Well, I got thinking and decided to do an origin story for my aos army. Also, the seraphon book is so vague it bugs me, and I decided to tweak the lore for Seraphon a bit. All models in this tale are models I own (except the slann). The skinks were bored. Normally when they were reshaped out of starlight, they fought. But this slann had just sat there. So, after an hour or so, they'd stuck their their javelins and blowpipes in a pile and were basking in the warm sun. The ten of them (eleven if you count the slann) stood on a strange formation, a flat plateau of grassy rock in the middle of a still ocean. It was so unusually flat, it was almost certainly slann-made. The skinks were still bored and still basking an hour later, when eight Saurus Guard stepped out of nowhere. Literally, they walked out of thin air. "Whoah," murmured Axmoah (axe-mower), the Skink Chief. They had all seen reinforcements summoned before, but this wasn't the norm. Where was the whumph and blast of fog across the battlefield? Where was the sudden change in the constellations? True, the blue sky blocked out the constellations, but Axmoah could feel that the heavens hadn't changed. He hesitantly approached a Guard. Maybe something about his appearance would show clues? Axmoah stepped back sharply and hissed in displeasure. They had green markings around the bony spikes down their spine. They also had green-edged head crests, but that wasnt important. Turning to report back to his skinks, he saw the awful truth. Axmoah scampered back to the group of skinks. "He's making a Holy Army." At this, all the skinks reacted. A couple only contracted their pupils into slits and hissed. Others went for their javelins. Two or three individuals ran for the edge of the island and tried to jump in and drown themselves. A Holy Army was an army dedicated to one Old One. This by itself wasn't too bad, but it meant you were locked to a single slann. And when the slann died, you didn't die immediately, but you couldn't be summoned back when you did die. The current state of affairs was, basically, immortality. Live, die, get summoned by a different slann, repeat. The skinks liked immortality. You got used to it after a while. The slann had already bound them to him, but if you killed yourself before it completed, it was possible that you could escape. The slanns eyes flicked open and a shimmering shield blocked the skinks from the edge of the water. The Saurus Guard moved as one into a shielding formation - the slann expected resistance. Axmoah had to strain to get his voice heard over the threatening growls rumbling out of the saurus. "Skinks, stand down!" The skinks were already ready to fight, but against Saurus Guard - it would be a massacre. Three ignored Axmoah, and charged at the Guard. Axmoah's group huddled together, observing the suicidal skinks as they threw themselves at the Guard. They were torn apart, and then summoned back. Two of them gave up and slunk back to Axmoah, but the third killed a Guard. The leader growled at the slann. The slann waved a hand, and suddenly... nothing happened. What? Then it clicked. Axmoah had always been a clever, observant skink. The slann had given the skink a shadow. This meant he was no longer a starlight creation.This meant he existed intrinsically on the physical universe. This meant he was back to flesh and blood. This meant, as the unfortunate skink was hacked apart, he was able to feel pain. That, and die gruesomely. Wincing, Axmoah turned to his compatriots. "Look skinks, look what we just saw. This slann can return us to our normal forms. Yeah, eurgh. I didn't mean look at that. Savages." The Guard were eating the remains of the dead skink. "What I meant was, our situation has worsened, true. But it could be worse. All we need to do is keep our slann alive, and voilà, immortality is still ours. All we need to know, is what our slann likes dead, and whether he would be kind enough to teleport away after we start to lose." Meanwhile, the slann had summoned in another twenty saurus, still with the green markings. His 'loyal' skink group pushed him towards the slann. Axmoah slapped away their hands away and approached slowly, smiling awkwardly. He spread his hands in a gesture of peace, dropping his javelin. He'd forgotten about that. Lucky. "Umm, Mr Slann? We need a translator. A skink starpriest?" Reality bent and twisted and spat out a bedraggled skink Priest. Axmoah tried desperately to disguise his disgust at the state of the priest. Before the portal snapped closed, he got a quick glimpse of a demon prince driving a huge sword through the head of a stegadon. "Is this a skink Priest off an Engine of the Gods?" The slann nodded lazily. "Um. A priest is fine, and maybe even useful for rituals and stuff, but maybe..a starpriest? Not-to-be-ungrateful-but-" The last gabbled part was in response to the Slann raising a fat arm and pointing it at Axmoah's forehead. A starpriest came flying through a portal, followed by a huge fleshy arm. A giant? The starpriest immediately synced with the surrounding Seraphons minds to understand the current situation. "The slann Slymi'tunah says obey him and live, or disobey and feed his loyal warriors." Upon the word feed, suddenly all Saurus turned and stared at Axmoah. "Yeah! Me and my skinks'r with you, Slymi'tunah! 103%!"
