This book is a comprehensive chronicle of the Ceriopolis.

The Ceriopolis was once a

grand city of great hope and salvation for a beleaguered and war torn land. This
place was a beacon of strength, valor, creativity, brilliance and beauty which stood
for millennia against the ravaging hordes which have plagued these lands since
before civilization rose in these lands.
This great and inspired vision of a better world stood brightly in the face of conflict
but was worn to nothing under the grinding wrath of peace and prosperity. Let this
chronicle be a warning to all who come to this place. The events which inspired the
rise and ensured the fall of the Ceriopolis must never be forgotten. This place burns
in the memory of history and may yet again rise to reclaim its place as a symbol of
virtue and chivalry.
If you are a stranger to these lands you may find this chronicle to be filled with
impossible
stories of strange magics and deplorable men. Please do not assume all those who
resided in this great place were forged of the same pitted iron as those who fell.
Many righteous, selfless and valiant beings walked these grounds and fought for a
better world.
This continent has historically been known as Calliphestus, and woe be unto those
who
stumbled across these lands by happenstance. A map of these great lands hangs
not far from this tome, but do not let the beautiful landscape distract you from a very
simple truth. These lands are bitter and deadly at their kindest.
The history of Calliphestus is littered with the ruins and bones of those who rose and
fell
in times of strife and war. The great races all across the continent struggled to
provide a safe homeland for their people. No matter the strength of their arms, the
tenacity of their spirit or the thickness of their walls, safety from the greenskin hordes
was nothing but an illusion. Goblins, Orcs, Gnolls, Scree, Trolls, Ogres, and all
manner of voracious beasts pillaged their way across Calliphestus. Even the most
desperate of the great races abandoned their people and clamored for status
amongst the unstoppable legions which ravaged the lands. These legions brought
war and death upon all who made strides to build a better, safer world. Such insults
to their unchallenged power could not be suffered.
To reference a kingdom is to suggest oaths of fealty, fairytale knights in shining
armor
standing steadfast in defense of their noble leaders, the politics of courts and
chivalry. Let me
quell this assumption before I continue. I was born in a time of great turmoil and
safety was
never a luxury we could afford. A king or queen was simply the unfortunate soul who
inherited the
crown after the previous bearer was killed, usually in battle with the Savage Legions.
Do not let this suggest the great civilizations of these lands lacked for inspiration or
defiance in the face of oppression. The saar to the south had erected great castles
with walls 10
feet thick, the Fae Folk hid the silkleaf forests with intricate enchantments which
confused and
diverted unwelcomed guests, and the dwarves fled to the top of the world and carved
out great

caverns for safety from the hordes which dogged them without relent.
It did not matter. The castles were reduced to rubble, the forests were rooted out and
burned and the Legions ensured the caverns became host to unspeakable plague
and terrors.
The races were struggling to stand tall against the endless raiders and were clinging
to each
victory. They understood they still remained one defeat from becoming slaves to the
Savage
Legions. Their cities and villages were pillaged, fields were burned, and their men
and their
homelands suffered one and the same.
Desperation and despair hung upon all of the kingdoms and nations like a rancid
stench
which could not be smothered. No matter how well a battle went or how sturdy a new
fortress
seemed, it was nothing but a symbol of defiance to a nigh unstoppable force. People
had little
spirit left to fight. My father was taught to fight by his grandfather who stood against
the legions
and I had watched my sons and grandsons slain by the legions. We all knew we
could not keep
this up forever. Something had to change but no one knew what to change or how to
change it.
I will preface this with a concern. I find that some amongst the great races are unable
to
resist castings aspersions on the character of others. They find the suggestion the
wandering
nomads amongst us were burdened with the vision of a great bastion of protection to
be comical
or insulting. Why would nomads work to create a place of asylum for all members of
the great
races who sought refuge? Those people would have been wise to keep their
preconceptions of
the wanderers to themselves. They suffered as we suffered. Many did not notice
because they
moved their homes to avoid the coming fury. They were the most mobile and familiar
with the
backwoods paths of Calliphestus. It was a small group amongst them who spread
out to each of
the races, bringing word of a great gathering deep in the whirling chaos of the
Raging Plains.
Most scoffed at the suggestions of these vagrants, some even spat or injured them
for their
wisdom. It is sad how some bring pain upon others as a reaction to their own
shortcomings and
failures.
Maybe it was the ebbing chaos of unyielding wars, unbridled magics and abandoned
dreams of peace and safety, but the grand idyllic goal of a better home for all in the
land almost

sounded like a bedtime fable. The nomads waxed poetic about a prophecy. They
would ramble
about the great potential deep in the heart of the Savage plains surrounded by those
who carried
no respect for the will of great men. They claimed destiny was watching and from
this place
would rise the greatest bastion of safety the world had ever known. I remember how
they said it.
On the edge of the tempestuous sapphire comes a rising ruin. Deep in the darkness
and
engulfed in evil, the weakness of greatness shall be forgotten and the strength of
virtue shall rise
above the deafening drums of war.
I dismissed the ramblings of the wanderers at first because they are known for being
of
questionable moral character. They would come and go from our cities and villages
bringing
word of the condition of the other nations. Rumors suggested they were not doing
well. The
Verdant Eyrie was said to have lost the Dawn Gates and been pillaged and scourged
all the way
to the starfall crescent. The south fared no better. The great curtain wall of the
Keizumani had
fallen and most of the peninsula was in ruins. The capital had fallen in the attack and
they had
taken to ship. The wanderers did not know to where. The Visukahn of the great
Elaran Jungles
harried the Savage Legions for every inch but they were said to have lost the ford
and much of
their southern jungles were afire. The Black Peaks were said to have lost most of the
southern
fields and were pinned in. The wanderers were not even able to gain access by their
secret
gates and paths. There was no place on Calliphestus which did not fear for their
sovereignty.
I could not shake this feeling like this prophecy was more than just words from a
charlatan. I brought my concerns to the local council of leaders. I was met with
laughter and
jeers. They made me look a fool before the gathering and mocked me as I departed.
All these
years later and I can still remember the chuckles which brimmed with disdain. I
walked slowly
back to my post, even though the night was bitter cold. My breath clouded the air in
front of me
and I considered if the leaders were right to dismiss my concerns. I had almost given
up when I
was abruptly jolted from my reverie by several youthful soldiers. They came upon me
in a
strange manner. They were trying too hard to seem uninterested in what was going

on, almost
comically goonish in their attempt at nonchalance.
They, with complete absence of subtlety and guile, gestured for me to join them
down an
alley. I guess I was overwhelmed by their complete incompetence because I followed
with little
objection. As soon as we were off the street their demeanor shifted. They almost
seemed
excited. The largest of them spoke. I remember he could not have seen more than
16 summers,
but towered above the others. His curly brown hair reminded me of my grandsons.
His named
was Ricard. He was the millers son. I am surprised I remember. He said they were
sent to
escort me by Elder Hisne. The elder sent his apologies for laughing in the gather but
he could not
be seen supporting an insane idea in public, especially when it came from damnable
gypsies. I
snorted in derision but gathered my pack anyway. I guess I was going to be chasing
geese after
all.
We met the nomad who was to guide us at the back gate. She was a ragged thing.
She
seemed young but all skin and bones with sunken eyes and sallow skin. She had a
look about
her which suggested she was in need of pity and protection but I knew better than to
believe a
nomad was unable to care for herself. I was not surprised when I realized she had
swiped my
dagger before we made it out the back gate. She was nice enough for a sticky
fingered vagrant. I
realized later it is always hard to tell the age of the wanderers. Their sojourn is a
hard life and it
shows on their skin, if you look beyond the paint and jewels and scarves.
The girl led us up the muddy back hills and down goat trails to avoid what little
semblance
of roads our kingdom had left. We had several encounters with scouts from the
savage legions.
Mostly goblins which were easily dispensed. Apparently they would not be missed.
The legions
fought with each other as much as they fought with the kingdoms. The legions were
said to be
like whirling storms of chaos and destruction which eradicated everything in their
path. A few
missing scouts would just be attributed to one of the other hordes. I learned a lot
from her on the
trip. After the third goblin she gutted with my dagger I just let her keep it. She was
making better
use of it than I.

It took us two months to make the full journey. Each morning was cold as ice and I
woke
feeling damp and stiff. I was too old to be running off chasing fairy tales, but spirits
remained high
amongst the young soldiers. They did not seem to understand we were on a
ridiculous hike into
the most dangerous part of our lands and it was unlikely we would return. It was two
weeks into
the march or maybe three, I do not recall but it does not matter, but I received a
frantic
whispering wind from Elder Hisne. I cannot recall all of the details but it
communicated our walls
were breached and most of the elders were dead. He said the legion had raided in
force and our
kings keep was surrounded and likely to fall. My home was lost. We were
devastated. I had to
stop and rest. The soldiers were no longer in such spirits after I told them. The walk
from then on
was a somber march.
When we arrived we found nothing but a mud hut on a hill sloping down to a lake. I
recall
looking inside the mud hut and seeing an ancient old hag, a wild witch mixing herbs
in wooden
bowls and rubbing them on a strange crystal. She was mumbling something about
wisdom and
knowledge. Despite her advanced age she seemed quite spry. I was not sure what to
think. I had
marched with a detachment of young men and women seeking a chance at a better
world and
all I found was a mud hut inhabited by a woman almost as old as I was. I thought I
had been had.
I thought I had marched off when my people needed me most only to be made a fool
of by
tricksters and thieves. I did not think I would ever have a home again.
I am told I just sat down and stared off blankly for several hours. I did not feel the
cold
which seeped into my bones but I felt it when I came to. I remember I heard a bit of
motion from
behind me but I was so awash in my despair I did not even notice when the
entourage from the
Verdant Eyrie arrived. They came with little fanfare in comparison to their usual
pomp and
circumstance. They were wearing simple armor in drab colors. The biata seemed no
worse
from their travels but they bore ill tidings from their home. The moon gates were
damaged
beyond repair and the sky gates were sundered. Most of Skyhaven had been
pillaged but the
keep still remains stalwart for now. The Savage Legion which assaulted them had

since moved
south. Likely when they heard my kingdom was crushed and they could move about
with
impunity.
We gathered food for several and made camp. There was barely enough room
inside of
that mud hut to sleep the crone and the child, so I ordered the soldiers to start
making camp. It
was with the first sound of the hammer on spike the crone scurried out from her
hovel. They
know that sounds! They know that sound! she was half mad with her objections.
SHHHHH!!!!
Put those tents away. You will sleep in the cellar, out of the cold and prying eyes of
those who
care not for you. Same with the biata. The look on their faces betrayed their
demeanor. They
were as confused as we were. I did not understand how a ramshackle mud hut
would have a
cellar big enough to house us. As it turns out I was wrong. It was a significant root
cellar filled
with food and debri. It seemed like anything the hag had ever found had been thrown
down there,
in case it was needed. We organized the heaping piles of useless broken crap into a
corner and
carved out spaces for each of us to sleep and went to bed. The floor was rocky and
uneven but I
remember feeling like I slept for a week.
The next few weeks were a blur. I remember the old shrew would look up from her
pots
and bowls a few hours before anyone new arrived. She had the young girl wander
out and greet
them. All number of the great races came to meet us. I was always shocked when I
heard of
new arrivals. I could hardly believe these men and women were as foolish and
desperate as I
was.
These envoys were not simple desperate farmers or errant knights. Some were
known
amongst the lands for their strength of arm or unconditional kindness of spirit. They
were walking
legends who stood tall in the darkest of times whom I was greeting. The Vigilant
Sisters came
from the lands in the north and were known for travelling the lands healing the sick
and defending
the weak. The Obsidian Brotherhood, led by Talaric of Moondale, came from the
eastern
riverlands and were known for stalking the Savage Legions and killing any stragglers
who
wandered too far from the campfire. The Order Canlis was a group of Biata, led by

