Sapience.

Twice now have the Legions of Woe struck at parts of the world we are all too happy to forget. The towns with names no one remembers, the villagers who may as well have never existed-- and now, never will again. For those of you with hearts of purest gold, this may be enough to spur you to action. If it is not, then hear me now and listen well.

The Prince of Woe will be slain. He will know despair in the doing of this, as all that he has wrought is brought low. All the worlds of Creation until the last day are to whisper of Woe's folly, and nothing that he has built, or blessed, or cherished will be left unbroken.

This world is sick, and it must be cleansed.

So comes the cure. We watched fool after fool challenge our enemies alone, dying in droves to attacks as obvious as ink upon snow, their blood left as fuel for the charnel pyre. If this trend of reckless action taken before thought continues, he will consume us all. And he is not the End that was Promised.

Learn fast or step aside for those who will. You think it is only unclaimed, backwater villages that will see the brambles come creeping?

In service to ruin,
Eoka Nithilar-Tarxun
Voice of the Apocalypse


Penned by my hand on the 16th of Valnuary, in the year 922 AF.