It was widely known within the Old World that dwarves suffered from a kind of insanity bought on by the presence of gold. Though they would never admit it adepts of the Gold College suffered from an attenuated version of the same disease. As the golden city appeared before her Emmaline’s mouth fell open and there was a definite stiffening of her nipples and slickening of her thighs.

“Ummm,” she managed as she stepped though the portal and into the city of gold. They stood on a terrace that descended to broad streets and wide plaza below. It seemed to be a series of temples and, possibly habitation for priests, though there was no sign of them now. Emmaline intuited that it must once have been a vast seam of gold, drawn from the space and then reforged to create the shining city below. Though the engineering was beyond impressive, there was clearly something magical about it as she could feel the winds of magic even without opening her inner eyes.

T’krit hissed something that might have been down, or maybe submerge and the Kroxigor lowered her to the ground. The skink stepped towards her and drew an emerald from a pouch. Soft golden light seemed trapped within the gems many facets and it had almost a hypnotic effect on her.

“Tlatanak!” T’krit hissed and pressed the gem to her forehead. Understand. The syllabant hissing of the lizardmen resolved itself into speech, still hisses but intelligible as the magic flowed into her.

“Oh sure you have had that the whole time and you only use it now?” Emmaline asked stamping her foot crossly. T’krit hissed and shook his head.

“The magic will only work in sacred place priestess,” T’krit informed her. Amal was looking at her as though she had just sprouted a tail. Which might have seemed more likely than the fact that she had just begun hissing in the lizardman language. Emmaline looked back and forth from the gem to Amal and then snatched the stone from T’kritt’s talons darting it across the room to press against Amal’s head. There was another flare of golden light as the mystical spell took hold of the thief as well.

“Sacrilige!” T’krit grated behind her.