//------------------------------//
// The Black Palace 
// Story: Purple Skies 
// by Leafed Timberwolf 
//------------------------------//

As the sun sets, an equine skeleton lies in the sand, warning anyone that would stumble upon it to not go any further into the Corvejonaloa Desert. 

Dr. Mari Ethol, once a passionate researcher rather than a medical doctor, had not always been so dead. She had great appreciation for the resilient creatures of the Mexihockan deserts, so much in fact that she decided to venture bravely, or foolhardily, into the center of the Corvejonaloa - against the advice of her more superstitious Southron colleagues. ‘Cursed!’ She had once laughed. She had done so for reason. She believed to have discovered a whole new sentient specie, news that were received with stunned silence, not because of the implications, but because she had said ‘in the Black Palace’ at the end.

Looking beyond the noble remains of Dr. Ethol, one would not describe the Corvejonaloa as a sand box. The desert starts as a barren stretch of sand and mountains, which after considerable distance, drops into a semi-circular cliff. Inside said canyon, after a consider drop, the desert becomes a giant forest of shrubs, giant cacti and rocks, that at its center is as tall as the canyon walls and becomes progressively scarcer and scarcer - until it reaches the sliver of water that is the sea of Cortesia, after a considerable amount of thorns. That is the Black Palace, where almost nopony dares enter, and the place tribesponies consider to be the entrance to the underworld. Their art, the culture of the area, depicts what some might call ‘grotesque beings’ of many sizes, sharp fangs, glowing eyes and strange limbs riddled with holes in this place. Equines punished by the gods? Demons then? - Many wonder. 
The beach, where the ‘Black Palace’ ends, is a collection of mangroves surrounded by sharp rocks. In the middle of this poor lake-like area surrounded by rocks lies one small isle.

In such lands only the strong survive. 

For the Black Palace is as large and as vast as a city, as is the desert around it, and there is ample room for conflict. 

Hidden from Equestrain eyes, hidden from Southron eyes, blazing blue eyes moved through the briars. These eyes had seen a comet streaking through the heavens and a devastating fire burn down the easterly hive towers. These eyes belonged to ‘changelings’. 

These were divine signs of future victory and conquest… to the Sev’illah Cela. 

The Sev’illah Cela welcomed these signs and sprang into action with little hesitation. 

The clan had lived in exile in the Netemachili, the storm-swept isle covered in prickly pears near the mangrove beach for almost a decade. They had faded into the isle’s mists and their former glory had been almost forgotten, but after seeing the signs they had all realized the same thing:
It was time to reveal themselves, and to retake their rightful place.

The Cela were savage. Zealous. The Black Palace clans had much to fear.

In order to understand the manner of the clans peculiar to the Black Palace one must understand their history, and language. Their language, phonetic - not written, is a mixture of clicks, chirps, and long vowel sounds, which give origin to words like ‘Sev’illah Cela’ and the hated ‘Arua’illah Lekl’.

The latter clan, ‘The Land Masters of the Hills clan’ roughly translated, had once been the masters of the Sev’illah Cela. The Sev’illah, ‘The Warriors of the Mountains clan’, as legend goes, had come from the northern mountains, looking for a permanent home. In exchange for a place to live the Arua’illah used them as hired warriors and workers. However, as prosperity blessed the Sev’illah and they began to expand on their own thanks to their frightening skills, the Arua’illah decided to rally their allies, one of which were the Enao’illah Arrtiss - owners of the now burned down hive towers in the east -, and subjugate the new generation of Sev’illah permanently, convinced they would learn their place swiftly. On the contrary, the Cela were humiliated, and their blood boiled for a fight.
In an attempt to convince their vassal’s future generations that their relationship was fatherly, the Arua’illah gave their princess to them, which the Cela priests skinned and offered to their sun-god: Tonatlaa. This angered the Lekl, who planned on retaliating furiously with all they had, until they found out the Cela had fled to the Netemechili.

The name Sev’illah began to be chirped with constant worry. They have left the isle, all where sure. 
As everywhere else, speculation and rumors preceded conflict much like thunder precedes lightning. The rumors and speculations were clear: The Cela are coming for revenge. Some cackled, while others fled deeper into the Black Palace in response.

Now we arrive to a field were vague anxiety hovered over a large crowd of changeling creatures, particular in how they were naturally stronger and bigger, they had three forward-facing horns, their shells were thicker, and their heads bore a hard, boney neck frill. In short, the Arua’illah Lekl were built to ram in a fight, for they were more brawn than brains. 
They were accompanied by the now-homeless Enao’illah, clad in light wooden armor, the smaller but numerous, desperate, changeling rabble - similar to the ones an Equestrian would now be well acquainted with - readied for the thankless task of ridding the Black Palace of the Sev’illah Cela, whom they had never encountered before.

