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Early Summer, Year One in Her Reign

Words of Poison have spread. The False Ones are stirring and their subjects are flaunting their arogance for all to see. Edgar the Castellan, cursed be his name, has claimed singular reception of the unholy blessings of the King of Pestilence, Tagg Klatu, Lord of Man. She is not worried by such, but her temper is rising. Arrogance is a sin before the Unforgiving Princess.

Alecto, commander and lord general of the Abysian armies, have likewise claimed prophethood. Danethol, False God of Heavenly Fires have chosen well, because Alecto is already known throughout the world and many praise his name. Alecto will have to die the ugly death.

But not all words are poison. The Word of the Queen of the Sky is spreading and the faithful grow more numerous. Despite the presence of the much feared Ghoul Guardians. Witterich's successful campaign in the Tintalan Mesa and the revealing of the Prophet, Thorismund, have been good for morale in the city of Tintala.

She had chosen well. Thorismund finally acted, albeit a bit reluctant, and used Her gentle Name to comfort his frends and Her Unforgiving Name to smite the heathens.

The victory was as it should be.

Rumor of the battle has reached Tintala. In taverns all around the city, ministrels and troubadours praise the bravery of Thorismund and Witterich. Fortunately there were no ministrels present at the battle. The bravery displayed by the so called heroes was miniscule at best.

The dry wasteland west of the Tintalan Mesa is inhabited by a fierce tribe of uncivilized savages. They dress in hides and wolf pelts and worship ancestors and wolves, almost without distinction. Thorismund and Witterich will show them civilization. Hopefully they will enter battle this time. Such acts are great for morale, and will create more stuff for the ministrels to sing about.

Arcane words spoken through reverberations in the spheres have reached Her from Vault. The port is infested with heretics. Lizardmen of dubious motives sit in dark taverns near the docks and whisper with forked tongues, spreading the words of a False God. Tap, the Burning Soul, have several small shrines in the city already. More alarming still, C'tis and the city of Lent lies just a month by boat to the east. Albert has much to do. He will probably need further aid if he is to administer the downfall of C'tis.

This city of smugglers and merchants must be taken and cleansed. Fortunately there seem to be a group of mercenaries well suited to the task. Hector and his heavy horsemen should be able to deliver the city, at leas with the aid of the Ghoul Guard.

Gaiale, a fortuneteller, was rounded up and placed in the Ruined Keep. Since the Keep is rarely visited by the Black Priests she can probably work on magical projects without being put to the flames. Also the Keep is more influenced by the misfortunes of the land and Gaiale's ability of divination is probably best used here. It is unlikely thet these fortunetellers are learned enough to practice the schools of magic, so Gaiale is instructed to delve into the structured arcana of earlier times. The school of alteration should profit the young nation. There is much that need altering. But the recent appearence of the C'tissian threat makes the school of evocation more urgent. The Illuminated Ones need battle evocations when the time has come to destroy the Burning Soul of C'tis.

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Thorismund glanced around nervously. The last couple of days had not been good. Since the battle no one treated him as they should. Bowing and begging and smirking and hailing him whenever he wanted to be left alone, and that had become a perpetual wish by now. He tried to hide at times, but the Unforgiving Headache forced him to remain with Witterich and his army. They were heroes now, he had heard. Witterich looked like one, but Thorismund only felt silly.

It had started there in the middle of the battle. When he saw his friends suffer he called upon Her Name, and his friends heard Her through his voice. Afterwards they said that he was surrounded by an eerie glow. He knew well what they meant. The glow was still there. It would not go away, and it hurt his eyes when he tried to sleep. It hurt his head. It was almost as annoying as the constant voice in his head.

He had called Her Unforgiving Name in the battle as well. He had slain with
his voice alone. He was ready to throw up. Hopefully She would come up with his meagre breakfast. He would place his heel on her head and make it ache. Stupid God.

And now She wanted him to lead the few remaining men into the Tintalan Waste. He knew the land. If the wolf tribes would not kill them starvation would. The wolf tribes were fierce warriors and recent reports had informed Witterich that the tribesmen outnumbered his troops by two to one. Still the Goddess wanted them to pursue the task. He feared that She wanted him to become a martyr. He didn't like the prospect of that, but he had plans of his own. He hadn't survived this long by being brave.

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I send Albert into C'tis and recruit another Second Tier Member and some ghouls.

Gaiala is set to research evocation.

Witterich and Thorismund are sent to try overwhelming odds.
Thorismund is set to Sermon, Smite, smite, smite, smite, retreat.
Witterich hold x5 and attack.

I place a bid on Hector.