the Ebony
Knight, dedicated their lives to stopping the Savage Legion after they burned their
college and
took their families as slaves. More would come including Morinagihn Oakshield and
his band of
Dwarves as well as the blacksmith Leoveril of Shadow Fen who escaped the siege
on the Dark
Elves in the south to seek aid. Most who came, however, were unknown and would
die unknown,
a forgotten sacrifice for a better world.
It was there, huddled in a damp dark earthen cellar with torches nearly smothered to
avoid being spotted, was a gathering of the scraps of men and elves and dwarves.
Desperate
voices from almost all the great races finally finding brethren they had been yearning
for. These
men came from across Calliphestus and brought nothing but the clothes on their
back and a
dream. This meeting was no place for pomp and pageantry. Everyone who was here
knew the
truth of how dire their plight was.
In our most dire hour these brave men and women struck forth into near certain
death.
They came on the thinnest of hope that the ancient spirits, which were believed to be
either
spiteful and petty or complete myth, could somehow do something... anything. We
were brothers
in arms standing before strangers proclaiming We must strive to be in our hearts the
greatness
we dream and hope for the world. The heart of Calliphestus is great and full of
wonders for those
who strive to embody justice, hope, vigilance and the virtues of a legend. Let nothing
enter our
hearts but love, joy, bravery and chivalry and let us strive for a life worthy of such
ideals.
The coming nights brought vows of service to the land and to their people as they
pledged to
forge a new age from the tattered rags of oppression, slavery, and war. The vision for
a new
future, free of the shackles of fear and oppression, was at hand. These lands and
these men
and women gathered their strength in the face of an unrelenting storm. This place
was host to
these vows and declarations. This place was marked and after the pacts were forged
it was
named. This would be known as the Ceriopolis.
I remember feeling calm amongst my new brethren and we were inspired. Our pacts
were forged in purity of spirit like the oaths sworn at the Heartsmoots of old, and we
had called
out to the ancient Animus. We were prepared to return to our kingdoms and bring

word of our
gathering. We wanted to celebrate before we departed. Morinagihn had carried a
single cask of
ale from his homeland. We started to fill the few cups and tankards we had available.
I
remember I was just about to take my first sip when the hag came barrelling into the
cellar. My
tankard was knocked from my hands and emptied on the floor in front of me. I was
furious for a
moment before I realized what she was saying. Coming, they are coming. I have
seen it in the
leaves and the bones. They come for us!
Confusion brought our merriment to an abrupt halt. We were a mass of questions.
Well,
they were. I was still in shock for having lost my tankard. I cannot believe I still
remember this so
clearly. They asked her how long we had, where were they coming from, should we
run? I do not
know if they thought she would have an answer. All we knew is we were not going to
die without
a fight.
The Savage Legions was incapable of truly understanding the valiance or
unrelenting
dedication of those they came to pillage. The dirt and mud of the hovel was fortified
as best we
were able and dirt mounds were piled for defenses and little else. The time was short
and the
supplied were limited. The piles of broken metal in the cellar were melted down and
reforged into
anything we needed in a haphazard smithy which Leoveril cobbled together. It was
poor quality,
uneven, ashy, and it and vented heat like water from a sieve and was one of the
most beautiful
piles of rubbish I have ever had the displeasure of using. The broken wood was
sharpened into
pikes for the dirt walls. I remember thinking if we are going to die today, the legions
will never
forget us. I was intent on drowning in the blood of my enemies before letting them
strike me
down.
The Savage Legion came in the night, the fire of their torches and pounding of their
drums heralding their arrival. They came for us at first dawn and threw wave after
wave of
goblins, orcs, and trolls against us, but were decisively broken against our gathered
force's
unyielding fortitude. The vigilant sisters were a group of five elven sisters from the
north. It is said
trolls breached the western walls during the siege and goblins flooded in but were
fought with

such voracity the five sisters plugged the gaps in the walls with the scorched flesh of
the
attacking greenskins. The western walls ended the fight sturdier and higher than
when the fight
started, chalked full of broken swords, slagged chainmail and a mound of the goblins
who failed
to resurrect. The Ebony Knight stood upon the north wall and never left his post for
the entire
siege. Day came and went and he stood upon the wall as a symbol of the
unrelenting dedication
of the great races. He parted a troll and its head with a single stroke of his sword
and never
flinched in the face of the coming onslaught. Leoveril continued to forge weapons
and armor
through the siege. He was pounding out arrowheads faster than any ten men could
on a real
forge. He was nearly one with his hammer and his craft was his passion.
The following weeks did not bring an end to the conflicts and skirmishes, but the
strength
of the legion had been dashed upon the meager dirt walls. The stragglers were left to
crawl back
to the Raging Plains in search of a new legion to serve or snipe at passing travellers
who would
risk the crossing.
Word spread quickly of the legion's defeat and suddenly the city was born. The mud
hovel was a point of hope for the desperate masses of all races seeking refuge and
safety. The
eyes of all were suddenly thrust upon a small hillside with dirt mounds for walls and
barely
enough ramshackle buildings for those there already. The time had come for
leadership and
focus. Those desperate enough to risk their lives were coming but the fortress was
not yet built.
Time was short and the legion would not stay broken for forever.
It was a matter of weeks before the first refugees arrived. We scrambled to put
together
what shelter we could but we had to move the defensive walls out, cut the trees, dig
the pilings
and do everything required to help make space. Even then, we had no way of
knowing the
amount of people who would risk the Raging Plains for a chance at safety. We were
grossly
unprepared. We lacked food, we lacked housing, we lacked any of the supplied
needed to help
those coming. It was not the legions we should have been fearing, it was desperate
men and
woman seeking a chance at life.
Those who arrived were engulfed in the unbridled chaos of virtuous minds all trying
to

work for a greater home, but with no idea how. Pathways around the hamlet were
crooked,
narrow and without solid need or purpose. Crates, packs, satchels and any number
of random
belongings choked the few main paths around the makeshift hall. Sickness was not
uncommon
amongst those who arrived, but they found they had nowhere to go or to seek
healing when they
arrived. The crone did what she could but they were tucked into any corner we could
find.
It was a few small groups that began working towards helping create buildings and
shelter for the terrified masses who were unable to protect themselves. The Vigilant
Sisters took
turns standing sentry on the walls while the others tended the sick and helped find
places to
house those most in need. They had a single bedroll for the five of them because
only one slept
at any given moment. There was never the time. The Order Canlis focused on
educating all who
wished to learn about healing, herbalism, botany, hunting and hawking. The
Obsidian
Brotherhood organized groups of able bodied youth to strike out under the cover of
darkness and
kill the small packs and scouts belonging to the larger legions. Leoveril gathered
what metal he
could from the arriving travellers and forged them into anything which was needed.
He taught
anyone who sought to smith the skills needed to gather and forge. I was part of
Morinagihns
logging unit which struck out to fall trees and bring them back to be worked. These
efforts were
benevolent but ultimately futile in face of the overwhelming amount of people who
needed help
and were streaming in every day.
The wanderers brought whispers that the other kingdoms had seen little danger from
the
Savage Legions since our victory, but I did not realize the danger it meant for us. I
did everything I
could to help but unfortunately it would not be until the Day of Fear and Blood came
upon the
Ceriopolis that both the people and I truly understood the vast danger which we were
in. The
Savage Legions had shied away from our encampment after having its nose
bloodied, but now
they had returned and had the fearsome goblin blood shaman at its head. I am sure
he had a
name, Kharzukan maybe. He wore fire like clothing and was heralded by the
screams of wailing
goblins afflicted with elements bound to their flesh, though I do not think the desires

of the goblins
to be involved was of much consideration. The assault came upon us quickly and we
were not
prepared. Hundreds of defenseless men, women and children perished, maybe
thousands.
The Vigilant sisters and the Ebony Knight were the first to rally, but already blood
and chaos was
upon us. The expanded walls and buildings were not manned and goblins, orcs and
trolls spilled
over the walls like the rising tide.
The youngest vigilant sister organized for the weakest amongst us to be hastily
escorted
to the cellar beneath the hall for their safety and everybody else of able body rallied
to fight the
oncoming hordes. I watched the blood shaman claw his way upon the western wall
and incite
fiery chaos amongst those fleeing from him. His bodyguards were massive black
trolls wreathed
in burning runes. He called forth columns of living flame which contorted and
expanded when it
consumed living flesh. They were horrifying and nigh unstoppable. The assault came
from all
sides. Everything was screaming and fire.
I rallied behind the eldest of the Vigilant Sisters, Nahinia, and she led the charge to
assault the blood shaman. He was perched on the walls of the encampment,
showering fire
upon any inside the city without regarding for their allegiances. The Order of Canlis
and the
Obsidian Brotherhood were desperately trying to rally a defense for those inside the
hall. Some
defenders threw down their weapons and begged for mercy but were only met with
death.
The decision was made to displace the blood shaman from his position, but it was
uphill and his
guards were fearsome. The assault upon the blood shaman and his trolls was brutal
and most
of those who charged died in the attack, but it was Nahinia who closed ground and
struck the
final blow against the Blood Shaman. I had managed to dispatch a pair of goblins
when I turned
to see if my aid was needed. As Nahinias blade pierced the goblins neck and he
fell, he gurgled
and his twisted face contorted to a depraved smile. His skin began to crackle like fat
on a hot
skillet as he feebly lunged at Nahinia.
Then he was consumed in an exploding twisted maelstrom of clashing elements
which
engulfed Nahinia and a few with the misfortune of being close by. I can only hope
she was killed

nearly instantly. That conflux of elements hung there like a spectacle waiting for a
crowd. Then I
was flying. I skidded to a halt on the ground like a tumbling stone. I could feel my
arm was broken
before I opened my eyes and my ribs were crushed but it was not until I opened my
eyes that I
realized I was one of the lucky ones. The Ebony Knight was being tended but I could
only
determine it was him by his armor. The Vigilant Sisters were nowhere to be seen.
The Order
Canlis was leading a ragged band of anyone willing to fight, and seemed to be
running down the
remaining goblins but it was too late for the majority of those who were close to the
blast. I
attempted to rise and fight the remaining marauders, but everything went dark.
When I awoke I learned I also had a broken leg and had passed out from the pain.
By the
time the healers got to me the fight was over and they decided to tend my broken leg
but let me
heal naturally instead of jarring me awake with magic. The blast had scorched nearly
everything
in sight. Most of the fires had been put out, but the damage was still significant. I
struggled to my
feet to see the carnage and was nearly overwhelmed. I limped through the streets.
They were no
longer filled with partially packed trunks and bed rolls. Now the streets were rife with
bloody
clothing, discarded weapons, broken armor, the broken clay of alchemists globes.
The worst
were the bodies. Goblins, Orcs and people of all races just lying in the street with the
stare of the
dead blankly watching. The survivors stepped over them in desperation, hoping to
find a building
with a lockable door that was not being consumed by fire.
I can still remember a little girl seeing me and climbing out from under the goblin
corpse
she hid under. Her blond hair was matted with blood and dirt. She clutched my one
good leg with
all her might and refused to let go. She was not really making words, just sobbing. I
carried her
over to the cellar and eventually found her sister who was frantically looking for her
family... any
member of her family. People were panicking and any semblance of order was gone.
People
needed hope.
The following days were mayhem. I was still healing and flux was making its way
through
the bodies of the dead. Food was scarce and order was absent. I was not entirely
sure the

