[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 25 ----

(From The Collected Sayings of Pandokos the Prophet: In his first incarnation)



Sing, goddess, the anger of Pandokos of Pagasae

and its devastations, which put pains thousandfold upon the Mictlanians,

hurled in their multitudes to the house of Hades strong souls

of heroes, but gave their bodies to be the delicate feasting

of dogs, of all birds, and the will of Zeus was accomplished.



Everywhere I go in this land I become a little more sick. The empire of Mictlan, which festers to our north, uses the blood of the innocents to call devils up from the house of Hades. They employ massive armies of slaves, having decided that an entire clan of people are unworthy of freedom, and sacrifice them callously in their battle lines. I have this Last information on direct authority of a scout, many leagues to the north, who saw Mictlan's forces in battle some months ago. Meanwhile, as I go among the people, spreading the news that we do not worship the same foul, wretched god, I have to endure looks of fear and hate. The locals associate all military men with the patrols which used to come in the night, breaking into homes and tearing families apart as they took young girls off to die on the tops of their red-stained temples.

Sometimes in our travels we cross the borders into Tolk, or Horslund Forest. In these lands, still under the shadow, it is as if the sun itself has no power to bring light and cheer. Even Andromache, who is normally very happy (if silly), becomes a cloud of grief. No doubt she remembers her own captivity and near escape from death. We never see any young women on these trips. I hope that the locals have simply learnt to keep them well-hidden. The alternative, the madness, defies belief.

In the dark of night though, I fear I understand. It is hard to keep a string of petty, hostile, provinces united. And fear is a useful tool in a tyrant's box.

The Golanarians are revolting and it makes me mad. Villans now roam the highways of this province, cutting off our route back home. And yet I am not willing to drag my army through the mud for months on end to quell this problem. I am needed here. This close to the shadow, my men need me to keep from going mad, and soon, very soon, my skill in battle will be needed. I will write to the village elders telling them that the Golana problem is in their hands. I'm sure they can find some local hero willing to do a spot of police work.

---