Editing Tarred and Feathered (section)

=== Timed events ===
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{{TErow| 1 | AI - minus res | freq = 1 | loc=(AI)|effect=-500 {{Mercury}} [[Mercury]], -500 {{Sulfur}} [[Sulfur]], -500 {{Crystal}} [[Crystal]], -500 {{Gem}} [[Gems]]}}
{{TErow| 1 | AI - bonus gold, wood, sulfur | freq = 1 | loc=(AI)|effect=+25000 {{Gold}} [[Gold]], +20 {{Wood}} [[Wood]], +20 {{Ore}} [[Ore]]}}
{{TErow| 1 | Expedition | {{h|Henrietta|0=}}: I don't know what I had hoped for when we set out on this expedition. Flying in the sky felt just so thrilling to me... Everything about it seemed magical, and the land below appeared amazing and mysterious, even if it was a lifeless, bare, eggshell-like wasteland. Here, on these islands, I guess I was expecting to see something extraordinary—but once the crumpled blue sheet of sea ended beneath us and we began soaring over the jungle, I just couldn't see anything anymore. All I could make out was some muddy greenness, almost entirely hidden beneath clumps of damp fog. Silence. Clouds above and a billowing haze below. [[Wynona]] had spent days excitedly telling me of the natural wonders she had once seen on the [[Dagger Wound Islands]] across the sea, but now she too appeared sad and quiet. With such low visibility, we couldn’t even chart maps.<p>Our airships thrashed their propellers through the humid, sticky air, surely and with a good rhythm. They were of a new, mass-produced model, with thick fabric ballonets and reliable engines powered by liquid fuel distilled from ground oil. [[Frederick]] could barely contain his admiration as he showed me the first batch’s lead ship, his eyes glistening; it had been a long time since I'd seen him like this. Probably not since we lived back in [[Eeofol]]. He was shaking his fist frantically and rambling on about how this model didn’t require any priceless magical artifacts and thus would revolutionize life on the planet; how [[Enroth (planet)|Enroth]] had shrunk to the size of an orange overnight; and how getting to another continent would soon be as easy as taking a pony cart to the next village for the fair. Except we had yet to do reliability, resource, and range tests first... I had, that is. With this caravan. And, of course, anything could happen to us on the road—but I really didn't mind. The more land fell under [[Burton]]'s control and the farther away new [[factory]] towns grew, the less often I was able to personally go out on recon missions, and the more time I had to spend studying scout reports, making plans, and talking to other decision-makers. Practicing in war games with my subordinates, too... yes, scouts were considered part of the armed forces of the [[New Land Commonwealth]]—that’s how the union of our cities was named in official documents. [[Terra Nova]]—words from some forgotten language of the scribes. I don't know how or from where the knowledge of it spread, but it was becoming more and more common lately to hear words or whole phrases in this solemn-sounding tongue among the [[artificer]].<p>"Regia solis erat sublimibus alta columnis," I muttered to myself, trying to make out anything down below. Something about the manner of our flight had changed ever so slightly in the last hour, as if the ship was having a hard time maintaining altitude, and the whirring of the engine had become kind of strained. The sailor on watch came up to me, his dirty face looking worried.<p>'''[[Boris]]: '''“Chief, the ballonets’ fabric is sucking up water like a pump. It's too wet in here. We're losing altitude, and the fuel’s barely burning; the smoke’s chock full of soot.”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “Roger that, [[Boris]]. You go and see what's going on with the thrust bearings; something is creaking in the shafting, while I...”<p>The next minute, an arrow hit the deck between us. I darted to the side; as we talked, our ship had lost so much altitude that our keel was almost scraping against the treetops! Only now could I make out a thing in this green sea. A mess of tall, crooked, twisted trunks, like a solid hedge. Over the muffled coughing of the engine, the sounds of the land rumbled: rustling, gurgling, chattering, squeaking... and I swear I could hear crazed cries coming from hundreds of mouths, as well as the roaring of some very big creatures. Arrows were flying out of the forest; most of them were launched with not nearly enough force to reach our ship, but a few did hit the sides and deck. Heavy, long, sharp arrows with motley plumage.<p>“Dump the ballast! Now! We've got to gain altitude!", I shouted and rushed down to the faucets on the lower deck. We had taken on water as ballast, and now it had to be let out.<p>As I went down the gangway—facing forward, as [[Boris]], a seaman with decades of experience, had taught me—huge shadows flickered around our ship. I heard growls, hisses, the shouts of my frightened crew, and finally, the crackling as our balloon tore. Just moments earlier, we were still flying—granted, we were losing altitude and barely moving the propellers, but still waddling through the air—and now we were going down. No idea where to. No idea how far the ground and what is down there. All I wanted was to survive this.</p>}}
