Your people have always been here.
When the serpents ruled the land and fought with ancient Azlant, the lizardfolk watched from their swamps and deep jungles. When darkness fell across all Golarion, your people endured. They have watched the second rise of the warm-bloods, and while they have been pushed ever further into the wilderness, they have kept the old ways, and they have endured.
But they have not thrived. And that which does not thrive is dying, although it be a very slow death.
There are probably things to be learned from the warm-bloods....
The time for change was now.
Zervallint arrived back at the swampy lands that were his home. He had learned much while away among the warm-bloods. He still did not have the answers he originally left seeking; his own powers were still a mystery to him, though he had become much more skilled and comfortable with them, with the water that surged through his being as though he were a river clad in scales. But he had gained much wisdom of other things, of how other peoples lived and fought and thrived. And of how his own kind were rare and downtrodden, stagnant as the swamp water in which they lived. And so, after this long time away, he had parted ways with the faithful warm-blooded companions he had long travelled with, and came here, to return home. A great task lay before him, one far more difficult than battling against the beasts that dwelled in ruins, and he would need allies among his own kind to succeed. But the water had taught him to be as adaptable and powerful as a river, flowing ever towards its goal, wearing away or flowing around every obstacle in its path.
Zervallint took a deep breath, and let the waters of the Sodden Lands carry him home.
At last, Zervallint arrived in the Garut's territory. It was, as usual, drizzling steadily under a grey sky. The swamp was deeper here, with many holes that could catch the unwary, but even after being so long away he does not fall for the ordinary dangers of the swamp.
Soon enough he sees a trio of his fellow tribe members in the distance... and they see him. They stop their hunting and start to warily approach, not quite certain at this distance who this interloper is.
Serrask as at the center of his tribe's settlement. As a lizardfolk settelement, it still blends well with the swamplands, with huts for living and breeding and eggs on raised islands where there is dry land. One thing that is different, though, are a few buildings that are on stilts, to be that much dryer, which have in them tools for writing and even some written material. Serrask is this day sequestered in one of these small cabins, studying a text he has recently acquired recounting archaeological expeditions into the Mwangi Expanse. He hopes to glean clues of the millennia-ancient lizardfolk civilization when their numbers were far greater than today. Did the live the same tribal live that most lizards lived today? Or were their ways different when they had enough folk to create a true civilization?
He pauses and listens to the sound of the young lizardfolk outside, being trained to hide and hunt by their elders. Although it's a serious business, children are children, and the young ones are currently shouting with glee as they have come across something amusing, or completed some difficult task, or whatever it is they are enjoying. He feels a satisfaction. The lizardfolk can be so much more than they are, he thinks to himself, but what they are is still very valuable, and should not be lost.
Zervallint emerged from the waters he had been swimming in, though some yet clung to him, and flowed across the ground at his feet. He continued to stride smoothly closer, while silently reminding himself to speak in the language and dialect of home, rather than that of the warm-bloods.
"Greetings, fellow Garut. I am Zervallint, returning after a long time away."
As he draws closer, Zervallint slowly remembers these Garut. Two of them are several years younger than him, while the other is one of the older, more experienced hunters of the tribe.
Said older hunter steps forward. "Ah... yes. Zervallint. I remember you. It has been long. The Chief will want to see you." She pauses a moment, considering him. "You remember the way? I would not interrupt the hunt if I need not."
"Yes, I remember the way. Even after this long, this is still my home. I wish you good hunting."
With a nod, Zervallint continues on his way to the village.
It's not hard for Zervallint to make his way back to the village. Little has changed while he's been away, at least in the landscape.
He's challenged again by one of the sentries watching the village, but even before he answers the guard recognizes him and welcomes him back. Soon enough, he stands in his ancestral home... though here there is something different. Those raised huts are new. But before he can consider them too long, the younglings have gathered around him (under the watchful eyes of their elders) and started questioning him excitedly.
Serrask hears the difference in the goings-on of the village. The younglings are all speaking excitedly, though he can't make out the words.
Serrask hears the commotion outside. Putting down the book he's working on, he sticks his head outside the hut to see what's got the younglings so excited.
He looks at the newcomer, wondering what it is about him that has the younglings so excited. He is new, after all, and it's exciting when somebody new... wait. It can't be.
He skips climbing down the stairs and jumps down to the ground, making his way quickly over to Zervallint.
"Zervallint! Old friend! You've come back!"
"Serrask! Yes, after all these years, I have returned. I have learned many things in my travels, even if my first question is yet unanswered. How go things here?"
Serrask sees the water dripping off of Zervallint, and smiles knowingly. "I am eager to hear of the many things you have learned in your travels! Looking at you, I am guessing you have learned more about the powers you have....?"
