From the Hidden City (Warhammer Lizardmen Temple-City Quest)

Turn 3 Results

Long Range Patrol: 1 die, Loqtli.

At the turn of the new century, even as work began on the repairs to the western gate, Loqtli once again took charge of his small force of Horned Ones to range far out into the wild jungles surrounding Zlatlan.

He also took charge of the entirety of Zlatlan's native Cold Ones. And rode out from within the confines of the city itself at the head of a trickling column of riders that sooned joined itself to another trickle, and another until it was not a trickle but a stream. Then a roaring river of scaled flesh. It was not the whole of the population of beasts, some hundred or so remained still within the wall of the temple-city, but it was the majority.

The force of cavalry rode out as a single might force for a week and then splintered along a dozen different lines. Much of the territory had already been charted, patrol paths marked out in ways all but invisible to any save the Lizardmen, but the country to the east still remained mostly unexplored. With the great range of mountains guarding that flank it had not been necessary for ensuring the city's safety and yet even so the work could not be truly completed until the condition of that land was known.

So while others went to survey places known, Logtli led his Horned Ones east. Soon all would be known to him, and to the Slann through him.

Action Completed. Stewardship Actions Unlocked. Trickle of information concerning movements of various non-lizardman populations gained.

Repair Western Gate: 2 dice

Repairing gates the size of the ones of Zlatlan's was no small feat; they were solid stone, each one wide enough for a bastiladon and a half to stand atop, and attached to the opening and closing mechanisms hidden within the gatehouses by a truly massive bronze pin. That pin had to be removed, and the mechanisms detached before the doors could be moved. It took weeks to remove even one fully and of course both sides could not stand open at the same time so the word must be done in stages, first the inner set of doors and then the outer.

And there was of course much waiting as gears, rods, and wheels were pulled from the opening and closing mechanism to be inspected and repaired. Fortunately this time was not idle, as the doors themselves were inspected for cracks and damage. Quickly declared fit, it remained only to put them back in place once the mechanism was back in working order.

Six months and a week passed from the start of work until the inner doors were once again operational.

From there work could begin on the outer doors.

Nearly twenty weeks were required just to bring the doors out of their housings — much of the internal mechanisms had been warped in place, allowing only a little range of movement, or torn loose from their proper housings and there was debris caught in all manner of place, some of it entirely unwholesome in origin and requiring the attention of priests to cleanse — finally though the work was done and the doors laid out on the open grounds before the walls of Zlatlan. As the various pieces of the mechanism for opening and closing the door were repaired within the city, the outer doors too were inspected. Of the two, one was judged too close to ruin and consigned to be destroyed and replaced while the other was deemed sufficiently intact to be repaired in situ. For the latter a method similar to that used in repairing the spawning pools was used.

With the inner doors in working order and the outer doors gaping laid out it was possible, for the first time in many centuries, to bring out the warbeasts of the Lizardmen; and it was fortunate that the inner doors had not been in such a state. Four stegadon tromped out, accompanied by a group of Kroxigors hefting enormous pickaxes led by a nervous little Skink and guarded by a troop of Saurus. In moments the procession had disappeared into the depths of the jungle.

---

Korai hefted the pick over their head. Fast enough Liss'en Ohp, perched far too closely on the scaffolding overhead, nearly went head over tail. The Skink sent a chittering barrage of insults and reprimands raining down on their head.

It was an old game they played, the Kroxigor and Liss'en; they were all spawn-siblings, born from the same pond on the same day, and bound together by the very will of the Old Ones. No matter what harsh words were said or what near misses they gave the Skink they all returned to the same pit at night, shared the same meals, tended to each other's wounds. Admittedly that last was more difficult for Korai and the other Kroxigors.

But more difficult was not impossible and there were many ways to look after someone.

Once, Liss'en had been cornered up a tree by some hairy beast out of the deep jungle with tusks as big as Korai's forearm. They had been felling some trees for… something important, for weeks and though most of the jungle animals knew to stay away this one apparently did not.

