A Proposition from Nobody

[Shilukk]

Forces of Aphros and Delphina both march off to war. Blood is shed, hundreds of lives are lost.

Under the dark of encroaching night, a patience-tested shadow makes its move.


Delphina. Aphros. Vdalion. Even Port Fortune. All had their boards, their walls, plastered with papers. The intrusions go so far as the royal residences in their absence, as if meant to be delivered to the ruling authorities themselves.

We do not get along.

We squabble. We bicker. We wage war over less and less with each passing summer.

I do not presume to demand peace.

I presume to demand critical thought.

With each wound we inflict on each other, witches and necromancers hide in the shadows. Biding their time. Much less passing summers, the fiends grow stronger every day. Their numbers bolstered. Their power growing. Waiting until one of us falters, that they might twist us to their desires, and pick off the wounded victor. Victims of their defilement grow. The bodies in their names stack every month. What was once a negligible annoyance has become an undeniable threat.

I do not demand peace.

I demand a witch-hunt.

A temporary peace-time. To root out the defilers in our midst. Amongst our peers. To slay the witch, the necromancer, the practitioners of vile arts. They pick at your numbers; a boon for your enemies, until they too are befallen by the heretics. And the longer we suffer their eyes to gaze upon our battering of each other's walls, the less we have to defend against their advances. Weary, war-torn minds to be stolen by witches. Mountains of corpses turned into mountains of undead.

The more we fight, the easier we make ourselves to kill. And the sooner their eve consumes us all.

Hear me, then. Leaders. Nobles. Warriors. Citizens.

I posit a truce.

We may never be allies. But we are better enemies, than puppeteered corpses dancing to a heretic's whims.

I trust I have given you something to ponder.

I invite you to discuss your terms.

The letter's handwriting fluctuates with every few lines. It holds no specific style. No tell. "Darkly-clad figure" is the only description available by the guards and citizens who managed to glimpse the intruders.

[mat13295]

-
As Aphros emerges, bloodied and scarred, yet victorious from combat, it would seem a small group of undead ravens were caught flying over the city of balance. Naturally, the guard shoots them down. Each one however had fulfilled its purpose for upon their boned talons are letters, dedicated to none, yet addressing all that manage to scoop them up.
-

The people of Aphros likely tire of such wars. Of constantly seeking bloodshed. But alas, you must. For today you one of your countrymen's magi have been dragged off by the vile bugman to their hive. A Nobleman and beloved craftsmen of many of your fine tools and weapons. Truly now, after such loss of life and the constant existential threat of being fed to a tree, how can one afford peace?

For the actions of the Oracle will surely not allow it. The grandest disrespect to the Delphinian people has been delivered. The destruction of their city's crown.

There will be no peace, only death. One must eradicate the other so they may live. Such is the nature of this conflict. I, however, offer an accord. Whilst your paranoia seeks to root out what few capable soldiers and fighters remain within your city for a 'witchunt', the bugs engorge themselves. They seethe with hatred and temper new steel to haul off more citizens of Aphros in vengeance.

Faced with eradication, one must make a decision. To continue the hunt, further weakening your own and allowing the insectoid to swell in mass for another assault? Or, the more heinous of ideas to your people.

An alliance with those that can turn the tide of war.

The cult of Quietus may be dedicated to the pursuit of immortality for all, but it is not unreasonable. We welcome those of a more level head to speak with Supplication. Eradication of the insects is, afterall, in everyone's interest. Necromancer's don't simply grow on trees like insects do. It would be prudent to focus on destroying the tree than the smattering of those that could assist in saving all of your lives.

An army of undead to face a devouring swarm. That is what I offer.

May he who resides within the Domain of death watch over you all in these troubled times. And walk softly into the night.