{{TErow| 2 | Snakes and [[Dreadnought]]s | {{h|Henrietta|0=}}: What a surprising place this was. No, not pleasantly surprising; quite the opposite. Many of us, the survivors of the crash, might not have made it even to the next morning; this damp, reeking forest felt not merely hostile, but plain full of hate towards us, as if in retaliation for our airship having made a huge clearing in the crash, knocking over dozens of giant trees—I couldn't even begin to imagine how old they were. Luckily, the wood of these giants was moist and soft; they broke upon colliding with our ship’s strong hull and slowed down our fall, helping us involuntarily to make a relatively soft crash landing. Alas, there were fatalities. Six crew members had gone missing—probably fell overboard during the fall. Wounds and contusions claimed the lives of another four. In the first hours after the wreck, we lost two more sailors—some swift beast dragged one off into the bushes and we never saw him again, and the other got bitten by a snake he failed to notice in the grass and died almost instantly.<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “Attention here! Back away from the bushes and trees, immediately! Anyone who doesn't have a job assigned, go to the ship and stay there!” - [[Wynona]]'s voice rang out.<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: I had banged my head pretty hard against the bulkhead during the fall, so I was lagging behind on my commands, not to mention that I had not the slightest idea what to expect from this place. Hadn't it been for my unexpected companion and her vast knowledge, our expedition might have ended this very night, for the simple reason of all its participants’ death. But no: while I was coming to, the dark elf all action, showing the men which trees could be cut down and which ones should never be approached, where and from what to make fires, how to tie and trim clothes to prevent dangerous small critters from reaching the body, how to get thirst-quenching liquid from thick snakelike vines, and whatnot. My vision was blurry, and it looked as though there were three or four [[Wynona]]s running around the camp at once, barking orders, encouraging, slapping the slow learners, swinging axes, and blowing up stinking smoky bonfires to keep insects away. At length the elf, puffing noisily, plopped down beside me on a log. In her hand there was an outlandishly disgusting-looking centipede—[[Wynona]] was biting through its shell rings and sucking something out. Hadn't I hurled back while we were still falling, I surely would do it now—though it would seem that anyone who had enjoyed eating freshly taken out, hot, earthy and ironey [[armadillo]] liver should not be sheepish about any kind of exotic outdoorsy food.<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “How you feeling, commander? Let me take a look at you. Oh, your eyes are all red, not a good sign after a head injury.”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}:“I'll live, thanks. It'll pass. I'm not dizzy anymore, and, uh, not even nauseous.”<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “Well, thank the gods for that. Listen, we can't stay here. We've crashed in the worst place imaginable—there's a huge anthill and some “witch cauldrons”—those are pits brimming with snakes. And just about everything I've seen here—at least what I've recognized—is as poisonous as my ex-mother-in-law's tongue. Back while we were still up, I saw a cleaner, drier area to the east of here.<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “So that's where we'll go. Thank you. If not for your knowledge and skill, we’d…”<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “Don't mention it. I knew this could happen, and that's another reason why I asked you to take me on. By the way, I saw something else—might be important. Remember that huge, bloated bubble of a ship that flew behind us?”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: ”Yeah, that's an experimental cargo model. It's got two gondolas, one for the engine and one for the hold.”<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “Now listen: I saw this hold part fall off from its balloon and come apart in the air, and from it some metal hulks fell out. That ship was already flying pretty low when it happened. If those things are good for anything, we should go look for them—they may have survived the crash. I think we should check north of here.”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “Really?! Those are [[dreadnought]]s! We requisitioned them for our expedition so that they’d help us haul heavy loads when and if we decided to make a permanent camp. Well, camp or no camp, we could really use these machines right now. What if we get another visit from those... birds? Lizards? Whatever those flying things that got us in this pickle are. Let's see how they like some heat ray treatment!”</p>}}