Ceriopolis was going to survive its infancy. The remaining 4 Vigilant Sisters had
gathered swiftly
and with diligence to organize a healing effort. Morinagihn was unrelenting in his
protection and
expansion of defenses to accommodate the expanding populace. The Order Canlis
conscripted
all young men of an age to fight and taught them the skill of spear, bow and shield.
Leoveril built
and then almost never left his forge.
The great minds who built the Ceriopolis were true of heart and born of greatness
but
most of them were at a loss as to how to organize a populace. They were warriors
and healers,
not bureaucrats or exchequers. Their ideas were altruistic and bold, but the people
were
desperate and unruly. We all did our best but we realized we were at a loss. We
needed
something but how did you seek what had been lost. We needed to remember the
old ways. I
guess I was not alone in my thoughts.
The hag gathered all of the city leaders together in the creepy cellar. That dank
space
was shockingly clean and arranged around the large oddly shaped gem she seemed
to use for
divination. She kept mumbling it is time, it is time while getting everybody seated. I
do not know
how she got all the leadership to take time away, but even Leoveril left his forge to
attend. Once
everyone was seated she just walked up the ladder and left us. We had no
inclination about her
goals but she appeared to have left a small crumpled piece of parchment on top of
the gem. I
was not the one who opened it but I remember the confusion on the readers face.
He looked up
from the scrap of paper and said What does use it and remember the moot mean?
I have always thought that old shrew was at least half mad and at that particular
moment
I was fairly certain I was off by half. The old harpy seemed to have vanished and left
us sitting in
a dirty pit on makeshift chairs and benches surrounding a piece of crystal. I had to
laugh
because the only other option was crying. Most others seemed to be just as lost as I
was. It was
several minutes before I spotted Morinagihn and his brothers quietly squabbling in
the corner
about something. I stood up so I might be able to walk over and quietly inquire but
my motion
seemed to draw attention. All eyes turned to me and then slowly to the dwarves who
were the

only ones who did not notice. I remember feeling a bit foolish at that moment.
Morinagihn rose from his seat and he was not great at hiding his demeanor. He
obviously
felt uncomfortable but the other dwarves seemed insistent. He began speaking of a
childhood
tale which is a common story amongst their people of the ancient dwarves who
would invoke
spirits to seek their wisdom. The story said something about using a speaking stone
to call the
spirits. I recall being almost offended at the suggestion we were sitting around a
mythical stone
from a childs fairytale. Then one of the Vigilant started talking about a story from
their home but it
was a stone which you used to get spirits to help you find lost loved ones. Every
different group
seemed to have some old wives tale which involved a strange stone which did
something
fantastic... except for us. I remember Ricard leaning over and asking me if we were
the only
civilization which had such calming bedtime stories as Hold this spear and do not
die. I was
deeply saddened at the truth of the statement. I sometimes wonder if we had them
once and
they were just lost to years of hard living and war. But I digress.
We posited as a group as to whether or not the strangely shaped gem could be one
of
these stones. Some of us, myself included, were fiercely skeptical of this idea. I
could not fathom
how some tall tale could possibly be useful. We argued for a long time. It was the
first time we
had not totally agreed. The fight did not lack for passion but eventually we came to a
resolution.
We would try using the stone. If those who sought its use were wrong they looked
stupid and
soldiered on. If they were right then maybe we needed to revisit our bedtime stories.
We all
wanted to make a better world. Even those who thought the course of action to be
petulant were
quietly hopeful.
The Ebony Knight was elected to attempt to commune with the gem. He probably
spent a
couple of hours observing and analyzing before he stepped up and placed his hands
upon the
gem. A slight breeze seemed to gently mingle through the room before a gentle rosy
glow
radiated from the gem. I remember the shock I felt when it lit up. For a moment it
seemed as if
time had stopped. I felt as if I was being judged for past transgressions. I felt proud
and scared

and ashamed all at once. I tried to stay calm but others did not fare as well. The
room filled with
a lashing wind and then all at once we were surrounded by brilliant refracting light.
The feeling of
judgement and fear calmed.
It was in that moment of true and unfettered dedication to selflessly creating a better
world for others, that they came. The voices of Calliphestus. The Animus. Those who
watch the
lands from a distance, some with restraint and some with intent, and they came to
bring their
wisdom to those whom they felt worthy. They remained distant and skeptical of the
Heartsmoot
for quite some time. I was astounded they came. I had never really allowed myself to
believe the
stories of the Heartsmoots of old. I remember watching them analyze the actions and
emotions
of all who spoke and judge their intent. Some of us were great orators and some
were simple,
ernest, genuine men and women who cared for nothing but making the world a
better, kinder,
safer place.
The Animus spoke of the greatness of past civilizations and how far Calliphestus had
fallen. They spoke of what had been lost to the ravages of the savage legions and
how deeply
saddened they were. Cowardice which had frozen the great races in fear and
lassitude. I
remember they looked upon us for quite some time and spoke of their hope for a
better
Calliphestus, a land where our selfless deeds were not epic or noteworthy but simply
kind. They
called upon us to rebuild the rubble of great ideas and tame the savage legions.
They asked us if
we would risk everything for children we would never meet. They asked if we
objected to dying
nameless and without glory in the name of service to a world which would likely
never know or
thank us for our sacrifice. To a man each and every leader amongst us stood and
offered their
skills and dedication to a better world.
The great Ministerium was forged that night. It founded in 8 parts as a beacon to all
the
great races, a symbol of what could achieve through trust, chivalry and cooperation.
The 8
houses were forged in service to the lands stretching to each corner of the continent,
each with
separate tenets to govern their goals and responsibilities. The stories of their
achievements are
truly of an epic measure but many are lost to the whispers of time eternal.
I managed to save these pages from a scribed text about the houses.

Each house was led in service by a Dominus. They were the truest and most
devoted to
the tenets of their house. They served as an unflinching example of virtue and
chivalry. I cannot
speak to the enchantments which were bound to the houses and their leaders but it
was not the
members of a house which chose a Dominus. The Dominei would rise and fall on
their virtue
alone. They were walking beacons of their tenets and strove to ensure they were the
greatest of
their possible ideals.
These houses would be the home to some of the greatest dreamers, generous
philanthropists, visionary magicians, inspired musicians, skilled generals, valiant
warriors,
chivalrous knights and dedicated servants of Calliphestus to ever walk the lands.
Their vision for
the future would build the Scholastic Auraborium which would seek to ensure
education for all
who sought to learn, they would help create the Binding Rise which crafted a city
wide
proscription against all of the monstrous races and imbued the fields with magic to
ward off
pests and disease, as well as advance magical rituals to make life better for all
residents of the
Ceriopolis. The houses would build stalwart and intelligent defenses to protect from
the Savage
Legions, whom never relented in their mission to destroy all which had been built.
They would
cure diseases and plague, make great advances in agriculture, forge cleaner steel,
and foster
the world's greatest artists and the most respected army. They were without fear or
limitation
and did it while fending off the looming threat of the Savage Legions. Over the 4
millenium which
the Ceriopolis stood mighty, the legions fell to their own impotent rage, consumed by
their
inability to inspire terror as they once did. They grew weak, and the threat of their
presence was
all but dismissed.
Those golden years were known as the Age of Enlightenment and life was great. I
have
spent most of my life either in the Ceriopolis or as an envoy on behalf of the
Ceriopolis. It was
truly a blow when the time had came for many of our ancient leaders to pass on. The
leaders
realized they had lived far too long. They had watched generations of their friends
die as they
lived on, seemingly immune to clutching grasp of age and time. They watched their
most trusted

knights grow old and die around them and then their children, and then their
childrens children.
They found they created a blessed place of learning, chivalry and hope but it was
filled with
thousands of faces they did not know. This place was no longer meant for them.
It was a somber day in the Ceriopolis as these ancient forces for kindness and
justice
announced to their houses they were leaving. I still remember the Ebony Knight's
speech. This
sacred place was forged in war and strife, built upon the rubble of those who came
before us
and carved into greatness by those willing to sacrifice themselves for the idea of a
better
tomorrow. While this place has finally found peace and brought low the forces of the
Savage
Legions, this world still has greater needs to be met. I believe the creation of this
place has made
our home a better and safer home. This is a place where the spirits of those who
came here,
fought here, died here would be proud of. However, I am not meant to sit in chairs
and rule a city.
I am a simple servant of a greater wisdom and I have shared all I have to share. This
place of
peace and contemplation is not for me anymore. I have lived lifetimes longer than I
could ever
have dreamed, but I was forged in the fires of war and have no skill at settling
disputes or judging
the petty crimes of men. This place belongs to the people, and the Ministerium is
bound in
service to ensure this place stays humble, in service to the ideas and tenets of truth,
justice,
chivalry, bravery and hope. Above all hope. Do not mourn my departure or fear the
future. This is
your time to create greatness and forge a world better tomorrow than it was when
you awoke
today." I was not present for the other speeches that day, but I was told they were
much the
same.
It is said the Ebony Knight returned to Canlis to build a memorial to his family, he
said he
could still remember exactly where it was. The Sisters left to bring their hope and
wisdom to the
troubled remnants of the Prashapti Empire to the west. Talaric and many of the older
members
of the Obsidian Brotherhood went back to the western river lands to find Moondale.
Morinagihn
struck north for the trident to return to the great cavern palaces of his people.
Leoveril sought out
his old forge in the south, somewhere amongst the black peaks. They took little more

than they
came with and they seemed more at peace than I had seen them in many, many
years past. I
believe they were spirits struck with a calling to bring love and hope to this world.
They were
never at peace unless they were making the world better.
The resolve of those who inherited the immense burden of leadership proved more
of a
challenge than they could bear. The trials of peace were far more delicate to traverse
than those
war forged races were prepared to face. They did not have leaders of impeccable
kindness and
chivalry to set an example and within a few centuries the fractures began to form in
the ideals of
the Ceriopolis. The problems were small at first, simple disagreements on how to
handle
problems or conflicts in the city. The Houses were acting arbitrators for conflict, but
struggled
with finding amicable resolutions. The problems became worsened by perceptions of
bias and
racism between the ancient races and the vibrant races. The vibrant races worked
for swift
action and harsh punishments for those who broke the law, while the ancient races
tended
towards patience and reparations. The vibrant races felt patronized and the ancient
races felt
disrespected. I did not understand it at the time, but the true schism amongst the
Ceriopolis
began with self imposed segregation. The inner structure of the city remained largely
intact, but
the ancient races retained the older, northern district of the city and the vibrant races
moved
south into the newer and less established districts. The disparity between the two
districts was
almost immediately noticed and just served to stoke the coals of a much larger fire.
The polarizing separation led to frustrations which spread to all corners of the city.
Even
discussions held on the floor and hosted before the Pax Quorum resulted in tempers
flared and
arguments fueled by bias and bigotry. It was almost as if the Pax Quorum had
ceased to
function entirely or was making the matters worse. I was unable to discern why the
Pax was not
helping, but the situation was driving the younger races to the brink of civil discourse
and beyond.
I remember the day it all came to a head. The day was cloudy and a little bit wet. The
Ministerium
had gathered in the great hall to address grievances amongst the populace and all
was blissfully