Everyone of them had been scared beyond sense at what would happen to Liss'en and none had known what to do. Liss'en had been too frightened to give sensible orders. Korai had had to think long and hard for the solution.

It was a matter of moments for Korai and the others to render the creature into so many bloody chunks, none of them bigger than Liss'en themself. For safety they had carried the Skink all the way back to Zlatlan under one arm, it was much too much of a risk to have them wandering about getting into Old Ones knew how much trouble.

Liss'en had protested of course, loudly, the entire way. But they had not given the order for Korai to let them down. They could still remember the squeaking chitter of their voice carrying –-

"Swing! Swing you lumbering thick skulled oaf of a brute!"

— yes, very much like that.

"SWING!" Came the shout again, and Korai looked up to find Liss'en gesturing wildly with one reedy little arm, "The pick, swing it!"

Oh. Right.

Korai brought their arms forward and down, driving the tip of the pick biting deep into the stone in front of them and sending chunks and splinters spinning loose.

Skinks like Liss'en were often reminding Kroxigors like Korai about things like that, because it was so hard to remember sometimes when their minds drifted to other, more important, things. Of course they were always thinking a dozen different things, it made them fretful and easily frightened, Korai was glad they didn't have to worry so much.

They hefted again and brought the pick down in the same motion this time, sending more chips of stone flying away — hmm, they might have to go a bit deeper into the stone, Korai didn't like the look of the stone there; looked weak, if they came at it wrong it might crack the whole slab.

Liss'en had said this stone was meant for the gate, which meant it was an important stone. Had to be whole.

"Swing!"

Right.

Korai swung again, a bit further back from the seam this time. Yes, that stone looked better.

---

Four weeks passed before the group returned to Zlatlan, a rough slab of stone in tow. Six more weeks to carve it so that it matched. Most of those spent in carving out the stylized depiction of the Old One Yuxa — a yawning maw of darkness with teeth of stars and a tongue of planets — who was lord of the farthest west, master of dusk and counterpart to Chotec. At long last it was done and in time the two doors again stood side by side within the walls of Zlatlan, able to swing open freely at command.

Action Completed. Western Gate Repaired. Stewardship Actions Unlocked. Various DCs lower.

Harbor Expansion: 12 dice, Xehtzaihl .

Xehtzaihl watched a pair of stegadon drag an enormous block of volcanic rock nearby, while another pair were detached from the enormous basket of ash drawn out of the deep stores of Zlatlan. The former would be broken up then mixed with the ash, slag from the city, and finally seawater to form a slurry which would be poured into the enormous drained pit stretching out into the water of the bay and when it had set and dried it would form the first layer of the eventual drydock. Enchanting glyphs would be engraved into every exposed surface to prevent erosion and reinforcing worked throughout to strengthen it against shock and stress. Another twelve years of work before the first hull could be laid down.

It had already taken three years to get to the point of being able to begin. First a series of dikes had to be constructed using excavated dirt from the ongoing expansion of the fort into a proper citadel —

Though the water above churned with the wind, Tukil paid it no mind. Beneath the waves was calm, the water of the Bay of Stars shielded from all but the gentle pull of the true moon by its shape. For a Skink the gentle tug and pull of the water might have been more difficult to ignore, for Tukil it was not but a gentle motion across their scales as they swam deeper and deeper.

Light receded above them though it never fully faded. It hardly mattered, a Kroxigors eyes were well adapted to low light just as their lungs were made to sustain them for great lengths at depth and their powerful feet and tail were made to propel them through water with ease.

Which was handy because Tukil needed to reach the bottom.

This side of the dike had not been settling properly for the past week, constantly shifting and sinking no matter how much soil was dumped in the location. It made further expansion tricky. Threatened to delay work by days or weeks. Such difficulties were not acceptable and so Tukil had been selected, along with with two others they did not know, to inspect the area n in question.

From both sides. Tukil was in the open sea, or what would be the open sea when the polder was completed. At last they saw seafloor and turned to inspect the base of the dike.