Smiling broadly -- which, for lizardfolk is a rather subdued affair primarily involving the set of the eyes, for actually showing wide teeth is more of a threat than a smile -- Serrask says, "I guess nobody told you who the chief is now? Zervallint, as chief, I welcome you back to the tribe!"
"You are the chief now? That is indeed news to me! I suspect we will have much to talk about, for it seems that neither of our lives have been uneventful." j
Zervallint gives a slight bow to Serrask, showing proper respect for the chief of the tribe.
"...though it looks like perhaps first we will need to herd these younglings back to their chores. There will be time enough for stories later, around the fire, and my tale is not a short one." Zervallint grins a bit, while indicating the mob of excited youngsters.
By now, more than just younglings were gathered around. Several of the older members of the tribe were also looking at Zervallint with considerably less enthusiasm than the younger lizardfolk, though none were genuinely unfriendly. They were simply wary of what might have happened during Zervallint's long absence.
Sverix replies, "I have much to tell you as well! There is a lot going on around here. I have hopes that our tribe will truly thrive."
He then turns to the younglings and adopts his kind-but-firm daddy-like chief voice, and says to them, "Children! Zervallint is here, and will be here still later today and tomorrow! It is time for you all to return to your chores. Go on."
He waves his hands at them in a gesture to get them going.
Looking up at the older members of the tribe watching warily, he says, "Most of you remember Zervallint, I am sure, but if not, that's who this is. He was a good friend of mine when we both were quite younger."
Nodding to the hut on stilts nearby, Sverix says, "Come, shall we retire to the library and speak?"
He watches Zervallint closely to see how he reacts to the word "library".
"A library? That is a change from when I was here before, and something I am more familiar with in dryer lands. Perhaps I should dry myself off..." With a thought, Zervallint staunches the flow of water about him, the shroud of liquid flowing off and vanishing into the swampy ground, leaving Zervallint as dry as though he had not been in water at all.
"We shall have much to talk about, as I have seen much which may be of importance to our people. Though I fear that some of my words may not be taken well by the tribe."
Zervallint moved to follow Serrask, letting him lead the way to the library.
The younglings express disappointment at being excluded from the exciting new experience of this different person, but are soon shepherded back to their tasks by their caretakers. The older tribe members say nothing as they turn away, but their gazes seem to say, "How could one gone so long from us still be Garut?" Still, while Serrask has been a strange chief in his short time, the Garut have prospered, and so they leave the issue to him with a fair amount of trust.
Serrask nods to Zervallint as the other quenches his flowing water. "Thank you! The contents of the library would probably not survive long; after all, I built the hut on stilts to protect it from the rain and the rising water."
Serrask takes Zervallint up the few steps into the hut on stits. The room inside is well-kept, but perhaps not as well-stocked as Serrask might like. There are a few tomes, and a number of scrolls. "I've started to try to collect some lore here. I have my personal interests... but I'm also trying to collect lore that will help me learn how better to make our tribe flourish. A lot has happened since you left! I have learned much. Indeed, I have learned some arcane arts of my own. But, looking at you, I'm guessing that you have learned more about your own gifts.... And, I can't wait to hear what you have seen in your travels! How far did you go? Whom did you travel with? What did you learn?"
Pausing, Serrask laughs. "I'm sorry if my enthusiasm is too much. I'm eager to learn. It is good to see you again. I am glad you have come home. And do not worry about the tribe; they are leery of outsiders, and some of them are uncomfortable because of the things I've started doing as chief, but they are good, solid folk. Better than most of our kind, with open minds. Some are slower to come around than others, but still they are all good folk. They will come to accept you again very soon."
Zervallint nods at the small collectionn. "Writings are definitely of use; in fact, one thing I had wished to suggest on my return was that our people should begin keeping writings of our own stories, customs, and knowledge. There is much wisdom in the old tales, and it is ever a tragedy when it is lost by the death of the tale-teller; the warm-bloods discovered this long ago, and have prospered by saving their knowledge. And do not worry; an eagerness to learn is a welcome sight to me here at home." Zervallint's expression grows a bit more grim and serious. "For the most worrying thing I have discovered is that our kind is far too rare in the world at large. We may be doing well in these wet lands created by the great storms, but overall... our kind is dying out. The warm-bloods are not actively trying to destroy us, and in fact most bear no ill will, but they are prospering while our kind stagnates, and if we do nothing soon only they will be left."
