms on the side of the Serpentine.” He stared at Cole curiously. “I had thought it just a tale to tell hatchlings, to give them false hope.”

“Well, I’m real.” Cole replied. He glared at Pythor for a moment more before schooling his expression. “Thanks for opening the tomb.” He said, in tones of quiet disbelief.

Skalidor could hardly believe it himself. “We can leave the tomb.” He murmured. “We wouldn’t be trapped anymore—what you’ve given us access to, I—I don’t know how we could ever repay you.”

Pythor waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, no no! I don’t need anything in return! I just abhorred the thought of any of my fellow Serpentine continuing to suffer in their tombs.” His mouth curled in distaste, “It really was cruel of the humans to entomb us all. They don’t deserve this pristine surface of theirs.” He hissed. “Not one bit.”

Skalidor nodded. “You have my agreement on that.”

Cole leaned against the side of the entrance, arms crossed. When Skalidor glanced back, he could see others had climbed up the stairs—even if most of the watching faces were sticking to the shadows, eyes squinted against the light.

Pythor’s head tilted as he regarded them all. “Well, while I did say that I didn’t need anything in return…” He mulled over his words before continuing, “I was hoping you might join me in my endeavor to reunite the Serpentine once again. It would be so wonderful to take the surface back from the humans, don’t you think?”

Skalidor wanted to. Just looking at the open space spilling out before him, and knowing that there was yet more that had been denied to his people by the sealing of the tomb—he wanted the surface humans to pay for their crimes. To deliver the grievances of hundreds of Constrictai and Dwellers from generations of suffering unto them, and make them pay.

There was one problem, though. “We barely number two hundred.” Skalidor pointed out. “And many of our number are not built for war.” There were the elderly, the young, the sick and those disinclined to fight. Nobody was at full strength—especially not with the current blight. “How will we ever defeat the surface humans, when our ancestors could not?”

Pythor chuckled. “Oh, my practical friend, I have just the plan for that!” He looked to Cole, and then to the cautious faces peeking out of the tomb’s entrance, and spoke.

“Have any of you heard of the legend of the Great Devourer?”

#whumptober2024 #no.5 #healing salve #''if my pain will stretch that far''#lego ninjago #zaz writes #death mention #food insecurity #skalidor ninjago #cole ninjago #lou ninjago #pythor p chumsworth #raised by serpentine #this uh. this did not go in quite the direction i expected #but also i really do feel like seeing the sun & sky for the first time is like. akin to a religious experience in this au #given the whole. 2 and half cnturies long entombment #also damn i cannot win at getting my prompts out before 10 pm this year huh #got shanghaied into spending nearly all day helping move grandma's stuff that the movers aren't gonna get #bc she's moving in with us #tomorrow tho. i should be able to get tomorrow's out sooner #but yeah!!! the tomb is opened!!!#this was originally gonna be in cole's pov but the idea of pythor getting skalidor on the revenge train... oughhhhhh #pythor shut the fuck up challenge (impossible)

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