{{TErow| 3 | [[Tlamac Hundred Thoughts]] | {{h|Henrietta|0=}}: These woods feel way too weird. I've long stopped fearing the dark and unfamiliar sounds, but here, when I'm standing night watch by the fire, something makes me feel very uneasy. It's as if someone’s trying to read my thoughts and put someone else's in my head...<p>Tonight I took over [[Wynona]]'s watch just before dawn. Just when you feel most sleepy... In a bid to perk up, I took out the instrument an old mechanic had made me. Back as a kid, I had tried to learn to play the whistle, a reed flute every child in [[Eeofol]] could get happy or dreamy tunes out of. Alas, I had no ear for music at all. I couldn’t even play the most basic song, one about the silly toad, that the tiniest kids aced without any trouble. Other children would mock me, I’d get angry and lash out at them, and so it went...<p>I heard the sound of this instrument one night in [[Burton]]. It was odd and unlike anything I'd ever heard before; it spread over the wasteland like circles on water, and my heart fluttered to the sound. To my delight, playing it didn't require knowing notes by ear; [[Rougar]], a master at everything he did, was happy to show me how to play it, and made a smaller one for me. He called it a jaw harp.<p>I held the harp to my teeth and touched its tongue lightly. Zung… The sound flew over the clearing where we were camped. I sensed right away that something strange and unexpected was happening, but I couldn't help myself. The dark patch of forest produced a tall, vague figure; it walked toward me, as if fluctuating in resonance with the sound.<p>'''[[Tlamac]]: '''“I greet you, little woman. Once in a lifetime, a shaman can see the future—and recently it was revealed to me that you would come and change my fate. Well, I did not know it would be you exactly; but you hold the Song of the Spirits, the messenger who delivers our prayers to the gods. There can be no mistake: it was you I was waiting for.”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: The voice felt as if it sounded not in reality, but right inside my head. I was now seeing more clearly; an imposing [[Lizardman]] stood before me, girded with a tarnished, heavy gold chain. They say that [[lizardmen]] never stop growing their entire lives—and, well, I'd never seen a giant like this before. He was incredibly frail, though, the webbing of the outgrowths on his head saggy and his teeth worn down. I realized that he was not a warrior of unprecedented power, but simply a profoundly old [[lizardman]].<p>'''[[Tlamac]]: '''“[[Tlamac Hundred Thoughts]] is my name. If you don't mind, guest, I will come see you every now and then and tell you stories about myself, my people, and this place. I sense that you are hungry for knowledge, and I know you will need it if you are to survive here and find what you so desire.”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “What I… desire?”<p>'''[[Tlamac]]: '''“You are lonely, little woman. You may not know it yourself, but your heart doesn't want to be alone. You fear that you may have misjudged those you have come to think of as close ones, and you may well be right. Fear not; you have already found a friend in me, and you will find new ones. Some close by, and others where... But we'll talk about that some other time. Come see me in my hut. I will tell you what you will find in these lands and help you understand how.”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: I blinked a few times, speechless, and when I opened my eyes wide again, there was no one there. Just the dark forest and the glow of the fire. I looked back. [[Wynona]] was standing a few feet behind me.<p>“Did you see that? Did you see him?! The one I was talking to?”<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “Hmm. Well, I definitely saw something. Mind telling me what it was? Or who? And what was that strange music? I swear, it was all I heard the whole time—not a single word. And you know I trust my ears.”</p>}}