This is hilarious! I enjoyed how you dealt with conversions in your army! As always humour is on point. Can't wait for more!
Axmoah was playing a game with a saurus guard while he waited to speak with the starpriest. He called it "Don't touch the Celestite Polearm". The aim was to not get thwacked with the Polearm the Saurus Guard held. You had to dart in, step on both of her feet, and then get away. He'd only done it twice out of ten times, and felt slightly concussed. The Saurus Guard didn't care - the top of her feet were as armoured as the rest of her. But she was worried that if Slymi'tunah got attacked while this irritating skink was stood on her feet, he would stop her from being able to protect the slann. So when the small frilled amphibian tried to do it again she kicked his knee out and pushed him away. Axmoah let out a groan of pain. A stone had lodged in his back and he couldn't get it out.He looked imploringly at the Guard, who sniffed and looked away. So much for her. He climbed back to his feet and went over to some of his fellow skinks. They pulled it out, and a burst of starlight sealed the wound. Axmoah felt a warm pain in his back, then nothing. "Cheers," he thanked them and walked off, carefully blanking the guard as he walked past. The starpriest was interfering with the island they were on. He was slowly drawing the ground up beneath him, building a hill from which to observe everything the slann was doing. He also had a strange little transparent cup beside him, with a small umbrella in it and a slice of a green fruit in it. Axmoah walked up and prodded the cup suspiciously. "What is this? And why do you have it? We don't need to drink." The starpriest looked up from the cloud of glowing sigils he was manipulating. "Don't flick it please. Its a memento of a friend. An extremely old skink. Who once threw a cup exactly like this across a room and declared loudly he would not be remembered for drinking, and that he hated fancy cups like this one. So I remember him for his hate of fancy cups." Axmoah frowned. "That doesn't sound very respectful." The skink shrugged stil "Well, its amusing. I can either laugh at him, or I could cry about him. I chose to laugh, and also this cup has saved my life. Did you have a point to coming over, or do you just want a chat?" Axmoah was taken aback by the directness of the starpriest. "Uh, I want to know if you can undo the creation of a Holy Army? Its just that me and my skinks enjoyed untethered immortality, and... I dont know, I just don't like Slymi'tunah's way of getting skinks. I mean, that Priest over there being kicked by the stegadon? He was stolen from an Engine of the Gods, just before it was destroyed." The starpriest dissolved the sigils with a wave of a hand and turned to Axmoah. "Follow me." The starpriest - Axmoah needed to find out his name - led him straight towards the slann. Axmoah stopped dead, and with the quiet dignity of a man walking to his own execution, followed a bit slower. The starpriest immediately asked the slann "Could you drop the Holy Army thing for this skink?" "Axmoah," Axmoah quietly interjected, " but what is your name?" "My name is not important. And no, the gift of a sacred spawning cannot be removed. As a gift, returning it would be rude. If you don't like it, then tough." The starpriest juddered violently, and a grey smoke began to pour from his mouth. Slymi'tunah's eyes popped open, and with a strain, he raised his arm and a beam of starlight burnt away the grey impurities. "An attack. Marshall the forces, Oracle. We must avenge this." "Uh, I'm not an Oracle," Axmoah spread his arms as if inviting the slann to observe closely. Too late, he felt the weight of the battle standard on his back, and saw the obsidian gleam of a divining rod in his hand. "Awww..."