Amidst a tumultuous crisis, a resolute priestess, Palade Avincus, raises the standard of Pylae. The air crackles with anticipation as a call to arms reverberates throughout the lands of Meranthe, to ignite the hearts of the faithful, summoning them to mobilize.

A Holy War has been called.

Palade Avincus Wrote:"Bear witness to the undeniable truth, for the tree's roots were nurtured by the hands of Eleos, not yours to claim as you assert tyrannical dominion over Frontier. Eleos stood in opposition to the synthetic abominations and their unholy alliance with the Horde, a stance you once dared to endorse.

Your feeble attempt to shift blame and avoid accountability is as unpalatable as it is transparent. I shall shoulder the burden of your incompetence in dealing with this grave matter. The Animunculi will no longer be failed caricatures of human nature."

---

Objective: Begin the siege upon Final Frontier; to claim the synthetic creation area and investigate deeper into the vault and its many secrets.

Raid Type: Holy War.

Silent days went by within Audhild following the news of the Degree by Palade against Final Frontier.

Quote:When you first started making artificial life, I assumed it was a one-off experiment. Something in poor taste, but perhaps for some greater good in the long run. In the grand scheme of things, the Institute is still a young organisation and prone to making missteps, considering whether they *could* before thinking about whether or not they *should.*

The creation of artificial life, however, has gotten to a point where it can no longer be ignored. The librarian golem was one thing: clearly identifiable as a machine and of dubious sapience, it was tolerable. Since then, however, as technology has "advanced", so have the machines. More are being made and quicker, with minds more and more akin to those of true life. Some are nigh-impossible to tell apart, bearing both skin and having learned personalities. Others claim to have souls.

They branch outward, burrowing themselves into other nations to subvert and report back home. They undermine the sanctity of the hunt, for a machine neither needs nor wants, yet they hunt all the same in their efforts to mimic life. I would have more sympathy if you had summoned demons like a normal heretic.

I'm afraid there is naught to discuss, unless you've suddenly become amicable to the idea of destroying the machines and aborting all plans to create more indefinitely. Their presence sullies Solais, the tree of hope.

Do you remember what you said about your 'direct descendant of the divines'? Mother Nemea created us with purpose, too.

It is one we shall fulfil, unlike the machines which are born for nothing, of nothing, the walking embodiments of hubris and sin. None are above the natural order.

As it seems a reminder is necessary, we will be supporting this in full.



You said you would pray for us. Rest assured there is no need, for we are already blessed; already saved.

-
The dust settles, the sands calm, the chaotic chattering seems to cease.
A letter, a contact, words of understanding. The Frontier no longer in a scramble.
-

Quote:"It appears as if I have received word that the original incitement of this conflict has ceased, at least from the original source. Good for all of us, I suppose. While this does not come without it's consequences of relations, I do hope that can be patched for the future. Until then, you are welcome to come to the Frontier and enjoy the sights once more - I ask that in the future you refrain from any sort of this... Activity, please."

The ruinous carapace of the Incandescent title bled dry. The incumbent drawing no word nor public presence. The silence is deathly, and eerie save for the fleeting whispers of the desert winds. The non faith endorsed Enclave has abandoned the title of Incandescent as its leading figure, furthermore strange tidings follow the whispers.

Aenite vessels carrying a series of ornate boxes, delivering these packages to the Sainted Enclave, now reforming as the Sainted Church.

A war once thought averted, only delayed itself for reinforcement, and religious approval. Hallowed Text leads to a reignited march.


August 8th
6:00 PM EST

Far in the dunes is there the ineffable march of hundreds on the muffled step of deep sand. Its shifting beneath the advance of many rattles in the desert wind as a fricative chorus wrought in steel and hoof.

A pincer comprised of Astra and Umbra to intercept Dal'thalan forces from joining the assault.

Long aided by those of the Frontier and Audhild in its incursions, while those of the Enclave and Delphina idled, denizens of the Twilight City make way to return the favor of her allies. By Oracular decree, a substantial contingent of the Bastion mobilizes to protect the Frontier from its sanctimonious despoilers.


Aphros honors the call.

Quote:

“Never changes does it? My good folk, would we sit idle as those that claim themselves righteous would destroy progress? This so-called Holy War will not be allowed to prevail. Synthetics, are still precious life. Fortune will not sit idly as our dreams are accosted by fools so lost in their zealotry.

 

So it must be, that I retire this long time of peace. Ready the fleet, prepare the Battalion, the very nature of our freedom is at stake. For all Sentionauts, and Animunculi. For the good sake of prosperity, we will not watch as Meranthe destroys a chance for a greater future.

 

Not this time.”

Near Final Frontier, a black shadow flies up with big wings, a drakanite stand on its back shining brightly with holy light as a roar is heard across Dawnstone. 

The Dawnwatch Order starts to arm themselves and to march towards Final Frontier in its defense, often the old Director helped and requested help from Dawnstone.

Giants, Ookami, Drakanites, Razuka and humans march together, many prayers to different faiths are heard as they march.

Audhild asked for a stance and so did the Frontier, after words and letters were exchanged.

Dawnstone answers to its call.