{{TErow| 8 | Tribes of [[Lizardmen]] | [[Tlamac Hundred Thoughts]] spake:<p>Everyone in these woods has their own brand of truth. Legends say there are places where life is very different... and now that I know you, I believe that to be true. Now, when your entire world is death, who will always be more patient than you—today or tomorrow, you will surely fall its prey... But until you do, you will do anything to carve out your own little spot under the sun. Tribes have been feuding for about as long as we can remember. Once upon a time, we were peaceful. We knew many ways to survive in these woods—to find food and a place to safely sleep and breed. We had nothing to quarrel over… until there were too many of us. My tribe was called the [[Stone Children]] then—we found deep caves beneath the [[Blue Claw]] cliffs, cool and dry, and settled there. Our women gave us strong and numerous children, and it was easy for us to fend off predators and enemies. Those not fortunate enough to find such a safe haven continued to live the old way: roaming the forests and cherishing every day on which no one died or got eaten... and within them there grew jealousy and hatred for those who were able to break the eternal cycle. For us.<p>There was no unity among them; there were several tribes, each with its own leader and its own customs and ways. And there had already been spilled blood between them… yet there was one who gave them a common goal. They knew they would be at each other's throats before long, but [[Tepotl Hollow Eye]] convinced them that first they had to stand shoulder to shoulder and wipe out the insult to the very essence of our people. Us, [[Stone Children]].</p>}}
{{TErow| 9 | [[Couatl]]s | [[Tlamac Hundred Thoughts]] spake:<p>Back in those days, warriors knew honor. We could have stayed in our caves, protected by their walls. Still, chieftain [[Pichi Red Cloud]] brought his army out of the ground and began to prepare for battle. Our warriors were strong and skillful with sword and club... but [[Tepotl]] had the bows. One of his eye sockets was empty—it was said that he got his eye torn out by a claw of a great feathered serpent. No one had ever survived a meeting with this creature, the strongest and most dangerous being of our legends—the [[Couatl]]. It made no difference whether [[Tepotl]] had indeed fought one or had simply made up a tall tale to inspire awe in others. His other eye saw well, too well. Not only had he mastered this insidious weapon himself, but he had also trained several hundred warriors in shooting bows. Their bows were weak and they were poor shots, but they still took out half of our best warriors even before they reached their ranks.<p>Each of our men fought as if he were possessed by the spirit of [[Quetzal]] himself, but it was not nearly enough. They fell, and a dozen enemies pounced upon each one who did, tearing our tribe’s best limb from limb, devouring their hearts, defiling and pillaging their bodies. The battle was not yet over, yet already the strife had begun among them, and here and there on the blood-soaked field skirmishes and squabbles were flaring up. But the [[Hundred Crawlers]], [[Tepotl]]’s bodyguards, all mighty giants, each of whom had cut out an eye to look like his leader, kept coming at the remnants of our army. Before long, they were bound to break into our caves and put an end to the [[Stone Children]]. And then my ancestor, the great shaman [[Hoatzin Rock Mind]], did what he had been preparing for all his life. He plunged a knife into his chest, chanted a spell, and turned his mind to the [[Great Serpent]]. His son, [[Xochi]], yet to earn himself a proper shaman’s name back then, pulled the blade out of his father's body, and the gushing blood sparkled red rainbow in the rays of the setting sun. From the heavens came a many-voiced roar. The [[Couatl]]s accepted [[Hoatzin]]'s sacrifice and fell upon our enemies.<p>[[Bloodied Feathers]]. That was the name the remnants of my tribe took after that battle. The [[Feathered Serpent]]s bathed in the blood of the [[Crawlers]] and their allies, and my kin dedicated the future of the tribe to their saviors. There were too few survivors in [[Tepotl]]'s army to continue living as separate tribes. They have been called the [[Nightcrawlers]] ever since, and their whole life is tracking and hunting us and our living gods.</p>}}
{{TErow| 14 | Pirates and Slavers | [[Tlamac Hundred Thoughts]] spake:<p>A hundred great turns of the firmament ago, we believed that our islands were the whole world and we, the [[Bloodied Feathers]], were its rulers. Since then, we have learned many things that have shattered our ideas as to the order of the universe... In olden times, we shied away from the [[Bitter Waters]], as they burned our skin, and only when dire need could make us board our chiseled boats and travel between the islands. After the feathered gods came into our lives, we could ask them to carry us across the waters, and we were no longer afraid to travel the islands. However, we never saw any other land than our own, even if we flew up into the sky, hugging the neck of a [[Couatl]].<p>Even long after we left the [[Halls of Blood]], we never suspected that there were other sentient beings beyond the [[Bitter Waters]], though our legends had it that there was another land somewhere, inhabited by those like us, and that the kin of our gods dwelt there as well. We remained ignorant until an enormous boat came to our shores, one like we had never seen before. Strange, bare trees grew straight out of it, and huge, tattered cloths hung from its branches.