Heralds and Rumours
Words That Kill.
Bastard City, Wildlands,
992.The winter comes. It begins to creep along the ground like a swift, icy weed that hardens the already unfriendly earth. Very little grew here in the warmer months. Now that old man winter has arrived, nothing grows here at all. Well, except the bushels of war, the crops of soldiers and the seeds of death. This is Bastard City, and I'll be here to see how many bodies the spring thaw reveals next year. Unless one of them is mine.
You may know that things are in upheaval here in the Wildlands. You may have heard that magic has gone mad in much of it, and has gone altogether in some of it. You may have heard that everyone wants a piece of the action, and that there's a great big dust-up coming. You may have heard about all the goody-two-shoes who intend to see this dust-up avoided and innocent lives saved and the natural order restored and blah blah blah. You have only heard what they want you to hear. The shepherds like to tell the sheep that the wolves are on the other side of the fence.
Maybe, just maybe, there are no wolves. Maybe all that's on the other side of the fence is freedom. Maybe the shepherds are lying to you.
You see, there are so many different kinds of people here these days that it's hard to get a straight answer. So what I tell, I tell you in the full expectation that you will take it with a grain of salt. These words I will have smuggled out, through the wall of our enemies which surrounds us. Imagine that, someone risking their very life to smuggle not poisons, not weapons, but words. If you cannot see what is coming for this world, then you may be doomed to live in one where your words are contraband.
We, the lovers of free will; we who are so often despised for wanting to exercise it; we who have never brought harm to those who did not invite it; we who have had no place to call our own, no place to worship in peace; we came here to revel in the majesty of the newly created manifestation of chaos in this wicked realm. We came to celebrate and to answer the call of our hearts. And then the others came.
Those who scorn the power of the common man; those who hate us for seeing past their fallacious laws; those who put down any who oppose them; those who hold the world in their gilded gauntlets; they came here to make certain free will did not go unpunished. They come here to impose order on that which displeases them. They come here to silence us - one way or another. In simple terms, they come here to kill that which they cannot control. Your tithe and your taxes afford them this luxury.
He is here, though. He who will niether bend nor yield to their threats, their posturing or their propaganda. He who was here when this beautiful realm was reborn. He who leads now, with the reluctance of those who are born to lead. In him, we find the tip of the sword that will either stem the tide of blood or make the first cut that leads to war. These were his words to us;
We are gathered here today upon this most holy land. A vision from Delcrorr, stalker of the field of battle, has brought us all here. Thus far our time here has been fraught with complications. We find ourselves arguing amongst ourselves. And where is this arguing getting us? I shall tell you. ABSOLUTELY NOWHERE!
Delcrorr, the colourless dragon, that guides all our paths, has brought us here. However, Delcrorr, cannot fight our battles for us. And be sure battle is soon to be upon us. On the outskirts of what we have claimed as home lie armies of Tyr, the filthy god of order.
Why have they come? They wish to ‘purify’ this land. Yet I say this land is perfect the way it is. This chaotic glory where prey has grown to become hunter, where bird and fish have merged, where the possibilities are endless.
Never before has Delcrorr, our most holy, had a place on this world. A place where his followers could gather by a fire, drink strong mead, and engage in tournaments of valour on the field of battle. Sure there are meeting places, but never a whole territory.
We stand upon a plot of land which has been marked by Delcrorr himself. In the midst of this thriving chaos we can build a fortress. A fortress akin to the Three and Twenty Towers, the home of our most mighty lord. But we must first do two things: we must learn to work together and we have to go to war.
This war, this bloodflow, this oncoming deluge of death is not of our choosing. They have chosen first to starve us out, to besiege us in a land that have no claim upon. Rest assured, we will defend our land, our rights, and our freedom with our lives. Rest assured that if they push us, we will push back. Rest assured that we will not quietly into the night. We will storm and clamour and rage with fury. And life will turn to death in the dance of battle.
There is but one hope to avert conflict, and that is you, dear reader. As I mentioned before, it is your tithe and your taxes that fund this blockade, this seige. It is your voice which can change the course of history. And all you have to do, is ask: Why? Why does that which occurs outside their borders, outside their justice, and in a land which all have beforenow scorned as useless and vile, why does what we do here matter so fiercely to them? Ask them to explain it to you. Ask them why our submission and death is for the greater good.
And when they answer and tell you of the wolves on the other side of the fence, perhaps this time, just this once, you can take a peek and see for yourself.
Thank you for your time.
NB: The above was received via messenger, and was submitted by an independent author with no affiliation to our organisation. Second Sanctum does not endorse this independent piece, nor can we verify the claims herein.