In the highest and holiest sanctum of the great pyramid of the Old Ones at the centre of Itza, the Lustrian Demolition Council (LDC) was in session. “Order! ORDER!” shouted Tristram, Muncher of Skulls, over the hubbub of gibbers and squawks. “You dare to invoke order, here?!” hissed the Mighty Wilm, Lord/Lady of Lust, lounging on his/her elbow across a slab once used as a mage priest’s palanquin, as only a Slaaneshi can lounge. “Order is anathema!” “I don’t mean literal order, Wilm, as you know perfectly well. But we need some quiet at least if we’re going to get anywhere. Right, now that some of you seem to be paying attention, let’s have a report on the matters of the day. Now it says here…” Tristram peered at a piece of brimstone parchment that smoked gently in his red hands. “Several captives were liberated by resistance groups while being transported by Norsca worshippers? Anyone care to explain?” “Just as planned,” cackled the disembodied voice of Jimmini the Insane, Shifter of Shapes, coiling into a flame of pink-blue laughter. “It was all a trap, don’t you see! The priest has been tainted with the caress of Tzeench, and will lead us to their secret places.” “Hmph, jolly good then, I suppose,” muttered Tristram, grudgingly. “It was Maleroth’s idea,” continued Jimmini, floating aside to reveal a vulture-headed humanoid, who bowed with a demure caw. “There’s a daemon to keep an eye on, I can tell,” said Tristram. “Right, next on the agenda, we have...oh.” He couldn’t contain a tiny shudder. “Oxyotl. Is there even any point in asking if we’re getting close….? Says here he killed my man Klorax. He was a good daemon.” “Killed Roxalin too, best hunter I had,” sighed Wilm, looking wistful. “All those wonderful orgies...to think...never again.” “This is getting ridiculous, chaps. This miserable little chameleon is mocking us. Come on, let’s put our heads together, how are we going to get him?” A hideous gurgling sound presaged a new, sickly voice. “I have an idea,” it said. “You have an idea, do you Blort, Master of Mucus?” “It’s a very good idea,” wheezed Blort, hurt by Tristram’s unsupportive tone. “OK Blort, let’s see if I can guess your idea. Is it, by any chance, to poison him?” “Yes! We should totally poison him! How did you know?” “You already tried poisoning him. The lizard knows poison better than anyone. It’s simply not going to happen, I’m afraid.” The giant bag of immobile pus deflated a little. “If I may, Muncher of Skulls, perhaps I could be permitted to venture a suggestion,” said a clipped, rasping voice that no one was expecting. All eyes, and other sensory organs, turned to the vulture-headed Maleroth. “I suppose so,” replied Tristram after a few moments. “You did do well with the tainted priest thing.” “Of course it was I who supported the-” began Jimmini. “Yes alright, let’s let the birdman speak.” “I suggest,” said Maleroth, studiously, “that we lure Oxyotl out. We know he always appears ahead of time whenever we put one of our schemes into motion. As if he can sense our plans before they happen. I suggest we make a new plan for him to sense. And when he gets there to stop us, we...kill him.” “And how do you propose we do that, pray daemon?” “Well,” said Maleroth, taking a deep breath.