<p>We watched the beings who had gotten off the big boat. Their stay at the islands was not long; they cut down a few trees, trimmed them, fitted them to holes in the sides of their vessel, and went away. I spent several weeks thinking about what I had seen and trying to explain the event to my tribesmen, but that was not enough time to form an opinion about the creatures I had seen. One day, several boats like the first one appeared at sea; three of them carried black cloths, and two others, dirty and sluggish, looked somewhat different. They were propelled by long oars. That day, I realized that there was no peace outside our land. Of course, it would be ridiculous to hope for that; sentient beings always have scores to settle with each other, and the more of them living nearby, the stronger the desire to go for it. Several dozen bound men were brought to shore from the oar-boats. Others, like those who had come here the first time, made pens of logs, and the prisoners were placed there, driven on with blows and kicks. After a few days, other boats came and took them away, and ever since then, the ships would keep coming and going, and there was never a shortage of live goods in the pens.<p>In the old days of the [[Bloodied Feathers]], we would never have tolerated such neighbors. Our customs abhor imprisonment; we either kill a defeated enemy at once or release him if honor or higher considerations demand it. What we saw was repugnant to our whole being... but now we were weak and had to think of our future. To make new enemies whose strength and powers we had no idea of would be unacceptable. The eternal war with the [[Crawlers]] alone was straining enough... The uninvited guests never tried to get deep into our land, and we simply decided that we would avoid them. It was only much later that we learned that our enemies, much less scrupulous about their ties, had entered into dealings with the strangers.<p>A few years ago, I first saw creatures like you, little woman, among the slaves who were brought here on ships. Before I met you, I thought they were cubs; but now I realize that the slave traders had never brought any children here. Apparently, they can't survive the journey across the [[Bitter Waters]]. There are a few like you languishing in the slave pens even now...</p>}}
{{TErow| 19 | [[Crimson Couatl]]s | [[Tlamac Hundred Thoughts]] spake:<p>The great serpents deigned to us and accepted us as their junior kin. Over time we learned more about how our saviors lived; they even allowed our shamans into the secluded valleys where they made their nests. To our great surprise, the synergy of the [[Crawlers|Creepers']] hot blood and [[Hoatzin]]’s magic gave the feathers of the [[Couatl]]s who fought in that battle a permanent crimson hue. No one ever thought it was possible to change a god. No one could’ve imagined that a god could be made stronger—and not by prayer or sacrifice... The crimson-colored [[Couatl]]s became different. They no longer waited for offerings, perched upon their nests with an aura of blessing about them; they went out to hunt for the hearts of our enemies. Unstoppable they were, their feathers throwing back arrows and swords, and their fangs and claws bringing death.<p>Blood, sorcery and heat. [[Xochi]] the shaman realized that what had happened on the battlefield could be reproduced. He spent his life trying to penetrate the mystery of this transformation. As he was dying, he gave his son an egg, over which he had been casting spells for years in a deep cave, smoky from the fires and stinking of rotten blood and cinders. The minute his spirit departed to meet [[Quetzal]], a clatter was heard from within the egg. A new [[Crimson Couatl]] was about to see this world.<p>Three more generations passed. The [[Bloodied Feathers]] had left the caves where our tribe had survived everything—hunger, frost, raids of countless enemies, disease... We moved to a new underground city, next to a fire-breathing mountain. Its vast halls were roomy enough for the feathered serpents and hot enough to turn tending to the eggs with the [[Crimson Couatl]]s into a challenge that even a shaman's apprentice could tackle. With such even, constant heat, all he had to do was turn them over from time to time, pour blood brewed with sorcerous herbs, and feed them his energy through long-learned incantations, the very ones that [[Xochi Serpent Brother]] had created. We ruled over two-thirds of the islands, continued to push the [[Crawlers]] back and never suspected that fate was about to turn its underside towards us....</p>}}