It was no rumor though, then and there, that the Cela where on their way. It was a certainty. The Lekl swiveled their heavy heads and stretched their limbs, they believed their brawn would beat the Cela back to their rock and in time they would once again be their servants, however a dark, smoky doubt lingered in their small brains. The Sev’illah had always fought in smaller numbers than whomever they went against, and they won; they had not been seen in action in a while -
So is the legend that fighting them is a horror, true?

The field was a clearing out of a dense forest, and the Arua’illah’s side was surprisingly covered in fragrant yellow flowers. A small cheer went up the Lekl. Their leader had arrived. Ipnikeri was ruthless, decisive, and had been dead for five years. 
He had come, not to lead his clan as a terrifying undead lich, but because his withered corpse had been hauled out of his ceremonial pit, placed on a platform made with woven palm leaves and set in a meditative-looking position. He was carried by a fiercely loyal bodyguard, and he would speak through his shamen. Once they had heard of his arrival the Lekl gained another reason to believe in victory: their leader had come to lead them from beyond. 

Upon seeing this, a young Cave Changeling left the skirmishers in the forest and flew back to the advancing army. He was a slender creature, young, with milky eyes and a body that could make its own light in the lower torso. His flight gave evidence of his need to stay in low light, and a resolution particular to those who have been accustomed to danger ever since their more younger, fragile states. Having flown over numerous clan warriors, some armed with wooden spears, spiked clubs, and maquahuitl clubs - some of the skirmishers were armed with long cacti, actually -, he lighted down in front of the clan lord’s bodyguard.  

“E aanerr emnem aea sev tallana, Kyat Perfeyadous!” although, it would make more sense to say he said, in a language we understand: “I bring news about the enemy army, Lord Perfeyadous!”

“Ah! It’s you Luciferin!” cried the lord of the Sev’illah Cela as he stepped forward. He was like other Cela changelings, except he sported an open-faced helm that resembled a gaping axolotl, which looks like a fatter, flatter version of the salamander, with six long sapphire-blue feathers. The Cela, or mountain, changelings were longer than the normal changeling, had four horns, four wings - one of Perfeyadous’s was battered -, four eyes - two of which were smaller and to the sides of the head -, and an iridescent shell. However, they possessed a unique and unmatched ability. Oh, and they were also cannibals, another reason many clans considered them unsavory. “What has changed that you yourself came to tell me?”

“Kyat Perfeyadous, Ipnikeri is leading them!”

“Ha!” he laughed so heartily he hopped. “A corpse!” he turned to his bodyguard and to the Cela around him. ‘Rejoice Cela! The enemy is being led by a corpse!” 

There was a short, but clear cheer. 

“My Kyat, they seemed in good spirits, the Lekl.” pressed Luciferin.

“And so are we.” Perfeyadous made a sweep with his foreleg, encompassing many in front and behind. “And I think we have been blessed. Now we won’t only win, but we will strike a blow so harsh once I topple over Ipnikeri’s dead body and step on it until it turns to dust that the Arua’illah will beg for peace.” He smiled. “Axul,” he told one of his guards. “send word to commander Ale’kal that the vanguard’s priority will be to reach Ipnickeri, and that I will see him shortly.”

“Yes my Kyat.” He responded, and flew off.

“Luciferin,” continued Perfeyadous. “I’ve known you since you were smaller than my hoof, so tell me, what troubles you?”
Perfayadous had indeed almost raised Luciferin. He was his prodigy, the one he was never able to have - a sad story that is still unclear, as to why he never had an offspring legend says he was left heartbroken after his first love perished -, even though he was not a Cela changeling. Of all the Sev’illah Cela, Luciferin had the name that was hardest to say. His origins were quite curios. He had been found ‘in a hollow metallic place’ in the desert, next to a weird fat deer and a rock that kept repeating something that sounded like ‘conitanis luciferin, conitanis luciferin, conitanis luciferin.’ Or at least, it is said, that was what Perfeyedous had been able to sound out when he had heard the strange tongue coming from the ‘rock’. He took ‘Conitanis Luciferin Cela’ in his forelegs. Luciferin had been in some battles, but as a message runner, and had never shown cowardice.

“That is a large army.”

“It is.”

In the warfare of the Black Palace, the Sev'illah Cela believed that morphing in battle into the enemy, or someone special to the enemy, or anything other than a mountain changeling, was extremely dishonorable. The Lekl, in turn, were quite proud of their natural strength, so they rearly morphed in battle. Some of their brightest moments in conflict did involve taunting their opponents into charging them by morphing into them and then running them down under their weight. Their strategy was the same, have the Enao'illah hold them up as long as they could, then charge through when the Cela's numbers were thickest.  

