Confederacy of Tikal

There was a hiss as steel cut through the heavy green foliage of the jungle. The shapes moving through the dense brush moved with a purpose and frightening speed. Yet it was no wild Carnosaur pack but something far more dangerous that was on the prowl. The Otomi, the feared priestguard of the High Council of Tikal slowly but surely advanced towards their quarry that lingered in the distance.

Witch fire, balls of blue light, danced enticingly above the treetops. If one listened closely, it was almost as if they could hear their names being uttered on the winds, beckoning them forward. Tenoch could feel the power in this place. It pulsed in the ground, it radiated through the trees, and somewhere deep down he could feel it tugging at the depths of his soul. Yet the sorcerer was hardly a fool. He had survived the Sundering that had annihilated a world, slaughtering its inhabitants, their souls left to be feasted on by demons of the Divine Realm. He would not surrender himself to the calls of a demon, though Tenoch would have to admit that this did feel quite…different.

‘’ Magic. ‘’ His brother, Camaxtli muttered. He felt it too, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest as they approached the site. The two lizards were polar opposites of each other. While Camaxtli was a massive thing of rippling muscle and scars from past battles, his brother was only half his size. But what Tenoch lacked in size, he more than made up for with brains…and the raw power that he could harness from the Divine Realm.

‘’ It appears the villagers weren't lying. ‘’ Tenoch replied, more than one villager had disappeared in the jungle; chasing the blue globes of light and had never been seen from again. They had sent representatives to Tikal, begging for help. While conventional wisdom would’ve held that the peasants were being preyed upon by aggressive carnosaurs, it seemed that something darker was afoot.

Tenoch leaned heavily on his staff, opening himself to the Divine Realm. He felt raw power pump through his veins, his fingertips cracked with static electricity, those golden eyes now blazing a bright and ethereal blue as he prepared to confront whatever creature called this place home in the name of His Lord Citamlin.

SUMMARY:
--- Tenoch and Camaxtli with a group of Otomi warriors investigate a sacred site consecrated to a heathen god.

He ran, ran until his lungs burned, ran until his hands shook. One by one, his mob of pursuers seemed to grow less and less. A javelin narrowly missed impaling him and several arrows lay buried in the ground where his feet had touched only moments before. The forest lay ahead, the massive green foliage and brush offering him refuge from the rain of missiles that continued to pursue him. Desperately, Tenoch drew in more power, he could feel his scales crackling and his fingertips burning with electricity. But it was worth it...one moment the '' goblin '' was there, the next he was gone. Blending into the trees much to the ire of his pursuers and after hours of futile searching, the heritec patrols eventually turned back towards the village. By then, Tenoch wasn't playing the part of a '' goblin '' anymore, he had shape shifted yet again into a crook backed lizard. Just another villager hunting for mushrooms to devour or carnosaur eggs to scavenge. The sorcerer had escaped by the skin of his teeth.

Tenoch collapsed under a tree, leaning heavily on its trunk, a migraine causing every inch and corner of his head to pound. It was as if someone was beating his skull in with a hammer. No doubt if he had been caught that's exactly what the heritecs would've done had they caught him and that was what Tenoch was expecting the heritecs to do to the wretched goblin diplomat. Yet this was the price of using magic and so much of it...but the reward? Ueman was dead, the heritecs had lost their spiritual leader. Now it was time for the lizardman to assess the damage that he caused and exploit it.

It was a victory, a blow not only against those whom refused to acknowledge the one true god but the Goblins of Forgehall themselves. There could be no rapprochement with those monsters, there could be no diplomacy, there could be no negotiation. The goblins had proven themselves to be duplicitous and wicked, slaughtering the Lizardfolk, pursuing them across worlds. There would be no peace until they had been destroyed. Yet for all that, Tenoch took little pleasure in the death of Ueman. The priest had been highly respected as a priest of the Mopan, the Four gods whom watched over the lizardfolk during the Golden Age of the Empire. It was even rumored he had served in the court of great King Pacal. Yet where was Yaluk when the Sundering had torn the world asunder? Where was Kawil to protect His people when demons and monsters had been unleashed? Where was Bacab to smite the goblins, orcs, and elves?  Where was Cizin to drag the monsters into the depths of underworld? The Old Gods of Sotek were dead, gone, and buried. Ueman had been a fool and he had paid for it. Only Citalmlin offered any hope against the coming storm, the Divine Emperor had proven himself a champion for his people in the past and would be there once more to be their shield.

