Man, this is leading to some seriously fun campaign! This is a good way to spark some Chronopia gaming. Take your time, though. I got to expand my Blackbloods as well and strip off the old paintjob on the old ones.
Rashid al Qasim winced as he approached the perfume scented throne room of the orc provincial satrap, Baybars ibn Zakara. Zakara, draped in silks and surrounded by a bevy of half clothed, nubile females, was an effete fop who had forgotten the stoic Blackblood martial ways.
"And what do you, have to report, Rashid?" He asked in his effeminate sing-song voice. "Another failure and disgrace to this noble house, I see. Your incompetency knows no bounds. It seems that a demotion to sentry duty hasn't thought you a lesson." Quasim, on the verge of shaking with rage, answered back. " Sire, if I may. You're continual support of the alchemical guilds and their forays into the Fallen Lands have drained us of resources and experienced warriors. Each of their expedition has cost us the lives of our proud soldiers and for what? Worthless herbs to be manufactured as opiates and perfumes? I have to make due with what I have, sire, a force of mere recruits ." Zakara did not even listen to Quasim's continued long winded speech about the provinces economic and military issues and shortcomings as he stroked a giggling female elven slave. Oh, how he loathed this insignificant common born ogre. He should have disposed of this... this cretin of a general. But he still have his uses and when he's done, an assassin's blade will swiftly dispatch this troublesome lowbirth.
As Quasim finished his speech, he made a nod to his aide outside. Zakara was about to retire into his inner sanctum when a commotion outside his throne room took his attention. There was a clashing of swords as bloodstained ogres in heavy armor strode into the throne room, their blades drawn and covered with blood. Zakara cried out at the horrific scene as his women scattered, their shrieks fading into the distance. Quasim, with a practised ease, unsheathed his sword and flicked it towards to fleeing satrap. The orc, tried to run but instead, fell realizing he no longer has a leg. "How dare you?!! You and your entire family line will perish for this. Guards!!!" Quasim bent over the fallen satrap and with a deadpan look in his grizzled scarred face said, " Sire, our most honored excellency, Nizar Bloodbound, has heard of you squandering this precious province of his. Numerous times, he has sent over emissaries to warn you of your misdeeds and time and time again, you have ignored them and considered his words as nothing more than suggestions. He has grown weary you, my liege."
Zakara, shrieking with rage, replied, "I still have my authority, filth. My sons and brothers will find out and will have your head!" Quasim, in a calm voice, answered. " My liege, as of this time, my men have already dispatched all of your kin throughout this province as well as the far corners of the Blackblood Empire. You and your line are no more. " Zakara's eyes widened, his body now weakened with the loss of blood, " Filth, you will never ascend to the throne. You of foul low birth...." Sire, I am merely an instrument of our Lord Bloodbound's will as well as you. You have forgotten that." And with that, Quasim watched Zakara's eyes close as he breathed his last.
Rashid Al Quasim strode to the blood stained throne and thought that it was fitting. He gazed slowly away thinking that he will never be satrap of this province but all he can do now is to provide counsel and guidance to the next ruler. No longer will this province be an impoverished backwater. It will be prosperous once more, and its warriors fierce and proud. And as for the Goblin Khan who has shamed him. Al Quasim will raise a new army and unleash his fury on him as well as the enemies of the BlackBlood Empire.
Praise be the Blood Throne!
