Tl’uk stood, arrayed around the meeting structure in the High Temple of Chotec. His army had made camp outside the city and intended to stay a day or two before marching back to Xlakana and his home.
“Tl’uk,” Itzli-Citlalli implored him from across the room, “you must listen to reason, your armies are needed in Tlacopan —”
“My army…” interrupted Tl’uk “is my own, and we are needed back in Xlakana. That is our home, that is our duty. You have said your piece, and I have denied it, why must you continue…?”
“Captain,” another skink responded, ‘surely you can see that our ancient enemy seeks to overrun Tlacopan? Not to mention the news that the Bonereapers march towards the city as well? Tlacopan needs aid, we will do what we can, but they need the help of Xlakana as well.”
It was true, and Tl’uk knew it. Still, though, his instincts roared in his head to defend the homeland, his homeland. His city was not as great as Tlacopan, it was not nearly as strategically important to order and life in the Lustrare Valley, but it was his city, his homeland. Sure, the city wasn’t in immediate danger, but who knew what those decrepit creatures had planned…
Coming out of his thoughts, sound rushed back to his mind, catching the others in a new subject, clearly, they had allowed the captain to brood, and had moved onto other issues.
“— Sorthus was unable to stop the Ossiarch on their march. He survived the ordeal, and the remainder of the army now stands behind the walls of the city, but they found the invaders strong. Very strong.’
“We cannot trust him anyway, whether Tlacopan stands or falls is largely irrelevant to him, as long as the waterways stay clear…”
“And Tlacopan is key in making sure that happens, and the prince knows that. They are on our side, there is no need to doubt their resolve.”
“I do not doubt his resolve,” Tl’uk put in, “I doubt whether or not they add anything to the battle against the Understitcher if that wretched creature decides to march on the city. They would be better used patrolling the rivers. Maybe then the Lustrare and the Huron would stay clear.”
“Well Tl’uk, why not go there… tell him that yourself…” The skink smirked at Tl’uk, knowing full well that the Old-blood would not do well with snide remarks. “That being said… the Huron does still run fairly clear. It has been quite astounding actually, the news that we are receiving from Oscoda and a few of the smaller villages on the creek. This Herwig has done a remarkable job. He and his team have successfully kept the banks relatively free of Skaven, and mobilized the people at Oscoda to clean the river when it runs past them. This seems to have resulted in the rest of the creek being fairly clean. Particularly by the time it gets to Arbor Vale and Xlakana.”
“Good, that is good news. But can he hold it by himself?”
“He needs not to do so,” another put in, “our reports indicate that Ortus Tatravellan has made his way to Oscoda. His Lumineth fought there against the horrid followers of Nurgle. News from Oscoda indicates that Tatravellan has been moving his way down the river slaughtering all who stand in his way.”
“Well, why doesn’t he go to Tlacopan?” Tl’uk asked the crested skink. “If the city needs all the help that it can get, why not the Lumineth?”
“Because,” Itzli-Citlalli put in, “they do as they wish. And we cannot seem to influence them, let alone control them. And you know this full well! We do, on the other hand, influence you… This is why you must be the one to march to Tlacopan.”
The general growled in frustration. It was true, but he did not need to tell them as much. The Lustrare suffered greatly, its waters running foul, allowing rot and ruin to creep into the Valley, destroying the jungle nearest the river. It wasn’t the only threat. It was confirmed that the corrupted Thunderdon was in fact free on the plains. Strangely though reports indicated that a host of Flesh-eaters now protected the beast, making it all the more difficult to bring down.
A massive saurus burst into the room, the door slamming against the wall, bringing Tl’uk out of his thoughts, and causing growls and flickering tails around the room.
“Priests, generals! Something very, very wrong has happened…”
It turned out, the messenger was very, very right. The vaults under the Desert of the Sun had been breached. Thankfully, it had not been found, but an artefact had been taken nonetheless. Their scouts had sent word that a score of Daughters had been found vacating the runes with a weapon in hand, a mighty blade blessed by Khaine. The Seraphon had known of this artefact for untold centuries, and, although without a hilt and thus lacking in it’s true power, had deemed it much too powerful for anyone else to possess.
“We must recover that blade at all costs!” Tl’uk said, growling his anger at having been disobeyed. The scouts had not been able to tell them exactly who had taken the artefact, but Tl’uk knew. Deep in that predator mind of his lay an instinct to hunt, to pursue, to slaughter. The rest of those arrayed about the room took up the anger, a host of growls and hisses that threw the room into an agitated state.
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Over the coming hours, the generals and leaders there at Chotec set out their battle plans. With much to do, their forces would be forced to spread thin, but if any could do it, it was the ancient protectors of order. The Lustrare needed to be cleaned, the Huron protected. The Bonereapers, forces of Chaos, and the destruction of the forests via the Thunderdon eliminated. Truly, the light of Azyr shined down on a changed Lustrare Valley. War had only just begun.