Slowly but surely, Tenoch rose to his feet to begin his journey once more. There was still much in the way of work to be done, the heritecs would be in disarray after the murder of Ueman...the next few weeks would be interesting to say the least... and Tenoch would have to act decisively.

SUMMARY:
-- Tenoch assasinates the heritec leader Ueman and escapes.

As they approached the small island in the middle of the swamp, the lizardfolk saw what seemed to be a makeshift shrine. A great slab of flat stone lay atop the island, and upon it stood a carved stone figure perhaps a foot tall, shaped into the image of a fat human with a strange grin on his face. Small offering had been laid about the shrine: a bowl of nuts, a wreath of flowers, a rusted knife.

Whisps of light floated around them, illuminating the dark swamp. This was obviously a place of power, and a foreign god's shrine. By the signs of weathering around them it seemed like an ancient one - some old god watched over this place, and would note their every move.

-----------------
The Old God's Shrine
This sacred site has been dedicated to an old god of unknown origin. If Tikal is to benefit from it, the shrine must be repurposed, but doing so is risky. Gods are fickle, dangerous beings, and the last thing the lizardfolk need is more enemies.

Cast Aside the False god
Citlalmin is the only god we need. We will cast aside this strange god and dedicate the shrine anew.
-- Sacred Site is devoted to Citlalmin and provides bonus Divinity as normal.
-- The Strange god is offended, and will seek ways to avenge himself.

Give a Votive Offering
A votive offering might appease this strange god, allowing us to remove his shrine without offense.
-- Give a sacrifice of 5 Gold and 2 Food to appease the strange god.
-- Sacred Site is devoted to Citlalmin and provides bonus Divinity as normal

Incorporate the Strange god
We can worship the strange god alongside Citlalmin.
-- Sacred Site does not generate divinity for Citlalmin
-- The strange god may smile upon your efforts and reward you.

Pain.

His entire world was one of pain and agony. Every bounce and bump brought a fresh snarl. Where was he? He felt as if he was floating, the swamp moving past him as if in slow motion. The chanting of a priest and the beating of a drum drew him back from the depths of unconsciousness. Was he being escorted to the afterlife? Was this his Final Journey? The drum beat again. Camaxtli tried to rise, but he found himself tied down. No, he was not dead...but where was he?'

Slowly, his surroundings began to flood in. He could smell the stench of burning flesh as the goblin dead were mutilated, their organs scattered so that their souls could not find rest, then burned. Meanwhile, the lizardfolk whom had been killed in their hundreds were also being consigned to the flames but under the direction of priests with the proper funerary rites.

Gradually, the sight of the burning pyres receded. How had he gotten here? He remembered leading the charge on the goblins, smashing through their lines and then.... she had been a demon made flesh. Camaxtli's blade had pierced her flesh again and again but it had yield no wounds. No mortal creature should have survived. How!? Pain drove the thoughts from his mind, his leg throbbing in white hot fire. While his shoulder had been set, no doubt it would take time to heal...but his leg felt as if it was a shattered mess of bone.

'' Where are you taking me!? '' The Otomi warrior raged, rising against his bindings until he went limp and passed out again.

He woke to a strange sight. Blue balls of witch fire danced above his head and a High Priest of Tikal paced back and forth, he was giving a sermon to a massive crowd.

'' MAXIMON! We call upon you to heal your champion! We bring you an offering of blood! Take these goblins whom came to Copal to slaughter and murder, end Camaxtli's suffering, reforge him stronger and mightier then he was before so that he may take the war to the goblin's home in your name and that of Citalmlin!''