Several minutes passed as they swum the base of the failing section, finally spotting a jutting piece of rock protruding from the seafloor to dick into the dike. When dirt fell on it, instead of piling up into a compacted mound it only slid down and off the sides; creating a shadow of empty space in the dike only slowly being filled in as the sides fell in to meet.

After a moment of contemplation Tukil swam beneath the lee of the rock and crouched into as tight a ball as they could, setting their back against the bottom of the stone and wedging their tail in as deeply as possible. With their feet flat against the seabed, they gave a mighty heave.

Dirt cascaded down around them, some of it tickling their nostrils.

The stone rocked back into place.

Crouching deeper into the crevice, Tukil waited a beat and then gave another heave. Rock dug into their scales, not painfully, but noticeably.

Again it rocked back into place. But gentler this time.

So, with a final explosive heave Tukil sent the enormous stone rocking away into the deeper waters and themself rocketing back upward towards the surface. Which was good because they were getting close to running out of breath.

— then the water had to be drained, and finally the outline of the harbour's foundation had to be laid in wooden planks.

---

When the last layer of cement had dried it left a pair of enormous sloping grooves stretching out into the water to the east of the now citadel, capped at one end by heavy wood gates sealed by pitch. The drydocks stretched far enough back in land and out into the water that three ships could be comfortably worked at once in each, depending on size, with each segregated from the others by additional smaller wood gates. And though currently only the next size up of vessel could be produced, the drydocks themselves were entirely prepared for the two sizes of vessels beyond that.

As vessels proceeded down the line the water could be filled and drained as needed, several large grates had been fitted into the walls of each section attached to channels running nearly the length of the walls. Each tunnel large enough to admit Kroxigor at need and connected to large pumps.

On the western side of the citadel the two small docks had been expanded as well, using the same techniques, into a row of five wide docks that could host numbers much beyond the current fleet. Cranes stood scattered across their surfaces, ready to load and unload whatever might be carried in though for the time being all that came ashore was fish, crustaceans, and mollusks from the various fishing boats that trawled the bay.

And in between the two stood the new citadel. With walls raised twice as high in solid stone, towers to match, and the glinting pinnacle of a Temple of Tzunki protruding overhead. The skeleton of a ring of docks at the base of the prominence on which it stood had been expanded and filled in, little more than a ring of solid wood at which troops could be taken aboard or let off; it turned the citadel into a hard knot of resistance which could not be easily assailed. In time the skeleton could be further expanded and connected to the rest of the harbor.

The shapes of larger hulls were already taking shape in the dry docks, a pair of frigates with the stone keels typical of all the larger designs laid out so many years ago by the Slann. Worked with enchantments which would lighten their bulk and give them greater speed, these vessels had but one purpose. To carry the expedition even now being prepared for Lustria.

It was only because of the superlative designs of the Slann, and the nature of the Lizardmen, that such vessels could even contemplate travelling such distances, but by the middle of the third decade of the century it would be done.

Action Completed. Docks significantly expanded. Learning Actions Unlocked, Stewardship Actions Unlocked, Martial Actions Unlocked. 2 Frigates Produced.

Error Checking: 11 5th Spawning Slann

The mystic quietude which had settled over the world in the wake of the enactment of the Great Warding was soon to come to a close, the malign influence of the false moon waxed greater and greater with each passing day. Once it reached its closest approach the touch of the enemy upon the world would be heavy indeed — not so great as during the Great Catastrophe, but enough to stain the world irrevocably.

No possibility of victory existed, but defenses could be erected. Obstacles laid. Paths obscured. This was the duty for which the Slann, all the Lizardmen, had been made by the Old ones; to safeguard the world against predation by abhorrent evils born from nightmare excess of every kind. And though they had manifestly and utterly failed in that charge, they could not shirk it.

It was not in them.

So again the Slann turned their minds to the matter of errors in their efforts to bolster the Great Warding and for near on half a century they meditated the least of the plaques of the sequence which were open to them. Picking and probing for insights and clues.

