Sabiru,

While I recognize that you are obligated to bluster in public as a
function of your position, I believe I will take this opportunity to
enlighten the unwashed masses whose hearts and minds we both hold so
dear. Perhaps at least some of your slaves will recognize the wisdom in
my words.

Mhaldor makes a perilous mistake in judging that this priesthood and its
followers act in the spirit of Bleak's personality cult, the Black
Lotus. This is not the work of any one man or woman, incensed at
perceived grievances - let there be no doubt about this. The very spirit
of Chaos has long cried out to us, and we, the guardians, the keepers,
the servants, have finally answered. We were long overdue.

We hold now to be self-evident a truth which many have come to realize:
there has never been, is not, and never will be common ground for
Mhaldor's Seven Truths and our Nihilism to stand together. We testify to
a prophecy of inescapable ruin; you industriously toil to build a
lasting new world order. We embrace a complete relativism, grant freedom
to explore the infinite plains of mortality's minds, and you bind your
servants with the strictures of Order, controlling thought as well as
action. You mutilate yourselves in the hopes of appeasing jealous
deities; under the auspices of our God, we master the mutilation of the
very realm itself.

Association with Baelgrim has been a longstanding shackle we are well
pleased to finally rid ourselves of.

As for our relevance? I think even you must find this a poor joke,
though I imagine you are in a less-than-festive mood given that the
better half of your military force has suddenly evaporated before your
eyes. Sapience is well acquainted with the words and the works of the
Order of Oblivion. No name, be it that of brooding Apollyon, scheming
Twilight, or wild Pandemonium, plants an insidious, creeping, corrupting
fear in the hearts of the people like that of black Babel.

But then, in my eldritch service, I have visited and held council with
the emperors of a plethora of planes throughout the multiverse. Some of
these empires have lasted many millennia; what is your paltry mountain
and its fortress crown in the broader scheme of things? Indeed, your
collective vanity will outlast it. Accursed are those who build
reputations for the sake of pride, but blessed are they who make way for
the King of Endings. Mhaldor shall bow before the inevitable, along with
all Creation.

Gloirin Silvertongue

Penned by my hand on the 4th of Phaestian, in the year 545 AF.