{{TErow| 20 | [[Tlamac]]'s Story | [[Tlamac Hundred Thoughts]] spake:<p>We could no longer live where our gods were absent; each of the Bloodied Feathers needed to pray at least once a day, clinging to the body of a [[Couatl]], or lose strength. [[Lizardmen]] do not take well to intense, dry heat, but the grace of the great serpents was enough for ourselves to feel healthy. What was worse, our wives began laying more and more barren clutches... and even the scarce fertile eggs bore very few females. In just three generations after we moved to the [[Halls of Blood]], our tribe had halved in number.<p>Chief [[Titipan Two-Tailed]] did what he had to do. He brought a curse upon himself, but he saved his tribe from degeneration. His band stormed the shaman's halls, slaughtered all who got in the way, and destroyed all the eggs, and then [[Titipan]] led the tribe out of the hot caves and back into the stone tunnels beneath the [[Blue Claw]]. In the days that followed, many died, unable to endure being separated from their lost gods. Among them was [[Chief Titipan]] himself; in his dying hours, he wept and begged the [[Great Serpent]] for forgiveness and mercy. [[Quetzal]] heeded his plea: those who survived were able to live on with the connection to the [[Couatl]]s severed, without their blessings... but also without having to sacrifice their future for the sake of the present.<p>[[Titipan]]'s bodyguards outsmarted not only the shamans but also the [[Couatl]]s themselves. They had only love and reverence in their souls, so the great serpents failed to sense danger when the warriors, who were hugging their necks and whispering the sacred words of worship, suddenly drew their long knives and slaughtered their gods in an instant—adults, young ones, new hatchlings, and the decrepit ones who no longer left their nests... No one who had raised his hand against a god survived even an hour afterwards; grief killed each one. There was only one tiny hall they had not found; no one knew of it except the direct descendants of [[Hoatzin]] and [[Xochi]]. In this hall, in a light shoulder basket, there lay a few eggs; [[Serpent Brother]] had willed his children to keep them here, no matter what happened or what hardships fell upon the tribe. A young shaman's apprentice, clutching a wound in his side, entered the hall, put the basket on his back with a hiss, and slipped into a secret passage, collapsing it behind him. It was a hundred great turns back. That apprentice's name was [[Tlamac]]. He stands before you today.</p>}}
{{TErow| 25 | [[Halfling]] | {{h|Henrietta|0=}}: We were walking along the path that [[Tlamac]]'s friends had pointed out to us as a relatively safe one, even for those who had not spent their entire lived in the jungle. We could relax a little here; trying to stay on top of every rustle and shadow was profoundly wearisome, after all. I, however, could not afford such a luxury, as the commander must always be on the lookout. I had begun getting the hang of these woods, and many things previously hidden from me were no longer escaping my attention—but this time, I would have stomped by, never learning the most important thing in my life... if it hadn't been for [[Wynona]]. The [[dark elf]]'s ear twitched, and the next instant she was leaping into the bushes with a dagger drawn. After a few seconds of tussle, she dragged out... a [[halfling]]. He was gray-haired, emaciated, and clad in some rags. I examined his body and hands first, trying to decide if he could pose any danger, and only then did I look at his face. It was like another strike of lightning from [[Frederick]]'s dynamo. A blast from the past. A memory I thought erased.<p>“Unc… [[Uncle Kett]]...?”<p>'''[[Kett]]: '''“I used to go by that too... [[Moonchild]]?!”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “[[Kett]]! It's me. Me! [[Henrietta]]! What moon child? Have you forgotten me?”<p>'''[[Kett]]: '''“How could one forget you? That's just what I'm saying. Never thought it'd be you who I’d see before croaking. Just hoped to tell someone. We're fighting. Not all of us have become [[demon]] meat yet. There's a war going on.”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “What war? The [[devil]]s are upon someone again? I heard they had gotten served in [[Erathia]]. And who's ‘we’?!”<p>'''[[Kett]]: '''“We... the ones who stayed behind when you left. Some call us guerrillas, others like ‘cave rats’ more... heh, heh, damn right, we do bite. And when we do, it stings. And you… ohhhh.”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “[[Uncle Kett]]! What's wrong? [[Wynona]]! He's barely breathing!”<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “Look here, [[Henrietta]]. This wound... and this one... If there was any time at all, I could try to drain the infection out of them and reconnect the vessels. I'm sorry, but it's too late now. He's dying. Here’s all I can do...”