Then Zervallint shakes his head, and raises his spirits a little. "But, with that out of the way, I can begin answering your other questions. After leaving, I went out seeking those who might know of my strange powers, and soon enough ended up in the company of a travelling band of explorers known as the Ruin Scalers. Our goals aligned, and over time we became friends and brothers-in-arms, as we battled against the beasts of the wild and scoured old ruins for ancient knowledge, present scholars knowing nothing of my powers, and paying well for old scrolls. I have seen some of Sargava and the Mwangi Expanse, parts of the mage-lands of Nex, the blasted Mana Wastes, and even the hot, dry land of Osirion, though I cannot say I liked that one. But none of these lands had any who knew much of my powers, beyond that they are not any manner of sorcery or wizardry, nor are they divine in nature that any can tell." Zervallint gave a rasping sigh, a form of expression he had semi-borrowed from the warm-bloods. "The only answers I have gotten about my powers are lessons learned through the hard school of survival and combat, honing my skills against beasts and monsters, and finding inspiration from natural watercourses. It sometimes seems as though the rivers and streams are whispering to me; if only I could make out what they are saying..." Zervallint trails off, gazing into the distance.
Serrask nods eagerly. "Yes, we should find somebody with the interest and aptitude to be our tribe historian. You are right that our people should record our stories and our traditions, so that we won't forget them, and so that future generations might learn from them, and also learn of any innovations anybody makes to them."
"I am troubled to hear that the lizardfolk are few and declining. It is not surprising; every year, it seems that we see more of the warm bloods coming from the west and the southwest."
Serrask listens with interest as Zervallint tells of his stoires. "It is interesting that you did not learn anything of your powers. Perhaps it is recent? The hurricanes and storms that constantly plague the western coast are only about a century old; perhaps they are connected to your powers? Have you spoken with any priests of Gozreh?"
"For my part, as you see I have not been idle. But I, too, have travelled, though not nearly as far, and have spoken with people outside our own people. Quite some time ago, a scouting party I was on came into conflict with a small group of boggards. They had recently captured a warm-blood cavaran, and there was a man among them, Yera M'bessa, who was trained in the arcane arts. I spoke with him, and realized that even though my heart beats the heart of a warrior, I had a spark if it within myself. He became a sort of mentor to me, and I eventually travelled to the warm-blood city he comes from. It is an ancient city named Natambu; you may have heard of it, or visited it yourself. In Nantambu there is an ancient wizard's college known as the Magaambya, founded millenia ago by a famous and very powerful warm-blood wizard. I studied there, and have learned some magic of my own. The wizards of the Magaambya have a close connection to the land, which helped me in convincing my people that they should accept my training form Yera. If you have not talked with them about your own powers, it's possible some of them might know something."
Zervallint shook his head. "I've already spoken to both priests and wizards. Whatever my powers are, they are not the arcane or the divine. They do seem to be magic, but they are not spells. Quite frankly, a couple of those arcane types seemed a bit too interested in how they worked, but none could determine for sure. I can tell that whatever they are, they come from within myself; I can feel the power flow through me, and the greater abilities leave exhaustion in their wake. The best answer I can give is that they are something different."
Zervallint raised his head. "The best answer I have found for myself is that I may be some kind of harbinger of change to come. Perhaps others like me will arise, or there may be others who harbor latent talents that could awaken. I will strive to come to understand myself so that if that is true I will be there to teach and guide them. Or if I am unique, then I will use these gifts to buoy up our people on friendly waters."
One --- well, whatever you call the part over the eye which would be where an eyebrow is on a human, only lizarfolk don't have hair --- raises on Serrask's face. "A bit too interested? I don't suppose a wizard tried to dissect you? At the Magaambya, such behavior would not be tolerated, but I've heard stories about other wizard's colleges that have much less of a sense of ethics. Apparently there's one in the north where all students must summon a devil in order to pass from the apprentice to the journeyman stage."
Serrask shudders.
"In any event, it looks like these abilities have only done you well, so we will not worry. Hopefully with time and introspection and practice, you will be able to learn more about them yourself."
A small brightly-colored flying animal flies in through the door of the hut and lands on the back of a chair near Serrask. It's a small pterosaur, with an elongated toothy mouth, but no crest on the back of its head. At the end of its tail there's a flare. Its skin and wings are leathery.
"Don't be alarmed!" Serrask says. "This is Sivver... like many of an arcane bent, I've bonded with a familiar. Sivver is my familiar."
If Zervallint is familiar with his dinosaurs, he'll recognize Sivver as a small ("tiny" in game terms) Rhamphorhynchus -- although the flyer has a spark in its eyes and regards Zervallint with more intelligence than your typical dinosaur.
"None went so far as to wish to dissect me, but I'm pretty sure one of them followed my band for at least two days watching me, and then scryed on us for three more. It was a bit unsettling."
