Temple-Cities

The Ancient Mage-Priest is one of the oldest survivors of the Cinder-World — near-motionless on his obsidian throne, living memory of the Plan traced by the Sculptors before the fall. He saw Iztacuatl fall. He saw the Sculptors fade. He passed through the Collapse of the Veil chanting the Glyph-Stone of his Temple-City, and he chants it still when woken for war. His civilisation learned one lesson: not to wait.

In battle, the Ancient Mage-Priest channels the Breaths through the Glyphs carved on his skin and on the altar he carries with him — the Way of Glyphs, permanent and ritual magic that does not hurry. He flies, perched on a sacred dais, accompanied by servants. His magic does not strike like a Shugengan's; it inscribes, it fixes, it completes the Plan the Sculptors wove before Chaos consumed their world. Cold-Blooded: he does not feel the urgency of mortals. He has already seen all of it.

The Oldblood is a warrior-noble Saurian — a martial caste whose status is measured by glyph-scars marked in the scaled skin at each great battle. An Oldblood must be old: it takes decades for the skin to accumulate the full reading of a life. Many fall along the way. Those who survive become living libraries the Mage-Priests consult as one consults a chronicle.

In battle, the Oldblood fights with obsidian blades — ritual weapons cut from the black stone of the Temple-Cities, sharper than any mortal steel. Furious Charge: his ancestral rage wakes at the first enemy line. He rallies the younger Saurians around him, who see on his skin what they hope to one day bear. When an Oldblood falls, his glyph-scars are recorded, transcribed onto the next generation, and perpetuated.

The Scar-Veteran is an Oldblood in training — a warrior-noble who has passed the trial of the first combats and accumulates the first great scars, but has not yet reached the rank one reads on the true elders. The distinction between Scar-Veteran and Oldblood depends as much on the number of glyphs as on the authority recognised by the Temple-City's Mage-Priest.

In battle, the Scar-Veteran leads a banner — a company of Saurian Warriors, sometimes two. He fights with obsidian blades, as his elder does, but his rage triggers faster: a Scar-Veteran charges sooner than an Oldblood because he has not yet learned to wait. Many never become Oldbloods — not for lack of battle, but for excess. The caste mourns only those it loses uselessly.

The Skirmisher Priest is an Arcane Vassal — a small priestly Saurian who channels for the Ancient Mage-Priest and carries the Way of Glyphs into battle on a smaller scale. He comes from the amphibian cohorts of the Temple-Cities — a minor, fragile caste, but numerous. The Way of Glyphs is partly open to him; he transmits more than he creates.

In battle, the Skirmisher Priest stays back, on the flanks of regiments, and channels the magic the Ancient Mage-Priest has entrusted to him. His fragility is constant — a single well-placed bolt can remove him from the battle — but his magical reach compensates for the limit of the immobile Glyph-Stones. Without the Vassals, the Mage-Priest would not act in battle: relays are needed to bring the Way down.

The Skirmisher Chief is the officer of the skirmisher caste — a small hunter Saurian, mounted or on foot depending on the mission, trained in the short poisoned bow and light blade. He commands cohorts of hunters and trap-setters who patrol the Veil-Jungles since the Collapse, following the Plan traced by the Mage-Priests for their Marches of the Plan.

In battle, the Skirmisher Chief applies the Saurian doctrine of precise harassment — one does not match strength, one attacks where the target is alone, one shoots at close range, one vanishes. Poisoned Attacks: his bow and blade bear the Veil toxins, extracted from the plants of the anachronistic jungle. One bite suffices to fell a grown man. He can ride a Terradon or a Razorwing for even more mobile strikes — the jungle has accustomed him to see from above.

The Saurian Warriors are the standard levy of the Temple-Cities — soldiers raised from the Spawning-Pools, trained for combat from their first moults, armed with obsidian blades and shields of scale-hide. Their loyalty is total to the Mage-Priest of their Temple-City: they have no family in the human sense, they have only a Plan to serve and a Glyph to honour.

In battle, the Saurian Warriors hold in tight formation, obsidian blades forward, shield at the flank. Cold-Blooded: they do not feel the fear of the short-lived. Discipline of the Sculptors: their line does not break as long as the Plan orders them. The Imperial armies that meet them in battle discover that a Saurian wall does not break as easily as a human wall.

