It started so simply. A shudder now and then. Time stopped for some,
passed for others. It was discarded as inconvenience. It worsened.
Little by little, the privileges of a free mind were stripped away.
First, large mental tasks, such as the stronger spells and prayers,
then the smaller, everyday customs, such as meditation and moving
from place to place.
The people of Achaea began to notice as these events and their
implications grew larger and more ominous. Some looked here and
there for quick-fixes, but none could be found. People huddled in
small groups and tried to assess the lingering decadence of our
universe, the only one we've ever known. And still, it worsened.

It wasn't long before the physical was affected, progressing
from minor inconvenience to total paralysis. The people of Achaea
were terrified by this time, but nothing could silence their voices.
Shouts rang out from across the land, asking why this was happening,
what had we done? The skies were silent.

The advance of this bizarre pandemic has stopped, for now, but
the once-free Achaeans have been drugged and tied. Our minds are
unable to focus and there is great difficulty in manipulating our
cumbersome bodies. We pray for deliverance, but remain ignorant as
to whether the gods can hear our plight.

And so we end our prayer,
May Sarapis save us all,
Gretyl, the Mediator

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Glacian, in the year 199 AF.
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