Tehenhauin, Prophet of Sotek

Warning: This substory contains: Furries (subcategory: Scalies) and **** (subcategory: Non-sexualised, but brutal). If you wish to turn back, press the back button. If you wish to read on, look down the page.

Your eyes open, for the first time in centuries. You are Tehenhauin, Sotek's prophet on this mortal plane, freshly reincarnated with one goal: to track down Archaon and tear his heart from his chest as an offering. You have just been freshly spawned, yet retain all the knowledge of your past lives: a unique situation for any Lizardman, and one only made possible by your status as Sotek's prophet.

You look down at your body. Being waist-deep in the spawning-pool's water, it's easy enough to make out your face, once the ripples have died down.

It's pretty standard for your new forms: blue skin; a red, sail-like crest; red "warpaint" (actually, it's skin markings, as anyone trying to wash it off will discover); and, while you can't see it, you know you've got red back-scales.

Down below the water's surface, your tail is idly flicking away at the broken shards of mural, and your sacrificial dagger lies, sunlight shimmering off the obsidian, at the bottom of the pool, while your other dagger sits snugly inside a scale-concealed slit.

You duck under the water and grab your knife, before hauling yourself from the spawning-pool and looking around. Hmm... you've been reincarnated, not in your former home of Chaqua, nor in an inhabited city. Well then, there's not going to be anyone around to tell you where you are, help you kill Archaon, or even just give you a loincloth.

You start to climb up the side of one of the temples to get a better look at the surrounds, to try to work out where you are.

It's a long climb, and by the time you reach the top of the temple, you're croaking with need for water, and the sun is beginning to set. Even as one of the jungle's native denizens, you can't ignore the heat. Luckily, at the top of the temple is a deep pool of water, kept miraculously clear despite the abandonment of the temple - the temple must be dedicated to Tzunki, the Old One of the water. You crawl over (stupid ziggurat steps, why couldn't they put some smaller ones in for the Skinks? Not everyone could levitate) to the pool and gulp down the cool water (again, must be blessed, otherwise it wouldn't be so cool) before standing up and looking out across the temple-city.

The city was, as normal for an abandoned temple-city, filled with temples, Saurus barracks, monuments, and Skink barrios, all in varying states of collapse. The barrios were worst, being made mainly from mud and reeds, but centuries of wear would break down even the mighty stone blocks of the temples.

Beyond the temple-cities boundaries, to the north-west, separated by only a short stretch of jungle (a short walk for a Lizardman, a day's march for a warmblood), lay the ocean, which fed into the canals that weaved through the city, past the monuments and temples, forming a web of magical energies.

You lie down in the setting sun, stretching out to catch the last few rays. After all, no sense exploring while it's dark.