“Ah, you do know me to well. It’s true, the Lekl don’t concern me in the least! I can’t wait to see them cry in terror, but what does bother me is the… additions my Kyat has made to this force.” Luciferin looked around to see if who he was referring to was near. “I doubt the commitment of Sychopis and his band…”

Sychopis, in turn, was one of the changelings who lived in the cliff hives. He was tall, his limbs were skinny, his eyes were noticeably wide, his wings were tremendously big and his hooves looked almost clawed. He, and his followers, which numbered around four hundred and thirty, had adopted the outrageous idea of polytheism, and very violent sacrifice.
Perfeyadous nodded. “He’ll do his part, now you must do yours. Now go see to it that everyone is aware of who is leading the enemy’s army, and confirm that Ale’kal’s teams are ready.” He said in a way that left no room to question. 

“Yes, my Kyat.” Luciferin bowed, and flew off. What worried him was not the battle, but what would happen after it, he did not understand it, but he believed cave changelings had an refined senses when it came to danger. As far as he knew, it had to do with Sychopis and his ilk. Something was coming. Surely they would march on and burn down the hill fortress of Aura'icalan. He pushed his anxieties from his mind, for now at least.

"Awake the Xicuruata!" yelled the lord, raising another cheer. In their mythology, the Xicuruata was what they called the ahuizotl creature, their war god and the implacable beast that drowned anything that threatened it.


*


Ale'kal was a great example of the early glory days of Sev'illah Cela. Born in the hive of 'Topoch Ico', a still prospering hive on the tail-like peak of a small but long mountain in the shape of a bump, surrounded by a narrow valley on which mineral water flows-on the mountains, he was born to a soldier family and learned as much as a Cela changeling could learn about anything, and dedicated to what would be called 'hive architecture' after his drone service. Many considered him to be funny, for a Cela changeling.

It was in his late teens when Topoch Ico was attacked by an enemy clan. At the time, there were none of the generals loyal to Perfeyadous, but merely a garrison of mixed talents, as it is recorded. In what seemed like an easy victory, and an assured massacre against a seemingly leaderless army, the enemy clan attacked. Ale'kal stepped in, declared himself commander, named some strong and charismatic Sev'illahs as his subordinates, paid others to fight with food, and led the Cela to a glorious and incredible victory that in turn decimated the enemy clan’s ability to protect their home in the desert - which was sacked. He immediately gained the attention of Perfeyadous because of his fluid strategies and strong likability. It was decided that his talents were being wasted in the rank and file drones of 'Fortress' Topoch Ico, and he was made general of the north.

Of the Cela army marching to meet the Lekl, three groups were considered special, and had been placed under Ale’kal. As the entire army was symbolically the embodiment of their ahuizotl god, each team was thought as a symbolic part of the ahuizotl. The coyotes - the claws, the scorpions - the teeth, and the iguanas - the tail. The members of each one had an open-faced helm that looked like their respective animal agape. The scorpions were great spear throwers, the iguanas were, curiously, very fast runners, and the coyotes were part of the priests of the mountain god Coiet, who knew how to rip out a heart cleanly with obsidian blades. The iguanas had brought one hundred and twenty of their fighters, the scorpions one hundred and eighty, and the coyotes one hundred.

“Luciferin!” Ale’kal jumped. “Come praise the sun before sunrise with me, brother! I can already taste the victory!”
Luciferin had spread the word as well as he could, so he made sure all was ready as best he could too. “Ale’kal, good to see you in high spirits! Are the three teams ready?”

“Yes, I was heading to see Kyat Perfeyadous just know, the battle is upon us, so I recommend you get ready, spread the word.”

“Wait, I think, since the battle is not far ahead, tell me, what will role will Sychopis and his lot have?”

“Ah yes… them. I recommended they stayed in the back, but Sychopis seems to be getting a tighter grip on our Kyat every day. I’ll thank Tonatlaan when this battle is done, surely a victory will get our Kyat out of his gloom, and out of the need for Sychopis and his god.”

Luciferin hopped closer. “Ale’kal, you’re my friend, tell me our numbers and theirs, really, I mean, those who are going to fight.”

Ale’kal scratched his side. “Well… you are our Kyat’s kid after all, so by what we’ve gathered from the skirmishers is that there are around three thousand two hundred Enao’illah warband, and two thousand six hundred Arua’illah royals.”

“That’s five thousand eight hundred.”

“And then some.”

“Minus those who aren’t fighting, we have seven hundred here, and twelve brigades of one hundred and forty Cela, plus Sychopis’s canyoners: we have two thousand eight hundred, plus skirmishers.”

“Very small difference.” Luciferin nodded.

Ale’kal smacked him on the withers. “Yes. Nothing new. Are you concerned?”

“Agaist Enao’illahs? Ha!” Luciferin laughed nervously.

“Well let’s get going then, our Kyat, oh and glory, awaits.”

The two changelings went on, neither of them knowing what awaited in the near future, further from home. For now they only saw one thing: what laid immediately ahead of them. Related to that, their enemy didn't know what awaited them either.