The grand avenues of energy from the Geomantic Web were not open to them, distant nexii naught but the most indistinct beacons whose shape could only be guessed and calculated through ruthless rigor. Constellations were studied. Winds tasted. Distant planets in their endless orbital tracks accounted for, even as the ocean currents — read from the movements of waves in the Bay of Stars — added their own data. Insight was piled on insight until at last the gathered Slann could be sure all previous missteps and errors had been caught.

Only then did the real work begin.

True corrections could not be made across such vast physical distances, there were limits to even a Slann's prodigious power and the rituals necessary to enact such changes were imprecise at best and prone to significant collateral damage. Even had they the necessary skill to undertake them. Perhaps one such as Mazdamundi, he of the Second Spawning who ruled Hexoatl, could have.

But Zlatlan had none to match him.

So they made do with the subtler methods available to them. As one the gathered Slann of the Fifth Spawning rose as a great choir into the aether above the city and cast their gazes east, west, north, south. In every direction they spied one or two twining threads of power which pulsed, like the slow ponderous heartbeat of the world itself, their way towards Ulthuan and Warding at its center.

Reaching out with limbs of spirit each of them grasped a particular tendrils, felt the thrumming power of it pulling their souls into an echoing and powerful resonance; the sheer force of it threatened to sweep them away for a moment. But Slann were supreme masters of magic, capable of feats even the unborn servants of the enemy could only hope to match by the dark graces of their idiot gods. Steadied, they tested the threads of power.

Each flexed easily in hand, bending power into whatever shape they desired, but resisted change and snapping back into place the second they were given freedom. So the Slann joined together again, in twos and threes and began their work.

With patient strength, limitless rigor, and manifold minds the gathered Slann bent and pulled and yanked the cords of power into more auspicious alignments. Adjusting spiritual pressures and mystical levers so that their origins were shifted by precise enough degrees to form a continent and ocean spanning glyph of protection that blared defiance back at the false moon.

Action Completed. Errors Corrected - Resulting in ??? and ??? and…

Aziki Plantation: 2 dice

With the secrets of the plant thoroughly plumbed by the Slann, the task of planting, caring for, picking, and juicing the aziki fell to the Skinks of Zlatlan and they took to it with the same alacrity and drive they took to all their tasks. Total and complete.

By its nature the process could not be rapid, once the seeds were planted it took several years for the plants to mature. From there the berries could be harvested and pressed to produce a trickle of the juice. For the first several years this was only a small amount, enough for each Slann to have a cup every few months and provided no great change overall to their general feeling of lethargy.

In part this was expected, precise methods had to be determined before large scale production could be commenced but a hidden confounding factor emerged; though it had been known from the beginning, due to the research of the Slann, that conditions were not precisely ideal for the plan, it had been thought such factors could be compensated for with magic. Unfortunately it was not so simple. Aziki, apparently, were quite temperamental plants and the quality of their fruits varied widely depending on many conditions. Too much rain or too little. Overly hot seasons.

All had adverse impacts on the plant and though enchantments could smooth the difficulties to some degrees it was ultimately an inefficient and costly solution. Ideally extensive plantations would be located outside of the city, higher into the foothills of the nearby mountain range where the environment was more stable.

But the state of the populace, the condition of Zlatlan, and the general disrepair of the infrastructure beyond its walls meant such expansions could not be undertaken. For the time being the limited production was enough to meet the needs of the Slann, though no significant stockpile could be maintained.

Action Completed. Aziki Juice Produced for Slann. Roll one less d2 at each Turn to determine Lethargy! Small chance to lose bonus per Turn.

Getting To Know Your Attendants: 1 Personal die

One evening as he was inspecting some of the mundane beehives he'd installed when he first arrived in Zlatlan, or rather one of its descendents, Wik'keer'mal called one of his senior priests to attend to him. He did not often do such things, many Skinks often took such things to mean more than they ought, but it was necessary. Events were in motion that required too delicate a touch to leave his most capable servants as virtual strangers to him.

When the priest, named Gif'a-Gahb, came skittering in and prostrated themself before him.

"August Lord, you called this one?"

"Rise priest," he projected.

