[Fiction: Native to the Savage Tongue] (This is back story involving the Hermit.) The hermit scowled at those who had interrupted his solitude as of late, though he had known eventually they would come to him. It was as he was told they would, after all. Many years ago, far past those which he could still count, he had been an adventurer; He had gone through the deepest caves, the darkest dungeons, and the highest cliffs, but he always yearned for more. There had been rumors of a tribe of savages that while their customs were similar to that of the other savage tribes, were not outwardly hostile as the rest were of outsiders. It was said that these particular savages held the key to finding a secret temple, and it was this that he was interested in. In traversing the lands to find them, he knew that he had eventually made his way to the Temple, but his memory was sketchy at best. He vaguely remembered some sort of terrible accident befalling him, and waking up quite some time later in the care of one of the shamans. His wounds were for the most part healed, but he found that a more distressing issue had arisen; He had forgotten how to speak in his original tongue! It was many months later before he was able to walk and talk well, but since the savages knew little of Brittanian tongue, they had instead taught him their own. In doing so they had taught him of the full story of the Temple, the reason behind their reverence of it, and so much more. His loss of memory had caused him to lose his sense of purpose as well, but he had now found a new one. With all that the savages had told him about the temple, he knew that it was something that needed to be guarded…to be protected from those who were not worthy of entering it’s halls. To do so would likely save countless lives of the unwitting, and even more so…prevent an even greater tragedy from befalling. When he explained this idea to the Chieftain and the Grand Shaman, they expressed disbelief that an outsider would be willing and able to do such a thing. They put his devotion to the test through torturous practices and traditions…but he passed each one with a courage seen by the fiercest of their warriors. With the blessing of the Chieftain and the aid of the Grand Shaman, they constructed the EpiOlmec Cascajal, and the chieftain hid clues in the words of the Brittanians throughout Malas. With the EpiOlmec Cascajal secure with his tribe, and the clues to unlock it scattered across the lands, the chieftain bid a final farewell to the Hermit. Should the worst happen to the tribe, the legacy of the temple would live on. And the hermit intended to live amongst the lands of Malas for the rest of his days.