T H E C U P R U N N E T H O V E R


Brothers and sisters of our Malevolent Lord, I will carry the affliction of the punishment you deserve. Upon my body I display His unmerciful hand and I will continue to suffer in your stead, for you have been found unworthy of His discipline.

It was a mercy to you when I and two of that benevolent Lord of Oblivion's Spear tended to the Isle. We waited for months, you know. We waited patiently until enough of your warriors were present to give us a proper showing. And still, with the Tyrannus, Viceroys, and others present, still the Lord's shrines fell in quick succession, yielding to the Sovereignty of Lord Babel. Two of the Spear and an overweight, incompetent priest like myself against seven of the Conqueror Iniquitous' warriors.

Each knell that tolled from Baelgrim rung in proclamation of your disgrace.

"Shame!" it tolled.

"Weakness!", it rung.

"Disgrace!", it resounded.

And so you hid from the Spear. Many would. But oh, you fools. In your shame what did you do? In your humiliation where did your eyes turn? To that same Lord's Crown?!

It was my pleasure to indulge you. Unfit against the Lord's warriors you sought to rekindle your pride by throwing yourself against the weakened body of the Keeper of His Iron Crown. And so we made a deal that day. Before the world, you tooted those war horns with my name carrying on the wind.

Three deaths I promised you. Thrice I answered your call and thrice I was cut down before your blades. Each death filled the chalice with more of my blood, the final death to the Tyrannus flooding the brim and sealing our covenant. Now you must drink the cup that has been set before you.

You have disappointed me and you have disappointed the Lord of Evil. In your wallowing laziness and sexual distractions you have lost your edge. What was once keen and useful in His hand has grown dull and unfocused. Month after month the world laughs at you as bureaucratic parties in Cyrene slaughter you repeatedly and easily dismiss your attempts to show them the Lord's wrath. Will you seek to find a weaker foe, one that perhaps even your warriors might overwhelm? Might I suggest Ashtan to you? That near-vacant city in the north? Surely this may be more to your level. Yes, I know, many of the Spear live there but surely there are periods when their attention is elsewhere.

I will continue to labour on your behalf. I will continue to send more slaves to the Lord's isle, to pad your numbers and inspire you to continue in your devotion to His commandments. You are not yet worthy of the Lord's attention, but soon. For now I carry the Malevolent Lord's truedisfavour, the punishment meant for you. In His wisdom He has spared you His judgement, knowing I am far more equipped to hone you into something once again worthy of Him wielding.

Know that it is out of my love for you that I will not spare you my discipline.


In servitio Malum,

[X] Grandue Xeh'ria, Keeper of the Iron Crown

[A small octagon encircles a raised "II" here, inscribed in thick, amethyst ink]

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Aeguary, in the year 893 AF.