After a moment's hesitation the Skink did rise, though they stayed with their head bowed, darting eyes peering past the ruff of their feathered headdress only occasionally when they thought he might be looking away. Most nervous out of all the races which comprised the Lizardmen, Skinks were prone to seeing disaster around every corner, though it did not damper their bravery in battle or their devotion to the ends of the Old Ones.

No doubt at that very moment, Gif'a-Gahb thought they had been called in over some failing or mistake. Though Wik'keer'mal, and Slann in general, was not prone to castigating his servants.

"You have been with me since I left Lustria; over centuries, through disaster and war."

There was a pause as the Skink contemplated his thoughts.

"Yes, my Lord, and it has been the highest honor imaginable since this one was blessed to be spawned with the gifts of the Old Ones."

"And yet, in all those long eons of life shared I have not grown to know you. It is a failing — "

"No my Lord!" Gif'a-Gahb squeaked in shock, then in great terror clapped their hands tightly over their mouth before immediately prostrating themselves against the floor.

" — It is a failing, but one I mean to correct," he continued as if the priest had not interrupted him at all. Though in truth such things were an irritation. "Rise then, priest, and tell me of yourself."

There was a stretch of silence, a long moment, which passed in an instant to Wik'keer'mal but which must have seemed like an eternity to the Skink. Finally at last, they straightened themselves slowly, gripping their lensed staff tightly in claw and peering up at the Slann.

"My Lord?"

"What works do you cherish? Are there victories you prize? Tell me of the ends you turn your days to when no immediate duty is required of you."

Gif'a-Gahb swallowed, "My Lord, my all is given to the work of the Old Ones in which you instruct me… "

Such an answer was to be expected, almost lauded, but he did not need to be assured of the priests dedication towards the Great Plan of the Old Ones, no, Wik'keer'mal needed his question answered. Rather than repeat it though he simply waited. Letting the silence lengthen until it became a pregnant moment of tension running through the priest.

" ... "

Any moment.

"... but, ah, once this one had the privilege to bring the might of the heavens down upon a horde of the neverborn pressing a column out of the Golden Tower… "

He crooked his lips, not quite a smile but something like it, as the memory of the event swam up in Gif'a-Gahb's mind and Wik'keer'mal plucked an echo of it out for himself. This was good.

"... and during the decade of monsoons last century I worked my will… "

So they went on for sometime. Talking of battles won, defeats tasted, works completed. And the sour taste of seeing the temple-city in such a state when they could still remember the glories of its past. There were of course more conversations over the following months and weeks where the Slann prompted and questioned until at last he was satisfied with his knowledge of the priest.

---

Atahuinqua was reviewing, for the third time, the list of supplies being laid in for the planned expedition back to Lustria when the summons reached them. It was the fourth such summons in as many weeks. Had the summoner not been Lord Wik'keer'mal himself the oracle would have called the interruptions tiresome and irksome, especially given their apparently frivolous nature, but of course the Lord was as far beyond Atahuinqua as they were beyond an ant and whatever reasons their Lord had must far outstrip the oracles work in importance.

Though it was important work.

Ever before Chupayotl had fallen, details on the condition of the continent had been… unreliable in the aftermath of the Catastrophe. Zlatlan had only a partial list of which temple-cities had fallen into ruin and which yet stood and their maps were of course millenia out of date which made planning for a route for the expedition quite a mess.

And of course sailing the ships that way in the first place would be an entirely new endeavor, though at least there the prodigious intellect of the Slann had foreseen such possibilities — the entire design of the frigate was one of flexibility to mold itself to new mission parameters — so the pair of ships should not be too hard pressed. No. The real uncertainty came once they reached the continent itself. For navigating that now fallen land to the safety of Itza would be no small feat even for one such as the Oldblood Huatza-Botl.

Which was why Atahuinqua must do their utmost to ensure every possibility that could be accounted for from the outset, was. And these strange meetings with the Lord Wik'keer'mal interrupted that work.

But it was clearly a necessary interruption.

That was the thought that dominated the Skink oracle's mind as they arrived to the Slann Mage Lords chamber.

"My Lord."

