The wind whispered in the chief's ear, calling to him... It spoke in a strange tongue, but the chief could strangely understand the gibberish.
Chief...
You have many hard years ahead, of hardship and pain; but also of warmth and pleasure. This land, however, is cursed; cursed by an ancient, terrible evil that must not be uncovered. You must carve a shrine, a shrine to the gods and the devils of this land, made of only the smoothest of stone and adorned with the richest of gemstones. You must create a temple worthy of respect, and as a signifier of your tribe's potential. Strike the earth with your tools of wood for the resources needed, cut only what is needed from the forest and ensure that future generations will have resources to themselves, by breeding pigs and planting trees. Now, go, my friend - and prosper beneath my watchful eyes.
The chief breathed slowly, the words leaving his ears. The Great Wind's will be done...
Orders Create a temple of smoothstone on a hill nearby; replant all trees cut down; create a breeding area for pigs and other wildlife. Mine for resources needed.