as dictated by Founder, Mhuswys
& Chief Grievance Officer, Ulvin

He left Ashtan. He left Hashan. He left Ashtan;
He left mid-battle, mid-sentence, mid-night.
Cities united in their grief
a thing no god has managed since the light.

Mhuswys built the club. She set the chairs.
As Jarpa left Mhuswys, left Neri, left some other maid.
The Founder not expected the Imperator Ulvin sat down as well,
still armored, and said only:
"He left me in the battle, I'm like you as well."

Nothing more.
Chaos and Darkness sharing the same wine,
for the first time on a long while.

No Sect has ever brokered such a peace.
The list grows long. It grows each passing year.

Mhuswys never loses names.
And somewhere, bright in Targossas's glow,
Jarpa walks on, unbothered and untethered
unaware the army grows,
unaware the chairs runs out.

Careful, Jarpa.
At this rate,
the only city left will be Mhaldor.

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Phaestian, in the year 1001 AF.