They bowed low but did not prostrate, the Lord preferred subtle deference over obsequious displays, Atahuinqua had learned over the long centuries of service.

"Rise, Atahuinqua and rest yourself."

He extended one of his slim limbs to indicate a reed mat set before him, underneath the great western facing window where steady sunlight poured down to warm air and stone. Easing their way forward the oracle eventually settled onto the surface and let their body ease under the pleasant ministrations of the afternoon sun.

"Last you told me of your adventure, some centuries past, in which you uncovered a hidden shrine of Itzl and recovered reins fit for a troglodon."

They nodded, "Yes, Lord."

"Tell me my Oracle, have you yet divined the location of a nest of the beasts?"

"Regrettably, this one has not. Though I have meditated for long years and wandered deep into the mountains… I fear none live near to the city."

Wik'keer'mal intoned a hum, a real physical hum. Then opened his mouth, long unused except in sleep, and spoke.

"Perhaps, farther to the north. Near to Cuexotl and its smoking caverns."

Action Incomplete - 3 Successes Remain

Stalk Them: 1 die, Hua'Ximni.

While sails had been seen at a distance up and down the coast since the close of the last century, always just slightly too far for the Coastal Monitors to reach in good time. Frustrating proof of interlopers traipsing about the continent, doing only the Old Ones knew what.

Despoiling moldering temples. Sullying sites of mystic import. Rooting about with impunity in the lands that had been decreed to be under the stewardship of the Lizardmen by the Old Ones.

Were it in their power to deny, none of the Slann or their Skink servants would have let the matter pass without answer for even a moment, but as in all things in the shadow of their former empire it had not been in their power. Once the harbor expansion had finished and the matter of the expedition to Lustria concluded it would be. But for the time being the coldblooded masters of the continent had instead to rely entirely upon luck and good fortune.

As it happened, circumstances arranged themselves nicely only a decade and a half into the new century.

Sails were sighted again, by a patrol edging the boundary between territory that had once belonged to Nahuantl and that of Zlatlan, but this time rather than disappearing into some hidden cove or disappearing again over the horizon they instead grew. Word raced back to the city. Then raced out again and the jungle came alive with sprawling movements of patrols.

The unknown ships were watched from shore by myriad eyes and their every movement reported back. When they landed it was known and when the first of their ships' company disembarked, confirming at last it was the itza'xa'khanx of Ulthuan, that knowledge too made its way into star chambers to be whispered into the ears of meditating Slann. More orders went out.

Watching eyes shrank bank, pulling away from the apparent paths of the itza'xa'khanx to avoid any possibility of meeting.

Three ships they had come in, tall things of fine wood and broad sails with two rows of oars a side, painted in bright shades of blue with fine carvings decorating the hull. Across each prow the figure of some dark bird spread itself, as if in flight swooping down to snatch prey, while the railings flowed in thin irregular lines like banks of fog — topped by ornaments hewn in the shape of every phase of the moon imaginable. Though each day some parties from the ships ranged out they never went far, always each night returning to the safety of their vessels.

For the purposes of the Lizardmen this posed some difficulty, for it meant the most opportune time to infiltrate the vessels themselves was during the day when the greatest part of the company was about. But that also robbed the chameleon skinks of the greater part of their advantages. Though their hides could camouflage them in deep foliage and at a distance, under the steady illumination of the sun and without appropriate cover their gifts did not do nearly so well. Still, each of the surviving Chameleon Skinks in Zlatlan were superlative examples of their breed, survivors of hundreds of battles with the vilest foes, and well practiced in stealth.

This would simply be the latest test of their talents.

And so on five shallow canoes the entire company of Skinks went out, led by the eldest of their number Hua'Ximni. They approached until the ships were just around the bend, obscured by a dense growth of mangroves, a distance longer than even Hua'Ximni could shoot their blowpipe, and then one by one and with preternatural quiet they each slipped into the water.

It took over an hour to swim the distance, only daring to break the surface for moments at a time to renew their breath. No hint or clue of their presence could be let slip so early. Eventually they reached the ships and with agonizing slowness crept up the sides until their heads just crested the waters.

