The fire cracked in the damp jungle air. The old Frost Troll had a long horrible ache in his bones, something he never felt in the blissfully serene cold. This wet heat, this clinging thick air, almost unbreathable, he cursed it and had to stop himself from cursing the trolls that brought him here.

He prepared the ritual circle. The bodies of each of the animals that represented a diffrent loa lay arrayed peacefully at spots around the circle. He took the bowl full of each ones drained blood and poured it into a spiral closing it in the center.

Tonight the warriors and withcdoctors who proved their mettle would need the protection the loa offered. Tonight after all they were going to the golden city. Tonight they were to scout what was going on within the borders of the city, to learn of what was twisiting the once strong Gurubashi, to learn of the truth on the reports of Hakkar's trying to re-manisfest. The old troll spits on the ground for thinking of the "nameless One". He saw many of the trolls racing around the beach, jabbing at each other with spears or splashing in the waves in a playful manner. How odd to see so many tribes together, he had felt the pull, the call. Now it seemed inevitable, the Empire would come, you need only see the dancing troll women, the young warriors at play, even this old man being here in the jungle.

Tonight the scouts would feast, stories will be told of this night....