From the shadows cold eyes stare. He has taken notice of you. The once great and powerful creature still weakened has arisen and is regaining its former glory. His lessers gather their tribes to wage war in his name. The elemental lords scream in agonizing rage as their homes become prisons. A young lady who bears an old soul meets you along a road. She joins you by your campfire for the night. As you lay to sleep she whispers softly...
Sakatha once was the Great Lizard King,
Said to have power stored in a ring.
O'er swamplands and plains lands his dominions they spread;
His very name filled all creatures with dread.
To build his great tomb in the midst of the marsh,
Many men died in slavery most harsh.
His minions took all of our best for his altar;
Not for a day did his bloody thirst falter.
Then there arose the great Lance the Boar,
The greatest of heroes in those days of yore;
He slew Sakatha in the Battle of Waycombe;
The Lizard men carried their slaughtered chief home.
And now he awaits in the cold sleep of death
His day of awakening, his first newborn breath.
Though deep in the ground his followers closed him,
He'll come back for vengeance on these who opposed him.
...You awaken from this dream startled with a feeling of dread. What does this portent mean?
