Nkosi dreamed; her body, clad in sheer black silks which clung to her sweating form, rested upon a divan overlooking the cool desert night while her mind traveled far to the north. There she stood upon blackened earth, although stood was not the correct term. Her legs, shapely and pale, had melded together so that they formed a bone-white serpent’s tail. Her right arm shone brightly in the pale moonlight, stripped of flesh and now merely skeletal. All this did she know without seeing for her gaze remained locked on the scene before her.

A serpent, king of all serpents by its size and nature, battled fiercely with a giant hawk. Together the titans rolled in mortal combat amongst trees and snow. Nkosi knew this place to be far north of Styria, desert homeland of her people. In awe she watched the conflict, feeling both small and incidental in the face of such power.

The two seemed evenly matched, neither able to gain an advantage over the other. Yet, in the midst of this struggle, the serpent met her gaze and a voice rang within her slumbering mind. “Prepare”.

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Nkosi dreamed; her body, clad in the robes of her craft which clung to her sweating form, sat in the lotus position within an arcane circle atop a tower overlooking the cool desert night while her mind traveled far to the north. There she stood upon blackened earth, although stood was not the correct term. Her legs, shapely and pale, had melded together so that they formed a bone-white serpent’s tail. Her right arm shone brightly in the pale moonlight, stripped of flesh and now merely skeletal, unlike the black blade of the dagger gripped in her talons. All this did she know without seeing for her gaze remained locked on the scene before her.

The serpent and hawk battled still, both horribly wounded yet equal in their determination to win this battle. Nkosi moved forward, ivory scales softly scraping the barren terrain. So small she seemed compared to the two gods before her. So insignificant. Yet Nkosi knew her craft well and moved with the confidence of one born into power.

A slice of her flesh sent blood pouring to the ground. Dark energy welled within her cold soul as she reached into the Nether, giving life to the pooling blood. Red serpents crawled forth and clamored onto the giant hawk, seeing out its open wounds and entering its body, spreading poison within while its adversary ravaged it from without.

Still, the battle did continue, neither able to gain an advantage over the other. Yet, in the midst of this struggle, the serpent met her gaze and a voice rang within her slumbering mind. “Sacrifice”.

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Nkosi dreamed; her body, clad in the robes of her craft which clung to her sweating form, sat in the lotus position within an arcane circle atop a tower overlooking the cool desert night while her mind traveled far to the north. There she stood upon blackened earth, although stood was not the correct term. Her legs, shapely and pale, had melded together so that they formed a bone-white serpent’s tail. Her right arm shone brightly in the pale moonlight, stripped of flesh and now merely skeletal, unlike the black blade of the dagger gripped in her talons. Six slaves lay surrounding her, each taking in the view with both awe and horror yet held fast by the power of her craft. All this did she know without seeing for her gaze remained locked on the scene before her.

The titans battled on though the hawk seemed weaker than before. With a grim smile Nkosi moved to each slave, taking blade to throat and spilling dark blood in a circle around her. Reaching once more to the Nether, she called forth the power laying dormant there and shaped it to her will. Now did the bodies rise, flesh falling from their bones to lay in piles. Skeletal hands grew talons and once human jaws elongated, forming great maws filled with jagged fangs. The six she set upon the hawk, ripping and tearing at the flesh as ants against a giant. Yet the necromancer was not yet done.

Calling forth her darkest knowledge, Nkosi raised her arms, one of flesh and one of bone, skyward and spoke in a language full of malice and hate. The circle of blood surrounding her grew, forming itself into her likeness yet many times larger. This golem of blood she too sent forth but to the serpent, not the hawk. And the serpent opened its maw and took in the golem, growing larger and healing some of its wounds in the process.

Still, the battle did continue, the hawk beset upon at all sides but still filled with strength from within. Yet, in the midst of this struggle, the serpent met her gaze and a voice rang within her slumbering mind. “Dominion”.