Zervallint tenses for a moment when the small creature enters, but relaxes on recognizing it as being fairly harmless, and with Serrask's explanation.
"Yes, I feel I have learned and gained much from having these abilities, and from my time away. I hope to pass on the wisdom I have gained to the tribe... but I fear that it may be some time before they are willing to listen to what I say. In the meantime, I can lend my unique talents to aid the tribe, and I have a plentiful supply of new stories to tell the younglings." Zervallint became a bit more cheerful at the thought of regaling appreciative younglings with the tales of his travels. Perhaps it would light a spark in some of them to see the many wonders of the world beyond the swamps.
Serask nods. "Some will be hesitant to listen. Others... well, let us just say that I've already made a fair bit of the tribe get used to some turmoil and upset, some bringing in of new ways. Many have embraced it surprisingly well, although, of course, there are some who think we are dishonoring tradition. That is not my intent; our tradition is valuable. I do not want us simply to become imitators of the soft-skins. But we are going to need a lot of new ideas if we're going to thrive in the face of the soft-skins pressing ever further into the jungle. But, more pressing, the lizardfolk of the Terwa Lords have ambitions of empire, and would annex us. We have to be ready to resist them."
With a joyful crinkling of his eyes, Serrask adds, "And the younglings will be eager to hear your stories. Tell them! I like to encourage the young ones to think creatively, to hear stories of all kinds. Not only to inspire them, but to keep them aware of the wide world around us. They are our future...."
"Indeed they are," a voice suddenly interrupts from the doorway--a voice Serrask recognizes as Yera's. The Nantamban mage was looking curiously at Zevallint, his weathered and tanned skin a contrast to the smooth scales of the lizardfolk.
"I am afraid I missed the rest of your conversation, though I think I know Serrask well enough to guess at some of it," he continues, walking in and setting the scroll he'd been carrying down on a shelf in the room. "Especially since he's spoken of you, Zervallint. Aiming to shake things up now, aren't you?"
Unsure if the mage knew the lizardfolk's dialect of Draconic, Zervallint switched to the local common tongue.
"Ah, you must be Yera M'Bessa. Assuming there are no other humans in the village, that is. But to answer your question... I suspect that I will cause a fair bit of shaking up regardless of intent. That being said, I also believe that the time has come that our kind must learn to change, else we eventually dwindle away."
Turning back to Serrask, Zervallint continued. "Particularly if the Terwa Lords truly intend to subjugate our tribe. I have heard ill of them; they are on the path of destruction."
Yera nods. "A topic your friend and I have often discussed," he agreed in Draconic, though his accent sounded odd to Zervallint's hearing. "But please, do not let me interrupt too much. What were you planning?"
He takes a seat as he speaks, looking glad to be off his feet. Zervallint has learned enough of human appearances to know the man is fairly old.
Serrask says, "You know what I'm thinking of; building our home here into a settlement that contains centers of learning, trade, and organized defenses that will catch the Terwa lords by surprise. Many lizardfolk will think we are giving in to softskin ways, but my hope is to do this in a particularly lizard way -- honoring our tradition while adapting to the world as it is, not the world as we wished it were."
"But I am eager to hear what ideas Zervallint has brought back from the wider world."
Switching back to Draconic, Zervallint responded.
"I think that we will have to think bigger than just our single tribe. It will be hard to convince them, but we must join our tribe with many others into a nation strong enough to stand on equal terms with the kingdoms beyond the swamps. Our old stories tell of a time long ago when our people were united, led by great heroes, large in stature and prosperous; we must bring about anew such an age."
"I have learned the lessons of the waterways of the world. We must be like a river, flowing ever onward. Old riverbeds are good, but if an obstacle bars our way we must either flow around it or wash it away; let us not be dammed up easily."
Serrask nods. "I like what you are thinking; it makes sense. It will take some finesse to do this without alarming the... humans and the others."
Serrask tries to avoid the term "soft-skins" in Yera's presence, as he fears it might be construed as either offensive or aggressive.
"They may not be unified into a single large nation down here, but if they perceive us doing it, they will become frightened, and may unify against us. Many of our people will want to see such an endeavor as a means to conquest and dominance. I would rather see it as survival and growth. We can peacefully exist with the sof-- the humans and the Ekujae elves and the others... as equals."
"Oh, I'm sure some will be alarmed. Others will be intrigued, and others indifferent. We shall simply have to show our intentions through actions. Though, there will always be some who are problematic. And we should be careful; the warm-blooded folk that dwell near here are mostly the rougher sort. And the Terwa Lords' recent actions have hardly made them more friendly to our kind."