boring. A blessed reprieve from the constant bickering and shouting which had been
choking the
halls of our great city. That held until the ambassador to the Verdant Eyrie frantically
surged into
the council chamber demanding aid from the council. His embassy was being burned
by a mob
of vibrant races which were demanding they depart the city or stop perpetuating their
vaunted
ideas of superiority in the Ceriopolis.
The Equotem of several houses were already marching out to meet the rising threat
of
the growing mob. The chaos of the governing suite was palpable. I nearly bowled
over an elder of
the Wylderkin who was desperately trying to get the attention of his party. It took me
several
minutes to get to the walls where I could see what was going on. The House of Fate
and Fury
and the House of Base and Reason had both arrived quickly, but not before the
embassies for
Elara, the Verdant Eyrie and Waupani were burned and dozens were killed.
The leaders of the mob were youthful but they did not lack for support amongst their
community. The representatives for each of the races which made up the mob
vocally declared
their actions justified when you considered their persecution. The Ministerium was
called to
congress with all of the leaders in the Ceriopolis, a great moot to address the
conflicts of our
great city and forge a path for the future.
Time moved slowly over the two days before the great moot was called. The fables
of the
great moots were still spoken of, but a rare few had been called in the millenia since
the
Ceriopolis was founded and none since the fall of the Savage Legions. The halls of
governance
were large but simple, never indulging too deeply in ceremony or opulence. There
was a seat for
each Dominus raised above the gallery housing their plebians. Then across the hall
was a seat
for each kingdom and galleries behind them as well. Then there was spaces on the
floor for the
accused. The spaces above were carved in the visages of the animus who have
come before to
hear the calls of men and share their wisdom.
The gathering in the halls of our great founders was full to capacity. Each house was
present with all of their members, each embassy gallery was full and the accused
were so many
in numbers they spilled out of the hall and into the street. I could almost taste the
contempt and
frustration in the air. The moot began with the great calling of spirits to gather and

give wisdom
but the animus never came. It was not uncommon for them to be unwilling to grace
our halls, but
something felt wrong and I was not the only one who noticed. It was that moment a
small group
of us realized we have a much larger problem. The Pax Quorum no longer looked
benevolent on
its marble pedestal. I wish I would have thought more of it at the time.
Before I could get too distracted the debate of guilt began. At least it was supposed
to be
a debate. It rapidly descended into a war of words. It was hard to keep track of the
events during
the bedlam which was occurring and the screaming and finger pointing by all the
leadership
including the Equotem. Men of great character were reducing to shouting to be heard
and all
sense of rule was gone. I was genuinely terrified someone was going to throw the
first spell. I
had no escape. If someone lit the fuse, this madness was sure to explode.
The resolution for the crimes was the subject of the moot, but it was not the result.
Kelvie
Moraine, the voice of the human envoy from the city state of Golden Spire, was the
first person to
gain control of the floor and she was also the last person to speak. I still clearly
remember her
first few sentences before they were drowned by cheers and shouts. This place
holds nothing
for those of us who wish to act. We have homes away from this place. We have the
Golden
Spire, we have the Endless Reaches, we have anywhere but here. Follow me from
this place
and let us go home. She had proposed those who felt they could not be heard pack
and leave
the Ceriopolis. She told them it was time to return their homelands. She dropped to
the floor from
her seat and led a march through the mass of bodies out to the street. She made no
effort to
stop them from demonstrating their discontent all the way back to the southern
district. Buildings
were damaged, windows were broken and people were injured on the way. In the
annals of time,
I believe this riot will be known as the end of the Age of Enlightenment and I weep to
this day for
what was lost that hot summer afternoon.
The exodus was massive and took a few days and to suggest it was pleasant would
be a
monumental untruth. The Ministerium took to the streets to maintain as much order
as possible,
but members of their own ranks were deeply affected by the departure of friends and

families.
Altercations in the streets were not uncommon and the anger amongst the ancient
races was
palpable. The humans are said to have set out to reclaim the southern peninsula
from the
creatures who plagued it. The Sarr went to the reaches south of the Black Peaks to
hunt for
greater prey. One by one they left. Hoblings, Barbarians, Gypsies, Dwarves, even
the Folk left to
find what was left of their beloved Vales. It was a devastating year which left the
great Ceriopolis
with but a few great minds. I walked the southern district to ensure no more violence
occurred
and it was a ghost town. I watched the last of them leave. I waved goodbye and even
helped an
old woman with her small satchel as far as I could.
It did not take long before the reports of attacks on the chapter houses of the
Ministerium
started coming in from the kingdoms. Misplaced frustrations and racial tensions
caused
escalating situations. Many houses members returned from their chapter houses
with nothing
more than clothing and a list of those who did not survive the trip.
The remaining races were ultimately too few in number to maintain what had been
built.
The bazaar was only a fraction of what it once was and the merchant district streets
were
barren. The few remaining vibrant races took up residence in the south, but it was
left derelict.
The fields went untended, and though food was ample the amount of bodies required
to
maintain the walls and defenses was deeply insufficient. The Ministerium fell into
disarray and
dedication to their lofty goals had been eroded by a desperate attempt to maintain
what had been
built in their name.
It was the House of Whispers and Thunder who were the first to propose using
golems to
supplement the missing workforce. This proposal caused a bit of stir because
several houses of
the Ministerium felt the use of resources was selfish. It only served to protect the
Ministerium
loyalists and did not serve a greater goal. They believed those resourced could be
used to help
the kingdoms and the citizens who were still residents of the Ceriopolis. They
believed in time
the frustrations would subside and the fiery personalities of the vibrant races would
return. The
reaction of Dominus Aether was not of a humble man but of a vain, confused,

distracted man
who sought to use his power for personal gain instead of for the betterment of
others. If only I
had seen the signs of his confusion sooner. If only I had spotted many things sooner.
The coming weeks saw me working the fields to gather the crops. Many of us did
fieldwork because it needed to get done. The walls and buildings in the southern
district, the
grand bazaar and the merchant district were falling into disrepair due to lack of
maintenance and
we had but a rare few hours in the day to do anything but work. Frustrations grew
amongst many
because they felt they were not doing anything other than feeding and fixing a
monument to failed
ideals. So it was not a surprise when many younger plebians amongst the
Ministerium rejoiced
when they saw an army of golems of all varieties marching out of the Scholastic
Auraborium. I
was shocked to see such a public disrespect for a council decision and I was not
alone.
Dominus Aether's actions caused a significant conflict for many plebians because we
knew how much magic was required to sustain all of the golems. We knew the
significant
amount of resources which were used to build those golems. Those were resources
we could
have used in any number of ways to improve the lives of all, not just create
harvesting machines
and work horses. I was deeply saddened and concerned by the decisions of the
House of
Whispers and Thunder.
I remember being approached by a friend who was an instructor at the Auraborium
with a
concern which had been repeatedly ignored. She knew about the resources being
used but she
also pointed out the golems were not of traditional ritual creation. They were created
and
supplemented by additional magical power but she did not know from where. She
claimed she
repeatedly attempted to bring her concerns to the Dominus Aether, who had been
serving as the
Dean of the Auraborium since the death of the previous dean a few months prior.
She claimed
her repeated attempts to speak to him had been obstructed by the Aether Equotem.
She came
to me to see if I may be able to shed some light on her concerns. She was found
murdered in
her home three days later.
My objections and the objections of others were now at a peak due to the murder of
a
respected Auraborium instructor, but were brushed off by some as hysteria over a

new age for

the Ceriopolis. The Dominus Aether would hear nothing of our very vocal objections
and
concerns. Even when the golems began to malfunction or could not perform the
required tasks,
it was deemed a minor setback. Dominus Aether genuinely believed he was building
something
greater than himself. He had built an army to protect us from the failures of the petty
races as
he called them. I did not see it at the time, but I believe he may have gone mad.
When the
golems were not enough he began making pacts and summoning magical creatures
and
elementals to assist the golems in their tasks and bind them into service.
Deep objections from many of the remaining races sparked a fierce debate about
how
we could have gone so very wrong and where can we draw the line to ensure
acceptable means
are taken to maintain the Ceriopolis. A significant catalyst for the conflict came to a
head when
facts regarding one of our greatest magical achievements were brought to light
before the
Dominei Council. One of our greatest magical achievements was the Binding Rise. It
was an
artifact which had stood stalwart and unrelenting in the sky above our eastern gates
as a symbol
of achievement and had remained a strong and stable magical battery supporting the
proscriptions which protected the city. The Rise was millenia old and always served
us well.
Under the auspices of the Auraborium, Dominus Aether had ordered the Binding
Rise to be used
as the magical battery for his golems. It was also apparently the binding point for
elementals
which had been summoned as well.
The eldest sought a reasoned debate regarding how much magic should be used
and
how to control the forces responsibly while several members of the Ministerium
sought enough
strength to ensure the protection of the great and glorious Ceriopolis.
I still remember the day our doom came upon us. The debate raged in the halls and
the
Dominei desperately scrambled to keep their houses in line. The elders of the Elves
and Biata
had come before the gathered Dominei to announce their departure from the
Ceriopolis to the
gathered Ministerium. They had been holding an open forum for months to discuss
how far the
Ceriopolis had fallen, though the plebians of the Ministerium had been denied the
privilege of

participating in those discussions. They vehemently denounced the alterations to the

Binding
Rise. The elders found a large enough consensus amongst their populace to warrant
action.
They believed the dangers facing their people, from outside and from within, had
become too
great to simply be ignored. None present were yet aware of the series of cataclysmic
events
which were beginning to unfold.
I was not at the meeting of the Dominei because I felt I would be of better assistance
elsewhere. I was at the Binding Rise with Dominus Ignis and the Ignis Equotem
investigating
concerns his house had gleaned from one of their houses artifacts, the Fatum
Extrinium. Upon
arrival, I was struck by the utter hubris of the modifications. The dangers of changing
the Binding
Rise was palpable, but Dominus Aether and the other artificers were beyond
reasonable
discourse. The Rise was already serving a vital purpose. It was supporting the
proscription
against the greenskin hordes and keeping our fields healthy and growing quickly.
They modified
the Rise so it was siphoning energy directly from the elemental planes and used it to
bind
elementals into service, sustain the golem army, and sustain the proscriptions
protecting the
Ceriopolis from the growing hordes. The Rise reached for the sky like the claw of a
wounded
beast frantically seeking escape from the powers consuming it, and it stood as a
monument to
breathtaking vanity.
I remember I had run up the steps and onto the tower just north of the Binding Rise
to be
able to have an improved view. I was mildly out of breath from the quick sprint when
it came. I
remember standing calmly while I watched apocalypse descend upon us. I still
cannot tell you
why it happened, but I remember the whisper of a strange incantation flowing past
my ear. I had
but a moment to look down in confusion from the wall which I was observing from but
I had no
chance to act before I was overwhelmed by a cataclysmic surge of of magic.
I do not know how long I lost consciousness for. When I regained consciousness I
was
beneath the rubble of the guard tower I was standing upon when the Rise exploded.
My left arm
was broken and throbbed with every breath, but I wiggled free from beneath the
rubble and stood
awestruck by the devastation surrounding me. The district was smoking rubble.

