ImmacuNES VI: Dreams and Legends

"-Chief? Chief?!"
The bewildered bleeting of his aide snapped Charon back to attention. This strain was.. tiring, to say the least.
He nonetheless tried to offer some focus on the man.
"As I was saying, Overchief, the men are restless. We cannot restrain them much longer."
As if to prove his point, a racket began emnating from the lower hall, with the warriors there surely brawling amongst one another again.
Charon sighed. "Well, what would you suggest we do, Artraeus? You know war is out of the question, we cannot defile Mt. Dias by tramping an army over it, even to get at the vile lizardmen, and trying to circumvent it with an organized force that large would be a feat worthy of the Gods! Surely you see our predicament?"
The elder could not meet his gaze. "I agree it would seem difficult, but the Gods would not forsake us this easily. Surely there must be something we can do?"
"Well, if there is, it completely eludes me..." Charon gloomily retorted, slowly drifting his gaze over towards the passing sky through the roof's smoke-hole.
In stark contrast to the sounds of pounding flesh from the adjacent hall, the Overchief's chambers fell upon a ghastly silence for what seemed to last an eternity.
Even the guards were attempting to stifle their urges to cough or sneeze, not wishing to draw any ire.
Artraeus watched Charon as he viewed the drifting clouds, the shifting light moving across his face as it was set in contemplation.
Artraeus could almost see the spark of comprehension as it lit in Charon's eyes.
Charon snapped back to attention, his lethargy seemingly incinerated by the fires of this new purpose as he lept from his throne and began marching towards the lower hall doorway, while calling back: "Artraeus, begin gathering the chiefs, and place orders to begin amassing supplies and equipping men. We go to war!"
"W-war?! B-but, my lord, you said we could not cross Mt. Dias?"
Charon halted momentarily and turned his face just enough for Artraeus to catch the corner of a wolfish grin. "Indeed."
He strode, triumphant, into the cacophony of the lower hall.
Only to be momentarily staggered by what he saw there. The warriors had frozen in the places they had been, stunned by his arrival, and the scene seemed like some foul cross between a bar room brawl and an orgy.
He could spot at least one burly warrior, who was currently balls deep in a squealing pig. A male pig.
Deciding to push these disturbing images from his mind, he regained his grasp on the drive he had been instilled with.
Raising his bronze blade to the rafters, he bellowed "For Nikostratos!".
The men, after a second of shock, responded with a resounding chorus of "For Nikostratos!" in return.

The men feasted well that night.