Squamata War
Shrouding his vertically slit tetrachromatic pupils, chillingly enclosed within his blue-green hunter irises, Nebulosus closed his reptilian lids to fixate on the exquisitely sensitive chemo receptors that were so richly endowed within his forked and flicking tongue. Intoxicating. Arousing. Everywhere around him the vast killing field of death released a filmy mist of rotting flesh creating a viscous, rising miasma of enrapturing horror that titillated and excited the buccal papilla of the cunningly devious and newly anointed supreme religious leader of the Squamata race. He had done it. United the fiercely violent and disparately warring tribes under one single extreme religious fanaticism. Under a singular religious ruler. Under him.
Nebulosus sighed contently as he envisioned the future. Soon all the lands to the east would fall beneath his fanatical troops. The Wasak and Mahryn would be no match for his Squamata hordes, frenzied as they were by a divine fervor and their lust for war. The field of death surrounding him was only the beginning. Soon all the world would tremble at his feet.