The Skirmishers are the minor amphibian caste of the Temple-Cities — small swift Saurians, fragile, marsh-born and lagoon-swimmers, trained for the hunt rather than pitched battle. They populate the peripheries of the Temple-Cities by thousands and patrol the Veil-Jungles since the Collapse, passing what they see to the Mage-Priests through glyphic signals.

In battle, the Skirmishers harry enemy flanks and rears — loose formation, Move through Cover in jungle or marsh, poisoned attacks with the toxins of the anachronistic plants. They never hold a position against a charge; they have no use for that. Their weapon is evasion, their arrow is patience, and their poison decides what their blade could not.

The Jungle Swarms are the animal swarms of the Veil-Jungles — teeming masses of small predators (knife-lizards, glyph-spiders, venomous batrachians, giant centipedes) that fled the Cinder-World with the Saurians and persist in the fragments of anachronistic jungle. They are not commanded in the military sense; they are **directed** by the Mage-Priests through the Glyph-Stones.

In battle, the Swarms overflow — no formation, no banner, no retreat. They cover the ground like a living tide, bite, sting, suffocate. Immune to fear, Unbreakable, Loners (each swarm acts alone), they are presented to the enemy ahead of the Saurian lines to break a charge before it lands. When they are cut down, hundreds are cut down. When one stops cutting them, they have already passed.

The Temple Guard is the Saurian elite that surrounds the Glyph-Stones and the Ancient Mage-Priest of the Temple-Cities. Selected from the Scar-Veterans and trained by the rite of the Sculptors, their members bear particular scar-glyphs — the Vow-Glyphs — that bind them to the sanctuary they serve. They leave their Temple-City only when the Mage-Priest leaves it; they return only if he returns.

In battle, the Temple Guard fights with halberd and shield in tight formation — Shieldwall — protecting the mobile altar of the Mage-Priest. Obsidian blades, Cold-Blooded, Stubborn to the bone. Where ordinary Saurian Warriors break from fatigue, the Guard holds because its charge is not victory — it is the persistence of the Glyph-Stone.

The Chameleons are the elite scouts of the Temple-Cities — Skirmishers selected for their ability to modify the hue of their skin and merge into any terrain. The gift is rare; one Skirmisher in a hundred has it, and those are pulled from their original cohort to join the Chameleon Observers. Many spend their lives far from the Temple-Cities, on permanent patrol.

In battle, the Chameleons deploy ahead of the armies (Scouts), invisible to enemies as long as they stay still, and fire poisoned darts from blowpipes that never miss a target marked by the Plan. Evasive — they make enemy shooting almost useless. When a Chameleon reveals himself, it is because his Mage-Priest has ordered it. Before that, he does not exist — to the enemy.

The Great Saurians are the brute-strength caste of the Temple-Cities — giant Saurians born irregular in the Spawning-Pools, three times the size of an ordinary Warrior, endowed with muscular strength other factions associate with wild beasts rather than soldiers. They are rare — a pool produces a few each decade — and precious: no ritual manufactures a Great Saurian.

In battle, the Great Saurians wield two-handed weapons — obsidian blades or stone clubs — and strike over the friendly ranks with a reach even cavalry cannot ignore. Aquatic, they emerge from marshes without being seen, cause Fear by their mass alone. Cold-Blooded makes them immune to panic, Saurian discipline prevents them from charging without order. When the order comes, they only stop if the Plan asks them to.

The Cold One Riders are the Saurian heavy cavalry — Scar-Veterans mounted on **Cold Ones**, lizard-predators the size of a charger, captives domesticated since the Cinder-World. The Cold One is not broken: it is **bound** to the Saurian by a rite-glyph engraved in the skin of its nape. Stupid — less intelligent than an Imperial horse — but stubbornly loyal.

In battle, the Cold One Riders charge in tight formation, obsidian blades in hand, their mounts sinking talons into the first enemy line (Armour Bane). **Stupidity**: without firm control, the Cold One hesitates or deviates; an experienced Saurian keeps the mount in hand. They cause Fear by their silhouette half-horse half-alligator, break cuirass by their charge.

The Terradon Riders are the light aerial cavalry of the Temple-Cities — selected Skirmishers mounted on **Terradons**, medium-sized pterosaurs that nest in the peaks of the Veil-Jungles. The selection of riders is rigorous: only the Skirmishers with the strongest instinct for the Plan are admitted, because a disoriented Terradon falls.