Demolished.
The fields were flooded or flash frozen or burned, leaving nothing of sustenance to
be harvested.
The enchantments of the Binding Rise were devastated. I looked upwards for the
Binding Rise in
the sky but found nothing but clouds remained. I panicked about the fields,
wondering if they
would grow quickly or if they would grow at all. It took me a moment to realize the
more
dangerous reality. I could see the tainted fields because the the walls were gone.
The Siccus
Fortress had been sundered and the citys greatest defenses were gone.
The Rise was located a short distance from the Scholastic Auraborium and loomed
over
the east entrance as a symbol of magical achievement. I could only suggest where
the gate was
after the blast. The gate and surrounding walls were strewn in every direction. The
Auraborium
was nearly leveled, but for a few remaining towers standing battered but defiant. I
cannot begin to
fathom how many pupils and instructors were killed. Some of the portals used for
transit around
the halls and floors of Auraborium were just open in the sky, a few select portals had
pieces of
flooring partially attached. The smaller buildings left no proof they ever existed.
I walked out of the blasted rubble towards the crippled remains of the towers where
the
remaining teachers were tending to the wounded and getting the last few surviving
students to
safety. Screaming and crying echoed from everywhere and mixed with the sound of
snapping
wood and falling stones. I did my best to be of assistance, but the Auraborium was
beyond
saving and was not long to remain standing.
I felt I had done all I could to help get people out of the towers when I saw them. Just
a
few, but they were there and they had seen the broken walls. Goblins. My heart sank
as I realized
I was standing above a group of wounded children in the rubble of a city which had
defied them
for millennia with no walls to stop their charge and no proscription to prevent them
from entering.
I drew my axe and prepared to make my last stand. I was not going to let these
children die at
the hands of goblins. I saw one run from the city, I knew it would be our death but I
could do
nothing to stop him.
I was not the only one who noticed the greenskins wandering in. A young girl
stepped up

next to me. She could not have seen more than 14 or 15 summers but she was
standing next to
me with her spear in hand. The goblins obviously felt emboldened by the sight of an
adolescent
girl and a bloody, enfeebled plebian with an axe limping forward to challenge them.
She must
have been a student of the martial forms because she was more skilled with a spear
than I was
with an axe. I am still unsure how I survived the encounter, but I know I would be
dead without
her. I mustered as much haste as I could to get back and assist with the wounded
and the
children. I had to get them out of the remains of the Scholastic district as fast as
physically
possible. I also knew the walls into the Ancient district were entirely broken as well.
Both the
Ancient and the Vibrant districts were defenseless and at least one goblin knew it.
I finally looked down and realized my arm was shattered and would probably be
useless
until I was able to be healed by the House of Pain and Purity. I had several other
sprains and
small broken bones but they were so minor compared to my arm I barely noticed. I
knew I
needed to help getting the residents out of the districts, so healing would have to
wait. I made my
way to the House of Fate and Fury to see if they had garnered any additional
information from the
Fatum Extrinium.
I knew something was wrong before I entered the building. The door was ajar and
shouting could be heard on the street. I pushed my way through the open door and it
looked as if
the building had been sacked. Tapestries were torn from the falls and the furniture
was askew. I
moved slowly towards the back of the hall. I recognized some of the men and
women as
plebians of the house but they did not seem to be bearing any of the signets of their
house. I was
so delirious with pain and fear I only saw them. Their somber faces looked gaunt and
defeated
and I could only think it was for their fellow plebians lost in the explosion. Finally, one
of them
moved and I saw it. The Fatum Extrinium had been destroyed. It was left as nothing
more than a
broken heap of wood and wool. An unceremonious end to something which
protected the
Ceriopolis for millennia.
I leaned against the wall and slowly sank to my knees, too shocked to move or think.
The
Binding Rise, The Siccus Fortress, The Fatus Extrinium... all gone in a matter of

hours. I sat in
that hallway for longer than I would like to admit, aching and bleeding. The pain of
my arm had
finally caught up and I was not sure I could go on. At least I was not alone. The other
plebians of
the House of Fate and Fury made for good spirits to share this commiseration. I
could hear the
scuffle and clank of boots and armor moving on the streets, but I could not rise. If I
had not been
followed to the House of Fate and Fury I believe I may have just sat there and died.
I was jolted from my despondence by a wracking pain in my arm. The kind of pain
which
makes the world go out of focus. As I shook off the haze and the world refocused I
was
surprised to find the young lady from earlier in the day standing above me. She
looked less than
amused by my beleaguered demeanor. She looked down at me on the floor and said
Get up,
the Ancients are abandoning the city, the remaining golems are destroying
everything in their
path and elementals are running rampant through the fields. This is no time for a
catnap. You
can finish being useless later. I do not remember if I was shocked, offended or
insulted but I did
start laughing at my own absurdity. I can still remember the pain which came with
every chuckle.
She seemed amused herself. I asked her if she really needed to hit my swollen, very
obviously
broken arm. She said hitting me in the face did not appear to be working. I was in
tremendous
amounts of pain and the world I loved was crashing down around me but this
irreverent youth
managed to pick me up off the ground, somewhat literally, and get me moving again.
She helped
me hobble through the chaos of the muggy autumn night to the House of Pain and
Purity. My
arrival elicited gasps of concern from the healers of the house, of which only 3 were
still inside.
Everyone else was apparently scavenging the districts for survivors and desperately
trying to
shore up the broken walls while dealing with the rampaging golems. Apparently
nobody had even
bothered trying to deal with the elementals. They were of so little concern compared
to the
existing threats inside the city. The healers saw how badly I was injured and moved
me into their
healing chamber immediately. I had forgotten how painful it was. I could feel the
healing magics
stretching and resetting my broken bones, purging the growing infection and burning

away flesh
too damaged to heal. It was excruciating. Apparently I passed out after about an
hour.
I awoke feeling sluggish and stiff, but had use of my arm again. The sun had risen
and it
was a beautiful morning. The girl was there again. Apparently she was not going
away. Once I
was awake she rose and brought my armor and weapons. She brought me up to
speed on the
events of the night. The Elves and Biata have gathered their might and marched
north back to
the Verdant Eyrie, the Stone Elves are en route to the Odecrag and the Dark Elves
are marching
for the Black Peaks. The houses were scrambling to reinforce the city walls and
locate where
the remaining rampaging golems were. Dominus Ignis was dead and the laurels
were nowhere
to be found. I had never heard of a time when a member of the plebians had failed to
rise to the
post of Dominus, but the chaos of the day had overwhelmed our senses and left us
unable to
ponder on why. One of the plebians of the house, an instructor at the Scholastic
Auraborium if I
remember correctly, declared himself Ignis Equotem and claimed leadership in the
absence of a
Dominus. If only I had known then how dark his thoughts and spirit were. He was
apparently blind
with rage over the departure of the ancient races. He felt they were abandoning the
Ministerium
to die.
Then I heard it. It was faint at first but I remember how it sounded. The thump,
thump,
thump of the drums. I rushed to the wall and saw it with my own eyes. The gathered
forces of a
new savage legion were skulking in the husk and rubble of the scholastic district. All
of the
internal bickering amongst the houses had left the legions unchecked. I even
recognized the
goblin who fled. I drew my bow, knocked an arrow and ended him. He had caused
enough
trouble.
The day was spent with everyone of able body being equipped for war. Not the kind
of
skirmishes which fairy tales glorify but real, gritty, ugly, to the last dying breath war.
The kind of
war which shakes you to your core and makes you question what it means to be
alive. The kind
of war these Dominei had never experienced and were woefully unprepared for.
I saw the lights of the governing district and the halls of governance were lit, I

assumed
for a moot. I rushed over to try to assist and organize the Ministerium in a desperate
defense. I
arrived to find the galleries empty but for a few plebians and the Dominei squabbling
like children.
The ambassadors were gone and their galleries were vacant. The Pax Quorem was
seated on
the pedestal it rested on leering down upon the hall, looking even more evil and
deviant than last I
noticed. They could not even agree on who would call to the spirits. That room had
become so
oppressively frustrating even I found it difficult to remain patient and discerning.
Eventually I just
left and tried to organize people as best as I was able.
I went over to the eastern walls to see what the greenskins were doing when I was
nearly
struck by something which came hurtling from beyond the walls. I was deeply
engrossed in my
thoughts and frustrations with the Ministerium when I heard someone yell. I looked
up from my
reverie and was immediately startled into avoiding whatever was flying towards me. I
narrowly
avoided the incoming projectile, but I lost my footing and tumbled off the wall. I
landed roughly
near the item in a tangled heap. The stench of fetid, rotting flesh first drew my
attention. The
trolls were apparently taking the bodies of those killed in the explosion and throwing
their
decaying corpses at our sentries on the walls. The smell was rancid and cloying. It
was the
smell of death and war. It was a smell I had hoped to never suffer again. I sent a
runner to bring
word of the bodies to the House of Temperance and Ruin, so they may be properly
gathered and
interred.
As the sun set that evening, the fear started to set in. We did not have many children
or
elderly left in the city, which was a blessing I cannot overstate. The intensity of the
last few days
was taking its toll and everyone was starting to tire. The sentries walked the walls all
night,
dodging flying rocks, wooden beams and the bodies of their fallen comrades. It was
terrible. The
night was colder than usual, but that might have been from the missing Binding Rise
or the
rampaging elementals or just the bone chilling fear.
As first light came and dawn brought light to the Ceriopolis, the situation had gone
from
bad to dire. The greenskins now surrounded the walls of the city and easily

numbered in the
thousands. The unceasing volley of debris and bodies continued through the night
and sleep was
scarce for all in the city. I made my way up to the wall to relieve a few sentries from
their all night
posts when I spotted a mob moving from the governing hall towards the main gate.
The head of the column consisted of Dominus Ordo in his full plate being flanked by
his
equotem in full regalia. The plebians of the House of Light and Lies marched in full
form and
appeared to have plebians from several other houses amongst them. I can only
assume my
confusion was noteworthy because the girl volunteered a comment on her confusion
as well.
They appeared to be marching forward in battle formation and banners. I was so
shocked by the
insanity, I was unable to fathom what was about to occur.
Dominus Ordo gathered his troops, gave a valiant speech to rally the forces of the
House
of Light and Lies and signaled to open the gate. It was that moment which snapped
us from our
stupor. We sprinted across the wall, desperately attempting to get to the gatehouse
before this
insanity went any further. The sentries on the walls were too absorbed in the chaos
to see us
coming or move out of the way. I knocked a few of them to the ground and maybe
even from the
wall but I am not able to be sure. I charged into the gatehouse moments too late and
I looked
down upon the charging Dominus Ordo and his fearless retinue. They carved
through the
unsuspecting and poorly organized greenskins cleanly and were cutting them down
with
precision.
I, for a moment, was almost hopeful of a route. The House of Light and Lies was
appearing unstoppable in the face of overwhelming numbers. Then I heard it again.
The strange
incantation on the wind. I spun to see what was happening and the Dominus Aether
and his
equotem were shutting the gate. I lept to try and stop them but they had put up some
kind of
strange proscription from the inner gate room. They were locking the House of Light
and Lies
outside the walls. I pounded my fist against the protection and screamed at them in
desperation,
begging them to open the gate before they allowed their fellow brothers and sisters
to die. The
Dominus Aether looked at me calmly and said I will not allow the Ceriopolis to fall
because of

one mans hubris.The gate stays shut.