For the next three days they remained there, limpeted to the side of the hulls. Overhearing only the occasionally raised voice and observing the routines and patterns of the ships only by sound. Twice they had to dodge inspections of the outer hull; not a sign of suspicion, but simply the regular maintenance that must be done to keep any ship of size in good order.

On the night of the third day they crept further up the side of the ships, in ones and twos as openings presented themselves.

Not all made it aboard a ship. And those would cling to the side of the vessel until the infiltration was complete. But those that did quickly found themselves some place to hide; either high up in the folds of the furled sails, in shadows of crates and barrels, or in corners piled with rope and spare cloth.

They overheard many conversations over the days they spent in hiding, only occasionally shifting positions when it proved absolutely necessary. Much the Skinks did not understand, the language taught to them by the Slann long since altered into only bare recognizability by time but they learned enough to begin to piece together some truths.

Ulthuan had been hard hit by the Great Catastrophe; there were frequent allusions to the wreckage of the war and the results of its prosecution upon the Kingdoms of the isle.

The itza'xa'khanx had since recovered though and built themselves to new heights. Places and territories were named which appeared on no map ever seen by Lizardmen eyes. Some speak of explorations of lands to the east and west of Ulthuan and even colonies being established there.

Some great upheaval occurred in the political hierarchy of the itza'xa'khanx as the sailors spoke not of the Everqueen which had been known to Lord Wik'keer'mal but rather of a Phoenix King. Always though in comparison to the previous one.

Whether these comparisons were favorable or unfavorable was uncertain, the intricacies of the language escaped the Skinks.

Towards the end of a week's time, Hua'Ximni took the largest risk possible and during the day shook themself loose from their hiding place. With great care and patience they snuck down, avoiding the heavy and clumsy footfalls of the wandering sailors, and stole into what by all indications were the quarters of the master of this expedition.

It was late in the day by the time they managed it. Time was thus short. With some haste they proceeded to rifle through the various belongings of the inhabitant in search of clues; mostly they turned up only the mundane records such an expedition inevitably produced and writings on the subject of magic penned by the hand of itza'xa'khanx. Things of minor interest but not great value.

Just as time was running out, Hua'Ximni found a scrap of paper fallen beneath the desk. A faint taste of magic lingered upon its surface, thus it presented to great a risk to carry away but the Chameleon Skink memorized its contents.

Then with great dexterity they scrambled onto the ceiling above the door just as the occupant of the room returned, stealing out right over their head and quickly scurrying over the side of the ship and down into the water. Soon followed the others.

When at last the company of Skinks had made its way laboriously back to Zlatlan and their report was delivered, Hua'Zimni reproduced a perfect copy of the scrap from memory. It took the efforts of Lord Wik'keer'mal himself to translate the entirety of its contents. It read thus;


… in agreement. But it matters not. Even if it has been moved across the continent, you must retrieve the artifact. It is vital for my endeavors.

You know the stakes. Do not fail me.

It went unsigned.

Action Completed. Information gained.

Meet them with Talk: 1 die, 1 Personal die

Armed and armored with information, half certainty and half supposition, a procession of Saurus and Skinks went out from Zlatlan; at their head the priest Gif'a-Gahb rode atop a mighty stegadon, with an honor guard of four Temple Guards marching beside. Two more of the mighty warbeasts trailed after and their footsteps set the earth trembling.

For the weeks they travelled deep into the jungle. At every step met by far ranging patrols bringing back news of the movements of the itza'xa'khanx. At last the itza'xa'khanx had strayed farther from their landing site than a half a day's travel and spent the night in a hastily made camp beneath the stars. Searching for something in the jungles, or perhaps searching for some manner of sign or portent.

Then they were pulling up their camp and returning aboard their ships and setting sail again. But they did not go far, or anywhere in fact. Rather the ships pulled out into slightly deeper waters and held position.