In battle, the Terradon Riders fly above the field, throw poisoned javelins at enemy units, and **drop glyph-stones** from the heights onto engines, chariots and tight formations. Skirmish, Swiftstride, Cause Fear. A flight of Terradon Riders can disintegrate an enemy cannon before it has fired its first shot.

The Razorwing Riders are the heavy aerial cavalry of the Temple-Cities — veteran Skirmishers mounted on **Razorwings**, winged amphibians more aggressive than Terradons, with wings sharp as blades. The Razorwing is **furious by nature**; one does not pact it, one soothes it — and the soothing only holds as long as enemy blood is near.

In battle, the Razorwing Riders charge in dive, cavalry spear forward, **Furious Charge** + **Cleaving Blow** + **Toad Rage**. Impetuous — they do not hold order when they see a weak target — Skirmish, Swiftstride. Their rage is their strength, their weakness, and their probable end: a furious Razorwing charging the wrong unit rarely comes back.

The War Tortoise is the living engine of the Temple-Cities — a giant tortoise the size of a steam tank, fitted with an **Ark of Tlaxan-Blood** on its shell, escorted by a crew of javelin-throwing Saurians. The War Tortoise comes from the Cinder-World; none has been spawned on Aldémoros, and their number diminishes slowly with each century.

In battle, the War Tortoise walks slowly toward the enemy and **crushes all in its path** — Impact Hits, Stomp, Large Target. Its crew throws poisoned javelins from the shell; the Ark releases a glyph-rite that slows enemy spells in its radius. Immune to fear, Stubborn, Terrifying. When it falls, a new glyph-stone is engraved in its memory, and the Temple-Cities add it to the list of **irreplaceable losses**.

The Salamanders are the fire-beasts of the Veil-Jungles — large lizards spitting an alchemical burning breath, captives since the Cinder-World, passed from generation to generation. Each pack is framed by **Handlers** — specialised Skirmishers who have tamed them by patience and by fresh meat.

In battle, the Salamanders breathe their fire — short template, enemies set ablaze, panic among undisciplined troops. Aquatic, they often emerge from waterways to surprise. Cause Fear. Skirmish — their Handlers follow in loose formation, ready to recall them if the enemy is too close. But a Salamander that sees the enemy fall does not always listen to its Handler.

The Razordons are the spike-beasts of the Veil-Jungles — massive quadrupeds covered in razor-barbs that bristle at the slightest threat. Like Salamanders, they are captives since the Cinder-World and framed by Handlers. But unlike Salamanders, the Razordon **shoots** — its barbs detach like short projectiles and saturate a short-arrow trajectory.

In battle, the Razordon bristles at the approach of a charge and **discharges** its barbs in a spray — covering a sector of sharp small bolts. Aquatic, Skirmish, Cause Fear. Its Handlers place it facing a cavalry or charging infantry and pull back; the Razordon does the rest. When it has emptied its barbs, it bites. Less effective, but not painless.

The War Titan is the **greatest behemoth** of the Temple-Cities — a colossal quadruped bearing on its back a **Glyphic Howdah** from which Saurians shoot a giant bow or throw javelins. A species of the Cinder-World the Saurians have kept alive through two millennia of ritual care, lacking the ability to raise new ones.

In battle, the Titan **advances slowly, crushes all, stops only when the Plan decides**. Its horns impale, its stomp grinds, its giant bow brings down an Imperial knight at two hundred paces. Immune to fear, Stubborn, Terrifying. Like the War Tortoise, each Titan lost is inscribed on the list of irreplaceable losses. No Titan has hatched on Aldémoros.

The Cave Predator is one of the most ancient creatures of the Cinder-World — a giant glyph-blooded beast, gifted with a ritual intelligence beyond that of an ordinary Saurian. The Saurians say it is a **Mage-Priest transformed** by the Sculptors before the fall, to serve as a glyphic agent in the depths of the Veil-Jungles. No proof. No contradiction.

In battle, the Cave Predator is an **Arcane Vassal** — it carries the Way of Glyphs within it, sometimes purer than that of the Skirmishers. Venomous talons, short-range venom spray, scaled hide harder than cuirass. **Primeval Roar**: its mere voice can rout an enemy regiment before it has engaged. Causes Terror, Cold-Blooded, Stubborn. A Temple-City wakes one only for wars no Mage-Priest would dare lead in person.