A brazier was lit. It was incense now that flooded his nostrils and that of blood as the High Priest set about his bloody work. Each goblin prisoner was straddled to an altar that by the end would be soaked in blood, the hearts and the life force offered to this new god in the Tikalan Pantheon.

SUMMARY:
-- In an effort to heal the injured champion Camaxtli, the villagers take the hero to the strange shrine. The God is incorporated into the new Tikalan Pantheon, sanctioned by the High Priesthood. All Goblin prisoners are sacrificed.

Incorporate the Strange god:
We can worship the strange god alongside Citlalmin.
-- Sacred Site does not generate divinity for Citlalmin
-- The strange god may smile upon your efforts and reward you.

'' HERESY! ''

'' APOSTATE SCUM! ''

'' WE MUST HAVE WAR! ''

The Council of Tikal was in an uproar. Over a dozen voices raised, along with hisses and snarls of discontent. Ajaw Uaxmal sat in the center of the maelstrom, his gaze traveling to each of the High Priest, silently assessing his options and whom he could influence. There was Irepani, a hawk. He would not rest until Ueman's folk had been put to the sword, their heretical views stamped out. It was not Irepani or his views that worried him, he could be dealt with.

The voice that concerned Uaxmal the most was that of Kasakir. Uaxmal's chief rival on the Council and one that undoubtedly held the political clout to mount a serious challenge to Uaxmal as Defender of the Faith.

'' Kasakir.. '' The bickering voices at last fell silent as Uaxmal spoke. '' I would hear your thoughts on the matter. '' The lizardman shifted uncomfortably, suddenly under Uaxmal's penetrating gaze. He rallied under the scrutiny and dared to meet the High Priest's stare.

'' If the reports are true and Taracui has indeed been offered the crown, then he must die. He is a rebel and a traitor to the Empire. '' Kasakir stated solemnly.

'' A forest monkey would be a better candidate to sit on the Throne! '' Irepani interjected, the rage still palpable in his voice.

'' But... '' Kasakir said, leaning forward. His voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

'' What if there was another candidate to the Throne? One bound by our Lord Citalmlin's own blood? ''

'' Our Lord Citalmlin is our Eternal Emperor! '' Uaxmal snarled. '' You would dare suggest otherwise? ''

'' Citalmlin is our Lord and Our God. He is Divine, he has transcended the trappings of Kingship. '' Kasakir argued, gaining momentum with every word.

'' We, the Council, are His Voice here on the mortal plane. '' Uaxmal replied, fist curling into a ball.

'' The people need more it is clear. A figure to rally behind for the coming war. Who better than one connected to Citalmlin? One connected to the ancient Imperial bloodine of Azhuotil and Pacal the Great? '' Kasakir said, spreading his scaled hands wide.

'' It would be a direct challenge to that fool Taracui and rob him of any sense of legitimacy that the apostates gave him. ''

'' And what figure would you suggest that be? '' Uaxmal said, already knowing the answer.

'' Queen Issri of the Tecoya is the most natural candidate to be declared Empress. '' Now it was Uaxmal whom was shifting uncomfortably. If looks could kill, then Kasakir would be reduced to cinders where he stood!

'' There is little evidence that she is connected to the Imperial bloodline. '' Uaxmal countered.

'' Evidence that you have suppressed! ''

'' ENOUGH! I have heard enough heresies uttered in this chamber. '' The Otomi took threatening steps forward, halberds lowering.

'' This Council is dismissed.. '' One by one, the most powerful nobles and sorcerers of the Old Empire filed from the chamber, but one lingered behind.

'' What will you do? '' Irepani inquired at the shoulder of Uaxmal as he brooded.

'' I will see to Issri myself. Kasakir was right about one thing: a war is coming. One that will see us struggling to survive. We will need soldiers and gold to fight it. The Tecoya Clans are the only one with both. '' Uaxmal growled.. '' Even if it will come at a price. ''


SUMMARY:
-- A schism develops in the Council between Uaxmal and Kasakir over the Imperial Succession; the Council plots to deal with the traitor Taracui.