Gif'a-Gahb contemplated this and determined that they had been warned by some manner of divination of the coming host, though quite clearly precise details had eluded whoever amongst their number had seen the signs. With a gesture the entire column once again returned to the march. On the twenty-third day out from Zlatlan they reached a suitable distance from the place where the itza'xa'khanx had landed and scouts spied the ships still out at sea.

Pulled ever farther from shore, in fact.

Which would not do.

Taking their honor guard, a handful of their own attendants, and the mighty beast they had ridden Gif'a-Gahb approached the landing site and stopped just as they cleared the line of trees. With a gesture one of the attendant Skinks then raised a banner emblazoned the glyph of focus overlaid atop the glyph of the moon. The bulk of the stegadon and the bright color of the banner should serve to draw attention to their presence, but if that were not enough the priest then raised their staff and began gathering power.

Slowly in the skies out beyond the mouth of the small bay there grew a fierce wind as the clouds darkened and an ominous charge filled the air. The threatening storm did not come though, instead the wind simply built and built, driving the waters into greater and greater fury and slowly driving the ships back into the bay. Once the ships were again firmly within the confines of the bay Gif'a-Gahb released their spell.

The winds stilled and the waters settled. But the message could not be mistaken. A meeting was required.

Despite their blatant desire, it still took just over two hours for the itza'xa'khanx to respond. There were no attempts to depart and at the end of that time a smaller boat was put into the water and immediately headed for the beach directly ahead of the priest.

Gif'a-Gahb observed the party that disembarked with curiosity; by description it was comprised of only a handful of individuals, equally mixed amongst the sexes which had been detailed by Lord Wik'keer'mal. It was an arrangement whose purpose eluded the priest, but they did not dare question the intent of the Old Ones. Whatever the reason for the strange method of growth it was not theirs to wonder.

The party stopped a short ways away, close enough to be heard but far enough away they might be able to reach their boat before violence was brought to them. Sensible. None of the itza'xa'khanx made any move to speak.

Assessing? Or perhaps attempting to establish dominance? It mattered not, Gif'a-Gahb had been given the duty to speak with these creatures and speak they would.

"Greetings!" They called out. "Welcomed you are under a banner of peace. Know that you now stand in the lands and countries given over into our care by the Gods Most High."

Though the Slann of Zlatlan had ably parsed out the meaning of the distorted tongue of the itza'xa'khanx, it had been judged that owing to a lack of diverse vocabulary it was better to use the older version. Both were mutually intelligible to one another, if not with ease.

After a long moment, and some hurried dialogues amongst the party, one of the itza'xa'khanx spoke up at last. One of the females, if Gif'a-Gahb was not mistaken, who had the air of a wielder of the winds about her.

"Hail, what manner of creature speaks now?"

They spoke slowly, as if unused to such words or uncertain of the listener's comprehension. Understandable.

"We are the First Servants, whose masters, the Gods Most High, crafted the world. You speak now in this moment to Gif'a-Gahb, Priest of the Heavens. And who answers across the gulf?"

It was a challenge to be sure, attempting to conduct such a discussion through a language it was evident neither participant spoke with regularity, but it presented the best possibility of understanding. And through such avoiding unnecessary bloodshed.

"Speaking now is Cicedhya, an explorer of fair Ulthuan. Why come you to confront us now upon this shore?"

At last, the formalities of introduction were completed. Now could the true work begin.

What did Gif'a-Gahb say?

[] [MESSAGE] That Cicedhya and her ships were unwelcome upon these shores and should depart immediately, upon pain of death.
[] [MESSAGE] That Cicedhya and her ships were trespassing upon territories watched by the Lizardmen of Zlatlan, and they would know their intent.
[] [MESSAGE] That Cicedhya and her folk were the first of their people they had seen in many centuries and they were invited to return to Zlatlan, there to have an audience with Lord Wik'keer'mal.
[] [MESSAGE] Write-in.

Did Gif'a-Gahb ask any questions?

[] [Q] No.
[] [Q] Yes.
-[] [Q] Write-in Questions.

Note: And here we are, the first real event break out. Depending on what exact choices you make it should last between 2 and 3 more parts. Second half of the turn to come after.