<p>[[Wynona]] gave the dying man a whiff of some elixir, and his eyes opened. Gasping, the [[halfling]] mumbled:<p>'''[[Kett]]: '''“Listen to me, [[Henrietta]]... [[Erathia]] and [[AvLee]] have invaded [[Eeofol]] and are fighting the [[devil]]s. We wanted to help, so we gathered everyone who could hold a weapon from all our hideouts. Our squad attacked a coastal town of the [[Kreegan]]s—we snuck in there through an undercroft, and then we got betrayed. [[Olema]], the cursed half-breed... sent those who survived the battle to [[Kreelah]], for [[Lucifer]]’s pleasure, but the ship got sunk by [[pirate]]s... I made it out alone...”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: [[Kett]] started wheezing horribly and rolling his eyes back. I grabbed his head and gave him a shake:<p>"[[Uncle Kett]]! Unc… Please, breathe, don't go... Your squad? Were there others? And all of them died?”<p>'''[[Kett]]: '''“Ahhh… [[Moonchild]]... How good to have seen you... Please forgive. I beg you for everyone who... Your... your mother's name was [[Auna]]. Ask [[Tavin]] about her…”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “[[Tavin]]? [[Tavin]]'s alive?! [[Kett]]! [[Kett]]!”<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “He's gone, my friend. Let him rest. He earned it”.<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: I sat on the ground with the old man's head in my lap, swallowing bitter tears. There were no words.<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “I think I know where we're going when we get off these islands.”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “[[Wynona]], I–”<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “You know it full well yourself. I've only known you a short time, but I've learned a lot about you. Your heart is where you were born. [[Eeofol]] has lived in your soul all these years. I don't know that place, but it must be beautiful. To bring freedom to your land—what a goal for a true warrior!”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “Do you think I'm a warrior too?”<p>{{h|Wynona|0=}}: “‘Too’? You mean there are others who say so? Well, then it's time to accept your calling.”<p>{{h|Henrietta|0=}}: “I need to think about it. Maybe [[Tlamac]] can help me understand myself…”</p>}}
{{TErow| 32 | [[Pactal]]'s Lair | [[Tlamac Hundred Thoughts]] spake:<p>[[Pactal Child Eater]] is a great leader. Surprised to hear me talk of him so, aren’t you? I am simply way too old to let hatred cloud my judgment. He is strong and flexible, as hard and sharp as a bloodsucker frog's tooth, but his mind is malleable and receptive to anything that might benefit his tribe. Your airboats were attacked by his [[wyvern]]s—I don't know where [[Pactal]] found them, and he certainly doesn't worship them like we worshiped the [[Couatl]]s... but somehow he's managed to levy such powerful creatures, unheard of in our lands, into his service, and not just them. He was able to make fighters out of the dogheads, who we always thought of as vermin unworthy of even a kick—an angry shout was enough to make them scuttle into the bushes. His warriors sail between the islands in ships, fight in formation, wield weapons and use implements I have never even heard of, and he himself suddenly pops up here and there, and never sleeps in the same field camp two nights in a row. As if he were able to see his enemies' plans two steps ahead. I know something about him, however...<p>[[Pactal]] wants to claim all of the islands—if not for himself, then for his son. A few years ago, he stole the clutch laid by the fifth wife of the [[Bloodied Feathers]]’ old chieftain, but contrary to his custom, he left some of the eggs uneaten. He is raising one of the girls, intending to marry her; children by her will be his key to unlimited power over all the [[lizardmen]] of our islands. And I am not convinced that it would be a bad future for my kin...<p>Anyway, if you are to snatch the [[Hollow Eye]] from [[Pactal]], you will have to find the place where the [[Child Eater]] is keeping his future wife. Surely that's where he spends all his time between his campaigns. Old [[Tlamac]] has friends among the unseen spirits of the woods and marshes. Listen to what they told me…<p>Only the select few [[Pactal]] has no doubts about can enter his lair. Those are the commanders of his guard, and there is also one pirate captain, the one who sold him the [[Hollow Eye]], who enjoys such trust. Fortunately for you, the [[lizardmen]] have a very poor memory for human faces... They recognize the captain by his armor, shield, trident, and crown, all intricate artifacts of great power. I think you could try to find similar ones. If one of your warriors appears before the guards wearing them, they will take him for the captain and allow him to enter. They will demand that the artifacts be handed over to them for safekeeping, but at that point, that will no longer matter.</p>}}
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