I looked down into the column of plebians and the despair was already taking grasp.
The
left flank gave first, slowly retreating as the greenskins filled in. They were still killing
10 to 1 but it
did not matter. They slowly withdrew to the gate and Dominus Ordo continued to
signal for the
gate to be opened. I stood in that guard tower and watched my friends die,
overwhelmed by a
horde of creatures barely capable of reason.
Dominus Ordo was pressed down to the last of his men. The goblins had broken and
fled
the field and the few trolls were slain. The monstrous ogres and their necromantic
shaman had
rallied and were pressing against them with an unrelenting fervor. The chieftain of
the Ogres, one
who was said to wear the bone of his victims around his neck like a wreath and drink
the blood of
children for power, cleaved his way through the line and pressed Dominus Ordo until
his back
was against the the wall. I will never know what was said when axe locked with
hammer, but
Dominus Ordos hand shot out like lightning and grasped the neck of the Chieftain
and the agony
on his face was visible for anyone close enough to see.
I was too far away and the clamour of war drowned out what was said but in that
moment
I saw a brilliant prismatic light engulf the chieftain. I was nearly blinded but his
screams and wails
could be heard over the din. As the light spread out from the chieftain, so did the
scream of the
other ogres. It hung there for what seemed like eternity before the magic came
rushing back to
the chieftain and then the force of light sent everyone close to the blast flying in all
directions.
Sentries were thrown from the walls, ogres skid across the battlefield like rag dolls
and Dominus
Ordo hit the stone next to the gate so hard his armor crumpled like foil around him.
He sat
propped against the wall with his hand raised signalling for the gate to be opened,
blood visibly
seeping out of the crumpled steel that used be his armor. He died of his wounds
before we could
get healers over the wall.
He was a great man who suffered terribly at the hands of men he thought to be his
friends and allies. He did not deserve to bleed to death in his armor, leaning against
the gate of
the city he gave his life to protect.
The shock of what had just transpired took a few minutes to settle in. At first the tone

inside the city was one of sadness and anguish for the loss of an entire house.
Brothers, sisters,
friends, wives, children, all were counted amongst the numbers of those lost outside
the wall.
We waited for 2 days but no one inherited the laurel, no one grasped the banner.The
house had
died.
Before people could move to asking questions about why the gate was not opened
the
drums of war came pounding from the darkness. The Savage Legions were again at
our gates
and they came with some of the most twisted goblins I have ever seen. They
appeared to be
sickly, mottled brown with large pus filled sores and blisters. It was hard to see
clearly or
determine exactly what they were doing, but they appeared to be defiling the dead. It
was not
long before the bodies of our friends came hurdling over the walls. The House of
Temperance
and Ruin quickly gathered the bodies of the dead, so they could be interred.
This time they had been animated prior to being delivered. Their twisted, rotting,
bloated bodies
rose and assaulted the closest to them and they were being delivered around the
entire city. The
assault of the dead did not take particularly long, only a couple hundred people had
gone out with
Dominus Ordo. The Savage Legion took up their siege and waited. I was surprised
at this kind of
tactic from such a primal and unenlightened pack of savages, but I would quickly find
out why
they were waiting.
The coughing came first followed quickly by fever and chills. Boils were only a few
hours
behind. The sickness came upon all those who dealt with the bodies. The Savage
Legion had
delivered a plague with the unceremonious return of our dead brethren. The House
of
Temperance and Ruin was almost entirely infected as well as several other plebians
who were
assaulted by the infected corpses. The later stages of the plague came quickly for
some and it
involved vomiting blood, bleeding innards and a gruesome death. Now that it was
light out we
could see the bodies of the dead secreted a thin greenish film which got into
anything it touched.
The remaining plebians of the Ministerium, myself included, invoked a quarantine for
all
infected with the plague. We forced them into the merchant district and locked the
gates. The

house of Pain and Purity was already working on a cure for the plague but was
struggling
because the quarantine left them unable to test if the cure worked. Dominus Vitae
thought it
might take about a day to find a treatment, which was too late for many plebians who
succumb
in a matter of hours.
I was busy assisting the house in attempting to find a cure for the plague in the
House of
Pain and Purity when I heard the gates of the city open. I dropped the vial I was
working without a
second thought and sprinted out of the house and across the district, axe in hand. I
was terrified
the Savage Legion had scaled the wall and opened the gate. I was wrong. The self
proclaimed
Ignis Equotem was flying a flag of truce and sought to parlay with the enemy.
I stopped for a moment to contemplate the idiocy of his actions, but before I even
realized
it my legs were moving with purpose. I had stormed into the halls of governance like
maniac. I
kicked the door of the inner chamber so hard it flew from the hinges. It bounced off of
a pedestal
and slammed into the Pax Quorum, knocking it from its pedestal and severely
cracking it.
Dominus Chaus rose and turned to meet my gaze, enraged by the destruction of his
house
artifact, but withered under my gaze. The Dominei understood my rage and were as
displeased
with the idea as I. They said the idea of parlay with the beasts at the gates was
cowardly but the
Ignis Equotem had made a valid point. They said If we suffer through a parlay it
might give the
House of Base and Reason time to repair the Siccus Fortress. It may be our only
chance. I was
stunned. I was enraged. I could not believe these fallen men were throwing out their
convictions
at a chance to save themselves.
I marched back to the wall, unable to speak, and looked out at the infection claiming
the
seat of Ignis Equotem negotiating with these abominable monsters. Our brothers and
sisters
were dying of a plague which they had vaulted into our home on the skin of our loved
ones and
he is broaching the idea of peace. It is a rare moment in my life I must admit I felt
hatred for a
member of the great races.
I patiently waited on top of the gate for him to return from negotiation with the faces
of evil.
I remember he rose from the table and pointed north before he returned back to the

gate. As he
left the table the Savage Legion began to swarm together and the horns of war
sounded around
the city. They began to march in the northern direction which the fool had pointed.
Then I realized
the direction he pointed. He had pointed out the path which the ancients were taking
to reach the
Verdant Eyrie. I was so coldly furious at the unconscionable actions of that
despicable waste of
flesh I gripped my axe hilt so hard I cracked it.
I descended upon him as soon as he entered the gate. My offense must have been
quite
visible considering how quickly the mood changed. I do not think the younger
plebians
understood the betrayal which had just occurred on our doorstep. The so called Ignis
Equotem
looked to me calmly and stated They abandoned us. They left us to die while they
run for their
lives. They owe us everything and this is the deference they show us? They deserve
to be
hunted while we survive. The most offensive part of the statement... he meant every
word of it.
His rage at their departure had consuming his judgement and blinded him from
reason. He
sentenced hundreds, possibly thousands of ancients to death because of his
wounded vanity.
The effort required to keep my hands from committing murder took every ounce of
my
self restraint I could muster. He walked back towards the halls of governance as if
nothing was
wrong. Some even seemed to applaud his success. I chose not to follow. Shortly
after came the
ringing of the bells, signalling a tribunal had been called.
I did not make an effort to hurry because I knew the halls of governance would be a
solemn place. I entered through the back doors of the hall and I could see the broken
frame and
the noteworthy absence of the Pax Quorum. The room almost felt hollow without it.
The hall was
unexpectedly quiet when I slipped in. The gallery of the House of Fate and Fury was
packed and
most others had a reasonable audience with some very stark exceptions. The gallery
for House
of Light and Lies remained covered in black sheets to signify their passing and the
gallery of the
House of Temperance and Ruin remained vacant while they continued to remain
quarantined
from the rest of the city due to the wracking plague. I stepped over to see the
prosecution of the
Ignis Equotem and I noticed a very select few plebians of his house standing with

him before the

verbal onslaught of the tribunal.
I was surprised at how civil everything remained during the discourse, considering
how
badly events had gone during recent heated debates. The charges were leveled by a
nearly
unified tribunal. Treason, cowardice and murder. The argument for justice was
simple. The
actions of the acting Ignis Equotem had betrayed everything they stood for by
sending the
Savage Legions after defenseless men, women and children. The defense could be
labeled
absurd if it was so deeply craven. The false equotem argued the fleeing ancients
deserved to be
hunted. They abandon us and deserved to die in the wild. He actually argued his
house was of
sound virtue and deserved to live. When called upon to stand in support of their false
equotem,
most of the gallery threw down their favors. A select few had been swayed in support
of the
radical suggestion that those who fled a dying city which indulged in vanity and
hubris deserved
to die. The tribunal did not take long to deliberate and voted unanimously to hold
these cowards
accountable for the innocent lives they sacrificed and the cowardice they had shown.
Some
attempted to put up a fight but were easily overwhelmed. I watched each man be
judged guilty of
their crimes. The Dominei who passed judgement took the time to look each and
every coward
in the eyes, explained their cowardice and betrayal to them calmly and without
sentiment. Even
in the face of men who abandon their principles and begged for mercy, they
remained resolute
and pushed them from the wall where they were hung by the neck until they
perished.
I have watched good men, sound men become depraved in the face of desperate
circumstances. I have watched good men take desperate steps in a misguided
dedication to a
greater cause. This was one of my saddest moments for I was watching fallen men,
men
stricken by pride and entitlement, unable to grasp the gravity of hubris. Men and
women so lost
to their self aggrandized sense of station they would willing send people to their
deaths for
defying them. I am ashamed of these men, but at least I am not alone in seeing their
failings. At
least these men were brought to justice.
The next few days were filled with an unexpected calm in the face of the dismal

choices
remaining to those still loyal to the Ceriopolis. Communication between houses
stopped. The
House of Temperance of Ruin was wasting away under the effects of the plague, The
House of
Base and Reason was desperately trying to repair the Siccus Fortress, The House of
Tsunami
and Dream was preparing to make evacuate. They had a plan to create a safe
passage through
the lake. The House of Whispers and Thunder was desperately trying piece together
a
proscription. The desperate unceasing hope of saving the city was the last bit of
straw left to
grasp for.
The Halls of Governance had been all but abandoned due to a lack of necessity. The
amount of plebians left in the Ceriopolis was not enough to justify gathering
everybody. We had a
few hundred left in a city which used to be home to thousands beyond counting. I sat
on the roof
and watched the scrambling of men and women. I noticed two events occurring
independently,
but at the same time. I saw the House of Tsunami and Dream moving a makeshift
aquatic
manipulator, or some such pretentious name, to the waterline. They had carved out
the boats to
shuttle across the lake and well outside the danger the Savage Legion presented.
Well, boat
might be a strong word. Canoe or maybe raft. They did not inspire confidence in a
successful
departure.
The second set of events were of greater concerned. I noticed the House of Pain
and Purify was
wearing strange masks and gloves. The masks seemed to have tubes running from
the nose
and mouth down across the chin, around the back of the neck and up over their
head. The tubes
seemed to meet above the head at a glowing white pearlescent sphere which pulsed
with magic.
I remember feeling clean just looking at it. The gloves had similar pulsing spheres on
the back of
each hand. They were shepherding the plague ridden members of the house
Temperance and
Ruin through the city to their chapterhouse, but I was also watching people go in the
chapterhouse near death and come out healed. The Masks and Gloves must have
allowed them
to move the plague victims without contracting it.
The events were going on simultaneously and each came with its own set of
circumstances. The House of Peace and Malice was both obstructing and assisting
the

