Where to begin the account of the passing of a brave warrior who was not a fighter? How to begin to justify the senseless death in a game of Gods? Perhaps it is best to start in trying to comprehend the events that would lead to 4000 Lizardmen chasing a dream across the continent…

As we stood on the hilltop overlooking the Lizard army that was arrayed around Béray, I began to understand some of the zeal that would drive this mass of warriors so far to the North. I also thought that I had missed my calling, for in controlling the masses there is no tool as efficient as divine inspiration. It was with a sense of awe that we were lead before the Seer Priestess of the Lizards. For it was she that was the driving force behind this crusade, and not the Prince of whom we had heard so much. Fearing treachery, and doubting the self-control of Euvgeni should he meet again his mortal foe, Joranth and I were sent to bargain for the staff of Mundiree. We were not surprised to find that the Crone Priestess had been awaiting us, or that the army had been gathered to "ensure peace". If only I had a kingdom for every time I had heard that. It soon became apparent that the Lizards were no surer of the reason for their millennial quest than we were. It was merely determined that as Joranth was the chosen of his two gods, so was the Prince the chosen of the Lizards. The Staff was not present among the Lizards, as the Prince had taken the artefact to the Ruined City to meet with his destiny. It seemed apparent that our destiny would lead us down the same path. I couldn’t shrug off the feeling that Euvgeni’s sword would significantly alter the Prince’s destined path. During our discussions with the Priestess, the Fox of Béray, Marquis de Merrin, also came to parley with the Lizards. Imagine his surprise when I was chosen as the negotiator for the Lizards. I am sure that it was almost as great as mine. Much to his distress, it was decide that the Lizard army would remain encamped around Béray until we returned.

We made great haste in our reckless pursuit of the Prince. Only Joranth’s spells sustained our mounts and spirits during the journey. He was brimming with the power of two contesting Gods, and seemed that nothing was beyond his ability. I must confess that for all my enlightenment, I still did not fully comprehend all that was at stake. I would learn much later in the Ruins. The Prince had indeed found his way to the city before us, as had an unknown foe. Imagine our surprise at being hunted through the deserted city by intelligent trolls, capable of manipulating strange devices and skilled in the arts of war. It was quickly evident that the Prince had run afoul of these beasts, and in seeking to hide ourselves from them, we discovered the ruins of an ancient temple of the warlike race that once lived in the city. Within the ruins, we found the Throbbing Harp, an artefact that I had thought lost forever. Proof that fortune doesn’t always favour the brave. The harp was a gift to Cha-im from the Goddess of Death, its throbbing beat promised that no warrior would enter her realm while embroiled in battle; somewhat reassuring given our current situation.

After much searching through the city, there came a time when we could not hide our presence from the trolls any longer. Yes, Owen was out exploring at this moment, and there were explosions and collapsing buildings involved. Events became a blur as we engaged droves of the fearsome creatures. I can recall Joranth’s chants and Euvgeni’s blood-curdling war cries. Draco’s destructive sorceries filled the air, and there were more collapsing buildings in Owen’s vicinity. My own role sword and spell was far from insignificant, but it is unbecoming for the Chronicler to sing his own praises, too much.

It was saddening that such heroic deeds would lead us to a place that would spell certain doom for Joranth. It was in the great temple of Cha-im that the events would unfold. The temple stood as ruined as the Gods’ honour would prove to be, and perhaps this is why there is no longer honour among those engaged in war. The square around the temple was filled with fighting men, not all of them illusions. Joranth was glowing with power, and the earth would come alive at his feet. It was at this moment that an Avatar of Mundiree brought the wounded Lizard Prince to us – saved from the claws of the trolls. The Last Priest¹ of Cha-im carried the Prince of the Lizards into the temple.

It is with great sorrow that I record the next events. I am the only witness to these events as the Gods froze all that were present, barring them from witnessing the shame of their disputes. It was only Rotan’s gift that enabled me shrug off their enchantments and act as witness. I followed Joranth into the temple where he lay the Prince down on Cha-im’s altar. He took the spoon-shaped Staff of Mundiree the Giver. Then he was asked to choose between sacrificing the life of the Prince, or forfeiting his own life to Cha-im’s wrath. He was granted visions of famines or war to end wars as the outcome of his choice, the displeasure of either god visited upon his people. In the end, Joranth made the only choice his heart would allow, and was struck down by Cha-im. I still imagine that I might have saved him, but the wrath of a god is hard to divert. Mundiree accepted the sacrifice and gloated over her victory. No act disheartened me more however, than having to bargain favours from the Giver who had gained so much from the sacrifice. Indeed Rotan had always proved more generous than Mundiree, whose nature it should be to give and bless.

The lands will suffer no famines now as we prepare for the Great War that comes², and every fruit blossom I see I will count as gift from Joranth the Humble and True Giver.

1. I discovered later that Cha-im had lied to Joranth – there are indeed other priests of the God of War about in the land. All Cha-im cared for was victory. I therefore wonder why it matters to record how we fight. – DQ.
2. The trolls are an arctic race that have conquered a nation of ogres, and drive this army south. This proves the truth of many visions previously recorded, and explains why the Empire embarked upon its desperate course. See also "A Prelude to the Last War of the Races" – DQ.