The Feuquing Lizard King

KaziMackis, the Feuquing Lizard King.

His High Feuquitude, the Lizard King of Nimro, and Demigod of the Pantheon of Ra!

May he always be the Feuquingest of all Lizards!

I, Fraggle the Pungent, Prophet of the Lizard King declare His Gospel. I am his Mouthpiece. As my service is reliant on the purity of my witness, I have removed my own hands. I serve in Word, His devoted follow in Deed.

Because of my lack of literacy, I have appointed a Quill of the Lizard King. The Unclean Orc’s tongue was removed, to be of better service to his Feuquiness, as was his name. His name is simply Quill now.

His Coming is called the Day of the Feuquing Lizard King, hereafter referred to as F-Day.

I was stationed on the ramparts of the Fortress of the Once Great King. I was a second leader of the Fire-Oil Platoon Omega. The month was begun with rumors of the infamous army, CrIsis, marching toward the slopes of Mt. Nimro, and slaughtering entire scouting and strike forces in their campaign. The Once Great King did not believe it more than a small group of “6 high-powered demons of the Vaunted Light” in his words, but even the half-crazed whisperings we coaxed out of the terrified survivors felt certain it had to be at least double that. And a White-Skinned Minotaur; horns blazing golden rays of light, reflected in his burning eyes… But the Once Great King believed not.

I knew that there must be more than 6 mere mortals in the group to destroy utterly scores of Giants. Not even I, Fraggle the Pungent, could dream of felling a giant single-handed.

The days turned into weeks, and still the OGK sat self-important in his opulent throne, hearing reports of the army’s advance. They might as well have been flying banners and blaring trumpets on the Immortal Highway.

I was chosen for the Lizard King’s Prophet, and some part of me must have known he would arrive. I generally task in-subordinates to exterminate vermin in the fortress, such as His Holy Offspring, but I stopped inexplicably, a week before F-Day.

That week, there was a force killed every day, and the blessed ‘Light’s Shroud Fog’ started to fight for the Army of CrIsis. The OGK started to rage at night, saying that the Fog brought Death. He ranted that it killed the giants by flash-freezing them where they stood, sucking their souls through their screams. He ordered that his small legion of Psionics erect The Barrier. Only a few times before had he ever done that. But seeing the line of death carved through his kingdom, the OGK felt fear stab at his heart – The foreshadowing of the Lizard King’s Arrival.

F-Day arrived, and there was a heaviness in the air, as well as high-speed fluttering noises – the sounds of the Lizard King’s angels, most likely. CrIsis and a few followers, no more than 12, led an ingenious and daring assault on the Fortress. They bypassed the satellite towns deftly, but despite their machinations they were losing the fight at the fortress gate.

There is a strange architectural phenomena of the Volcano. Any sound made inside the crater can be heard amplified a hundredfold anywhere in the Fortress, something to do with holes in the rocks or something, I don’t know how it’s done. That is how, shortly after the assault on the fortress gate began, we all heard the perimeter scouts screaming in abject terror, plunging to their deaths. My blood started racing. ‘Here comes the rest of the army,’ I thought.

Shortly after, we heard it. The great thundering ripping noises of His Majestically Feuquing Gecko’s Feet, in full run. Moments later I saw him in his full godly glory, gliding smoothly around the treacherous slopes. The sun was setting on the slopes of Mt. Nimrod behind him, casting over the tableau a manifestation of Ra’s declaration of The Lizard King’s power and acceptance.

His skin was smooth, like glass shaped and hardened in the Fires of the Great Mountain. His eyes were bled through with Red, Yellow, and Black, the image of death by fire. They moved smoothly over the fortress, calculating and cold, not pausing in his charge.

A faltering volley of arrows were launched to greet him, but no mere mortal weapon can harm the Lizard King!! He leapt into the air, spinning, and flung half of the arrows back at the walls of the fortress. A few thundering strides later, another volley was sent at him. Not bothering to move out of the way, he demonstrated his power!

He opened his terrible maw, and launched a great gob of spit and mucus at the walls of the Fortress. It exploded on the barrier in a fountain of flame, but didn’t breach the barrier – it merely added to the awe felt by those standing ‘safely’ mere feet away from the fires clinging to bits of the invisible barriers. By the time the flames cleared, he had reached the base of the wall, and started to climb them.

The order was called for the barrier to come down, and to prepare the oil. I called my platoon forward with excitement, knowing we were the last line of defense before the Fortress was breached. We reached the crenelations, and readied the barrels of oil. The few brave souls that mustered the courage to look down the side of the wall said that he wasn’t there! He’d disappeared! But, before a search was put together, an overlapping voice filled with power and rage stopped everyone in their tracks. Standing on top of one of the shields farther down the wall was the Lizard King, Proclaiming his Divinity!

“You think you can come at ME?!? You don’t know who I AM! I am the Feuquing Lizard King!” To punctuate his point, he shot another glob of fiery mucus at the oil barrels. The world exploded in white then black.

I heard, through the tinny ringing in my ears, my Master’s Voice, proclaim to his victims, “Your burning corpses feed me!” The world returned gradually, first the screams, then the feel of the cold stones and the heat of the burning corpses around me. My vision returned like being brought out of a murky pool, quavering images slowly solidifying, just in time to see the Gekzilla himself, standing over me and chomping on a corpse. His mirthless, ruthless gaze fell on me, and I voided my bowels.

“FRAGGLE THE PUNGENT!’ his overlapping voices boomed over my head. ‘YOU ARE TO BE MY PROPHET! TAKE YOUR FELLOW SURVIVORS OF MY ASSAULT, AND PROCLAIM MY GOSPEL TO THE REST IN THE FORTRESS!” At once, I knew that I would follow this creature till death, and beyond. I ran through the hidden doorway, leading a handful of orcs and trolls discarding their holy symbols, proclaiming to all that would listen the Feuquing Lizard King had arrived, and was here to punish the non-believers!

The Door’s Guard ran out onto the rampart to see for himself, which spurred the war cry I have tattooed on my chest, “ALL HAIL RA! LORD OF THE LIZARD KING!!!” I know nothing of the gospel of Ra, but I proclaim the gospel of The Lizard King to all reaches!

A group of the Great One’s Offspring breached one of the barriers over the fortress with ease, survived the trapped balcony outside the armory, and breached the fortress while the Lizard King called me his prophet. Verily, they are blessed!


He sleeps in the Volcano, where he returned after his first assault on the fortress. All are to give respect to every rock and plant on it.
His Offspring are godlike creatures capable of killing dozens of beings with a single stare if they desire! Do not attempt to harm a single one!
Respect His Offspring above all else! Do not remove one from his desired perch, even if it is on food, drink, or in the way of an army. You will go around them, or wait for them to move of their own will!
Destroy all non-believers by fire.
To attain the strength of your foes, all believers MUST eat the ashes of the vanquished.

And so it is written, so it shall be! From the Mouth of His Mouthpice, to the Ears of his Quill.

Fraggle The Pungent.


Flag by our own Art by Gaitkeeper.

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