departure preparations at the dock. They were never more scattered than they were
that day. On
the other side of the wall the near dead were being smuggled to safety and salvation.
It almost
felt like a good day. Almost. I had returned to observing the aquatic preparations
when I heard the
screaming start.
Plague! Plague! They have broken the quarantine! Plague! Run! PlagueI had not
looked
away for more than a minute and all of a sudden the House of Whispers and
Thunder was
scouring the streets. The doors of the quarantine were thrown open and those still
strong
enough to walk were rushed into the House of Pain and Purity. I could see the
remaining bodies
laying on the ground near the door. Their hands outstretched, grasping at a chance
for life, softly
begging for a chance to live.
The panic of spreading plague had overtaken the House of Whispers and Thunder.
When
they found the door open and the remaining victims near death they were devoid of
concern for
their plight. I saw them kill them, leave the weapons used to commit the crime and
then close
and bar the door. The remainder of the House was gathering in a mob and marching
towards the
House of Pain and Purity. I descended from my perch to attempt to talk some sense
into the
madness gripping all involved.
I arrived too late. I round the corner to see the Dominus Mortem pleading for time to
show
them they had been cured, shouting how the sickness was curable and they should
be praising
the Dominus Vitae for his work. Then I watched the Aether Equotem stab him in the
throat with a
dagger. Blood sprayed everywhere and the remaining plebians of all houses present
stopped
silent for a single moment, overwhelmed by the murder of the Dominus Mortem, then
flee in
panicked terror in all directions. It was as if someone yelled fire in a crowded hall.
Dominus
Aether and his equotem forced their way to the door of the House of Pain and Purity
and forced
the door closed. I heard a strange and foul incant riding the wind again, but this time
it was close.
It was as if it was the same as the day near the binding rise but at the same time
completely
different and I could taste the rotten stagnant air and smell the stench of a thousand
windless

nights as the windows of the house filled with an engulfing blackness. I could hear
muffled cries
of fear and see hands stretching the coal black ichor on the windows, smothering
them like fitted
gloves sewn from the midnight sky.
I smelled it before I heard it. Flesh has a very distinct scent. The screams came next
and
they were the harbinger of true depravity. I could hear them attempting to quench the
flames. It
did not take long before the building was engulfed. At first it was wailing which hung
in the air, the
screams of men and women being burned alive. In the end it was the roaring crackle
of bonfire
flames which howled into the night, consuming one of the greatest acts of selfless
heroism of
this generation. The House of Pain and Purity risked exposing themselves to certain
death to
cure their fellow man and were then locked inside their home and died screaming for
mercy. The
mercy they showed their fellow man and was subsequently denied to them.
Sometimes I feel
nothing but pity and shame for the great races.
I had but a few moments to lament the travesty which was transpiring before a
panicked
plebian came frantically sprinting up. He could barely speak from being out of breath
and was
attempting to gesture towards the docks. It took the poor youth a few moments to
compose and
communicate the House of Tsunami and Dream was under attack. The Savage
Legion had
returned during the chaos created during the burning of the House of Pain and Purity
and were
attempting to scale the walls of the Grand Bazaar.
We immediately left the burning ruins behind and made for the docks. We arrived to
many members having boarded their makeshift vessels and paddling for safety. It
was the first
time I saw it up close. The water was rippling and churning from the falling arrows
and debri
being fired and thrown by the Savage Legions. The water wretched and ebbed with
each falling
stone or sometimes falling body. It was not until you reached the end of the piers,
then it
appeared to be a perfect circle pressed down in the bay. It was not impressive in the
size,
maybe 10 feet across, but the rafts which were not capsized by the descending
storm of rocky
death would lean over the edge before tumbling out of view.
I moved to get closer to the portal and was immediately met with drawn wands. The
Aqua

Equotem and a few other member of the house appeared to have stored into their
war golems
and were standing at attention near the waterline. The enchanted obelisk behind
them appeared
to be ebbing, flowing and sparking with magical power. It was by no means a
seamless
enchantment and had to be maintained by a pair of formalists to ensure it did not
collapse.
The Dominus Aqua appeared to be wearing a strange torque, greaves and braces. I
was
not able to get close, but they appeared to be hammered copper with inset turquoise
which
moved like waves. Each point on the torque seemed to have strands of water
running back to
the obelisk while the bracers and greaves shimmered like shifting waves. Her
gestures seem to
be affecting the water and causing the water to act like extensions of her will. Waves
crashed
down on any who attempted to enter the surf and surging geysers were vaulting
upward and into
the path of oncoming attacks. It was an enchantment unlike anything I had seen
before. I guess I
should not be surprised by the achievements of a house defined by their dedication
to achieving
the greatest of dreams.
I snapped from my entrancement when I heard the shouting begin. The House of
Whispers and Thunder was approaching the waterline where the makeshift vessels
to depart
were located. They were met with a very pointed volley of elements from the Aqua
Equotem.
They were decisively informed they would not be boarding nor allowed departure
with the other
refugees. The frank discussion turned quickly to a standoff. I tried to calm everyone
and find out
why they were being denied exit, but I was fairly certain I already knew.
It did not take long before my theory was proven accurate. The Equotem allowed
members of the other remaining houses to board. Many members of the House of
Peace and
Malice had already left with the first groups, but the House of Whispers and Thunder
were
markedly denied. The Equotem was steadfast in his purpose, unflinching under the
continuing
assault of arrows and stones from over the walls. The first plebian who tried to pass
without their
consent was cut down without mercy. When pressed for a reason for their being
denied, the
Equotem simply pointed to the smoke rising from Ministerium District.
I cannot say why I was surprised when blades were drawn. The Aqua Equotem was
the

first to fire, but his force was met with equal fervor. The shouting voices and clashing
blades
made the altercation chaotic but I heard battle cries from both sides. Cowards
Traitors
Murderers Apostate Defilers and more. I could not have possibly heard them all.
The golems
made short work of many of the attackers and the plebians of both houses were
pouring into the
fight. I watched in horror as brother cut down brother and our greatest of enlightened
societies
devolved into civil war.
The fighting continued with bloodshed on all sides. The Aqua Equotem continued to
hold
the line and almost all of the House of Tsunami and Dream was through the
watergate when the
Dominus Aqua started taking notice of the conflict. She was trying desperately to
block as many
projectiles as she could, but it was just too much for any one person. The battlefield
was
drenched in torrential shifting waters mixed with arrows, blood and debri.
The House of Base and Reason was visibly losing ground as the Savage Legions
gained
footholds on the walls. They sounded the horns and called for aid, but nothing came.
Their only
aid was busy fighting amongst themselves. I saw the Dominus Aether retreating back
to the
gates of Ministerium District with his Equotem and a few plebians in tow. I darted
through the
combat to ensure he would not be able to lock the gate again. I managed to get
through the gate
and rush to the gate tower.
I looked around the gate room but the Dominus Aether was nowhere to be found. I
only
saw his Aether Equotem leering down at the conflict below. His demeanor was
different from
before. His name was Wallace of Redbank once, but I did not recognize the man that
stood
before me. I am not even sure what stood before me was still a man. He must have
noticed he
was being watched because his head swiveled. Not turned, turned would be normal
or healthy,
no this was more like something was swiveling the head of a doll. I swear I can still
hear the
grinding of bone and his eyes. His weird, vacant eyes peering at me but having no
emotion to
show. Then I saw it. He waved his hands and everything went silent for a moment,
as if reality
was had slipped its chain and then came the wind. It was like an unwanted touch
caressing my

ear. I shuddered and nearly wretched. Then it came again. The incantation laying
foreign on my
ears. I struggled to focus in this dysphoric moment but I saw his neck grind back into
place.
I looked over the battlefield as my reality came back into focus. I could almost watch
the
wave hit the aquatic manipulator. The two formalists were instantly liquified as the
enchantments
seized and erupted. It sprayed magic and water in all directions. The water swelled
in all
directions and the Dominus Aqua did everything she could to control it, but it was too
much. I
watch her earnestly attempting to signal to the brawling masses to run, desperate to
save as
many lives as she could. I saw the swell begin and I watched her shift it from going
away to
coming in. The incoming tidal wave was enormous.
It was largely too late for most of the plebians. Just before the wave hit, the Dominus
Aqua turned to greet the wave. She saved many of those fleeing a terrible fate by
sea, but had
sacrificed everything to do it. She met her death with honor, arms outstretched like
she was
embracing an old friend. Her greatness should never be forgotten. Her dream was a
dream of
safety for her house and she gave herself without reservation to achieve it. Not just
gave but
actively placed herself in the way of harm to save others.
The wave crashed down and nothing outside the gate was safe. Any who were not
behind or on top of the walls were swept out to sea. Piers were flipped like toys and
smashed
against the walls of the Ceriopolis. Buildings of all types were washing out into the
bay. Stone,
Wood, Straw, it did not matter. All that was left was desolate rubble churned together
with the
bodies of diligent plebians and their dreams of safety.
I also saw the wave hit outside the wall. I lacked a view from where I stood but the
receding tide brought with it a tumultuous mass of floundering greenskins. They were
obviously
not prepared for the coming wave and did not have walls to hide behind. I walked
over to the wall
overlooking the siege. It was nothing but wooden debri sprawled across the mudflat
for what
seemed like miles. Pools of water formed in divots and were choked with the dead
greenskins
who did not float out with the tide. A few of the more significant enemies were digging
their way
out. Trolls mostly and some lucky orcs. Nothing to be worried about.
I took a moment to evaluate what was left of this city I had watched grow and was
watching die. The Dominus Ordo was crushed in his armor and bled to death leaning

against the
city gates. The Dominus Ignis was killed in the explosion of the Binding Rise and his
failed
replacement was an apostate who sacrificed the ancient beings of this city for a
chance to save
his own life. The Dominus Vitae and Dominus Mortus were burned alive, an unjust
reward for
fighting the plague. Dominus Aqua died diverting water away from refugees and
Dominus Chaus
had not been seen since the flood. Dominus Lapis had the last members of his
house rallied
behind the closed gates. I had no idea where Dominus Aether or the thing posing as
his equotem
had scurried off to.
I was terrified to think of what that thing could do. It was an evil I could not articulate
with
words, but I could not sit idly by and let it continue to malign that which I held in the
highest
esteem. I bounded down the steps of the wall and found Dominus Lapis organizing
his plebians.
He had no idea of the travesties of the day. He had seen the smoke, but knew
nothing of why
there was fire. His call for aid and assistance from his fellow Ministerium houses
went
unanswered, but was unaware of the bloody conflict incited on the ground beneath
him. He had
seen the tidal wave come and wash away his enemies, but had no idea why it came
our way or
how. He was a good man. A powerful, kind, generous, brave, gregarious man who
laughed too
loud and stood by his convictions even more than the normal dwarf. When I told him
of the man
which had caused the death and destruction of our home, he calmly picked up his
axe and
pointedly asked me where to find him.
I realized then I did not know. He could have been at the House of Whispers and
Thunder, or the Halls of Governance, or possibly already be out the gate and out of
the city. I was
deliberating when Dominus Lapis decided we were splitting into two groups and
scouring the
city. I went with his group and he sent his equotem with the other half of the plebians.
The orders
were simple, find the Aether Equotem known as Wallace of Redbank and slay him.
We immediately set about scouring the city and we spent most of the day and deep
into
the night desperately searching. We turned any building which was still standing
inside out. The
streets at this point were littered with rubble and trash. We stumbled upon a few
wounded

