The Zozkar continued studying the bloody text through the Librarians seething reply. In truth he was only half listening.  The book as a whole was a love tale to the generals that helped forge the Reik Empire. In it he had found a delightful section on heritage and family trees which briefly mentioned the Krieger bloodline. The team’s magister apparently belonged to an old family. How keen, the necromancer thought, old blood was extremely useful for rituals.<br/><br/>Grobk blinked, as his thoughts returned to the present just catching the end of the Librarian’s rancorous rebuke. He leaned back into the plush leather of the chair giving her his full attention. The Zozkar glanced to the blood left on his hand, rolling finger against thumb he tested the viscosity of the librarian’s blood.<br/><br/>“You know so little about the Zozkar. You think yourselves superior but yours is a fragile and young race. This book is testament to that fact. When your people were still learning to crawl mine were reaching through time and space to interact with the gods themselves.”<br/><br/>Through lidded eyes Grobk looked passed his bloody fingers to the Librarian. She was defiant, even in her stupor; her eyes said what she could not. ‘...and where are your people now?’<br/><br/>Grobk rose slowly from the chair at this imagined insult. His black robes writhed and moved, whipping at the air as if they were alive. His hands gripped the arm rests of her chair as he lowered himself over her prone form, inspecting her.<br/><br/>“When it’s time the Zozkar will come for your kind. How does that children’s poem go? Go to sleep. Go to sleep, lest the Zozkar grab you by the feet, and drag you away into the watery deep? You say you don’t fear death but who is to say that will be your fate? Perhaps I’ll keep you as my pet for the meager years remaining to you. A slave, never in control, trapped inside the cage of your own mind as a sad witness to a life you’ll never be able to live.”<br/><br/>Grobk’s lips peeled back into a toothy smile. His mouth opening as his black tongue snaked out over the Librarian’s cheek in a long lick. “Tell me you would enjoy that, pet”<br/><br/>The necromancer sucked at the taste of her flesh left on his tongue. He inhaled her scent inches from her neck. “Perhaps you would like something more. Do Elves make good breeding stock, I wonder?”<br/><br/>The Zozkar withdrew, rising back to his full height and glanced back at the Libraries entry. He listened. Empty. The Man-bull seemed to be delayed in his arrival.<br/><br/>“Stand, Elf, and bend over this table. Let us find out.”<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>