plebians during our search of the city, but no sign of the Dominus Aether or his
equotem could
be found. It was deep in the night when I heard the drums of coming greenskins. I
thought for
sure we would die. I stopped our search to listen, just to make sure. Dominus Lapis
looked up
with his toothy smile and said Being worried about them is pointless. They have to
get over the
wall. Let us kill this traitor before the greenskins get in. We are not getting out of this
alive, that
we know. Let us make sure those who deserve death for their crimes meet it at our
hands.
Then he slapped me on the back with a big hammy hand, hefted his axe over a
shoulder and his
plebians got back to work. I was and always will be impressed by their unrelenting
dedication to
their convictions.
We finally slept when the sun was well into the sky. A few of the remaining plebians
found
a usable golem and ordered it onto the wall to assist them at sentry posts. We had
scoured the
Merchant District, the Ministerium District, the remains of the Vibrant District and the
ruins of the
Ancient District. We found no trace of anything Whispers and Thunder. We got
maybe two hours
of sleep.
The sentry came bolting into the wreckage we were staying in saying a strange
looking
man they did not recognize was in the Halls of Governance. We gathered our things
quickly and
made our way through the ruins of the city. It was when I was approaching the Halls
on that day I
realized how old and burdened the building looked. The wood was worn and seemed
to be
bowing. The stone appeared to be chipped and battered through years of wear. It
was almost like
the building had aged a century in a day. I might have waxed poetic about it on a
different day.
We entered calmly and with precision. We entered behind him, silent as death, and
we
took our places around him. Swords drawn, arrows knocked and shields ready as we
approached. I can still remember him calmly clearing his throat I expected you to be
here
sooner. Can you explain to me why the Ceriopolis is in shambles? His tone did not
betray
compassion or contempt of our situation. I looked to the other plebians but only
Dominus Lapis
seemed to have any clue to who this man may be.
I remember my great grandfather used to tell us stories passed down from his great

grandfather of the man who watched the moots. He told stories of a man who was
quietly trusted
and inspired compassion amongst all the great races. It was said he watched quietly
while men
sought power from the Animus, made great compromises and forged alliances for
the future. He
used to speak with such passion about the great discussions of chivalry and nobility,
enamored
by the wisdom of the great spirits which dained to attend. He said this man was the
first to
abandon the moots, but he never knew why. So tell me stranger, can you tell me why
we were
abandoned? I saw the subtle adjustment of the Dominus axe. He was prepared to
end this
strange man.
The stranger simply shrugged his shoulders. I could see he was holding something,
but I
could not get a good enough view to see what it was. You were not abandoned
Dominus, you
were no longer in need of aid. The powers of the Animus were always meant to
protect the great
races and their gifts led to an age of unprecedented peace and prosperity. The
Ceriopolis was
safe and growing. Those who built it had grown old and their grandchildrens great
grandchildren
were far beyond the summers of their youth. Those of the Anima who held some
interests
stayed and those of us with greater obligations were needed elsewhere. Abandon is
a strong
word, but so is presume.
I looked back to Dominus Lapis. He was obviously displeased with the answer he
had
received, or specifically did not receive. You never came. We fought and died alone
in this
vacant wilderness and you never came. How can you just let everything in this place
of
enlightenment get consumed by the savages?The stranger finally turned and looked
up, he
appeared to be holding a stone tablet. Again, you presume my intentions Dominus. I
have no
authority to save this place. It is not mine to save, it is merely here in the same
moment I am.
You came to this place in the wilderness out of desperation and then became glutted
on your
own achievements. You stopped looking at how to make the world greater. You
forgot there is a
world beyond these walls. You forgot you are not inherently great, but must strive for
greatness. I
did not come here to quarrel with you. You have done and will continue to do much

to make your
family proud.
He handed him the tablet. I tried to get a view of what is said but the glare from the
marble and the speed of the images made it impossible for me to understand what it
meant.
Dominus Lapis looked up from the tablet not long after receiving it. It was the first
time I saw him
appear to be truly emotional. I could not tell if it was fear, or pride, or both, but
Dominus Lapis
finally smiled his toothy grin. He signalled for everyone to gather up and form ranks.
I know
where they are. Let us see to justice.
I moved to join ranks when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and reached for my
axe.
I thought for sure I was about to die. I was mid slash when I realized he had brushed
aside my
strike with little effort. I remember being confused. He was all the way across the
room. Even the
most lithe and agile of rogues could not have crossed that space in moments without
drawing
attention. He seemed sublimely calm for someone who had just been the target of
potentially
deadly strike.
You are needed here. You have to watch like I have watched. You are required
elsewhere as I am required elsewhere. You must see what comes next. You must
understand
what comes next. I did not fully understand at first. Dominus Lapis had gathered his
plebians
and was ready to march. I remember he shouted over to me Remember us and
remember this
place. Do not let the world forget what was achieved here, what was built here.
I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to see justice done but I understood I had a
greater
goal. I had not lived this long without a purpose. I walked with this strange man to
heart of the
Ministerium district and climbed up on top of the center house. It felt strangely. The
center house
stands where the mud hut was originally located. We came here in desperation and
it lead to the
birth of the Ceriopolis. I remember having a feeling this is where we had come for it
all to end. It
was just tall enough to see over the wall into the governing district. Normally the view
would have
been blocked by the House of Pain and Purity, but it was burnt to cinders and no
longer stood as
an obstruction. I saw Dominus Lapis enter the small building followed by his
plebians. When the
strange man spoke it was distant, almost haunted.
Do not look away. Whatever is about to happen is awful and will chill your spirit until

the
end of days but you cannot look away. You are about to peer into what could have
been the
death of all. You must remember this moment and the sacrifices of the Ceriopolis.
This is why
you live, this is why you watch, this is what you are meant to stop. I waited in the
deafening
silence of the muggy summer twilight for something to happen. I was not sure what
this odd man
had tasked me with. I was meant to see what? The execution of a traitor? I had
already watched
the would be Ignis Equotem and his house hanged for their crimes. I was straining
so hard to
see everything my eyes were sore and dry.
Then I saw a something small come out of the building, but it was something too
small to
be a man. It seemed to be wrapping around the building. Then another. This one
was larger and
it seemed to be stretching outward. Then all at once they were pouring out from
within the
building. They were coal black tentacles appearing like the shadows of your
nightmares given
form, wrapping the building in their foul embrace. They continued to thrash and
grasp upward
until they collided and contorted into what looked like an eye cobbled from the rotting
fleshed of
the dead etched in the runes of madmen. The flesh of the eye seemed to ebb and
curl as it
turned to gaze upon the ruins of our city. The eye seemed to scour the city, hunting
for
something. The tentacles writhed through the streets, tangled strands of cold black
madness
and despair. The eye was the most horrifying of all. It surged across the splintered
rooftop, as
the tentacles withered the wood and shredded the buildings below. As the stark black
tendrils
consumed the last vitality from all they defiled with their touch, the eye became more
erratic. It
finally came to a pause. The flesh began to churn and rot. Then came the fateful
hymn; the
incantation which came as the harbinger of our final destruction. It came upon the
wind, fighting
for my attention through the stench of rotting flesh and unworldly terror. I began to
turn away from
the abomination before me but the strange man had me in his grasp. He was too
strong and I
could not break free. I could not escape what was coming.
It was almost as if the building was gasping for its final breath. The stench which
defiled

my nose and the screech which punctured my ears seemed to be drawn away from
me, as if
some great beast was drawing its final breath. Then for what felt like an eternity,
nothing.
Silence. Not even a whisper, only the tears in my eyes and the blood in my ears. It
felt as if time
only remembered it had to move grudgingly. The moments seemed like ages. Then
all at once
the eye seemed to implode on itself in a screaming, churning convulsions as the
explosion
came.
The explosion... it leveled everything. I cannot speak to the protection which saved
the
buildings around us, but the strange man appeared worn and weary when the rubble
settled. He
looked as if he had stood vigil for days. His eyes were sunken and his cheeks were
thinner than I
remembered. The only things still standing were a few buildings. The rest of the
Ceriopolis, our
once great and enlightened city, was utterly devastated.
Stones were shattered to sand and dust and the walls were scattered in every
direction
for miles. The wooden buildings were nothing but splinters. Root cellars were torn
from their
deep earthen dens, root and stem, and sent hurtling through the air like a childs toy.
The
destruction was on a scale I lack the words to properly articulate.The strange man
was oddly
still. He did not move nor talk for quite a duration. I stood silently awash in the terror
of what had
just happened. I pondered what in existence that thing could have been or why it
came here and
what it was searching for. I was without words for the evil I had just watched destroy
the city I
had devoted my life to for an age.
Then I remembered the girl; the dedicated and unrelenting young girl who saved me.
I
remembered how she undoubtedly died in the explosion, or perhaps at the dockside,
or perhaps
escaped with the Dominus Chaus. I began to weep. It was all too much. It was all
gone. They
were all gone. I was alone in a world devoid of hope. She is downstairs preparing.
She did not
need to see this. The events beyond were what was important. This must be
remembered.
These events and this evil must never be allowed to rise again.
I was still reeling from the events I had just witnessed when I started to climb down
from
the roof. I missed my handhold entirely and tumbled roughly and landed in a

crumpled heap upon

the cold stony ground. I think I was knocked unconscious for a time. When I came to
I was still
lying on the ground but everything looked brighter. The sun was shining and I was
warmer than I
had felt in months. I had blood running down my forehead stinging my eyes and the
aches from
where I landed badly were throbbing. I was fairly certain I might have broken my
ankle, or at least
turned it. All of my broken bones were aching. I was a canvas of war wounds, cuts,
scrapes,
scars and shattered bones. In all of the pain and fear and loss, the unspoken danger
had finally
ended and the shivers in my spine could stop.
I managed to pick myself up and hobbled towards the hall. The strange man was
helping
the girl cover the tables. This ancient building was host to our beginnings. This place
gave birth
to an unprecedented defiance to the savage legions. This place was being covered
and
forgotten. I remember it was that moment when I was struck by how furious I was. I
remember
the rage which consumed me boiling over and I turned to scream in defiance of this
place being
forgotten. I wanted to know how such a symbol of virtue and justice could just be
abandoned. I
remember I filled my lungs and turned to scream.
The strange man was an inch from my face. I choked on my rage and wilted before
his
gaze. He was not in a mood to brook my insolence. I was politely informed I would
hold my
tongue and help cover the tables. I still had a duty to fulfill, as did two others. The girl
would be
staying with the strange man. She was needed here. The other kin I never met, but
he was
needed on Calliphestus.
I write this chronicle now to remember the trials and achievements of the past, but
also as a
warning to those who may find this place. Any who travel to this place must
understand the
dangers. The nights are long and full of rage. The howls of the cursed echo at night,
screams of
pain and fear, and the shambling flesh of those who are dead and yet still stand. This
is a place
of greatness. This is a place of legends. This is a place where the world holds its
breath and a
thousand eyes stare unblinking, waiting to see if virtue and chivalry will stand against
the tide of
selfishness, depravity and deceit.

We did not. We have fallen. We have failed to maintain what we achieved. We rested
on
the arrogant assumption we had succeeded. We were vain. We believe evil could be
defeated.
We gave away our virtue in times of peace and paid the ultimate price. Learn from
us. Now I
entrust this tome to safety, away from the ravages of the legions which hunt and
plunder. I am
required elsewhere now. I am to go far to the east and seek a human child named
Andarius. His
birth will be heralded with no significance, but it is said he will achieve great deeds. I
am to watch
and guide. It is from here I must leave and to here I must return, but I do not know
when I will next
see my home.
Officio Fidei Iustum,
Sumnus Aderika