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[Dealthagar]

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If nothing else, even when all had been dark, under a banner of truce, he had been able to speak rationally with him. King Talon could be insufferable, but reason, spoken calmly could reach him. It had always been so. And Molly. Gentle, motherly, Molly. Seeing people suffer brought her to action. It always had.

The Herald held his face in his hands. The table before him lay cracked, the goblet that had stood on it shattered. Both a victim of his rage...and sorrow.

He had gone to Sanctus, knowing the battle was fresh. His relations with Talon would keep him from harm, he was certain of it. If he came openly, to speak peacefully, the King would not refuse him. Dealthagar knew the rules of Sanctus. He had often pushed the boundary of them during the days of the Awakening, just to see how quickly the squires would summon their masters. It had been a game back then, but one that taught him much of Talon and his resolve.

He stood before them, humbled, and spoke passionately about his desire to help the Gypsies of Minoc. He was a ruler of men, like them. Surely they understood the need for citizens to be able to live free of fear for a city to prosper. Even in Caina, the citizens were free to work and live, all in the name of Oblivion.

Ignorance. Hatred. Blindness. These were the pillars that had replaced Truth, Love and Courage.

Molly had looked upon him like a piece of filth. So consumed with keeping her title and heraldry, so infatuated with having a string of words around her name, she was willing to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Wolves of Stonegate, the same people who days earlier threatened to take all she held. Humility was lost on her.

Talon had referred to the monster who recklessly killed the gypsies in their camp as "a saint", compared to the Ebon Skull. A saint! So blind with rage, so limited in view, he was willing to toss a people to a murderous fate, rather than stand beside people willing to free them. Odd how paladins have no need for Compassion or Justice anymore.

Molly and Talon had stood shoulder to shoulder with Regent Stormcrow, and now stood in battle with warriors without the virtues. So focused in their hate, so complete in their disdain, they nodded in agreement to the assertions "Stonegate will not protect those who cannot fend for themselves." How far had the righteous fallen in his absence?

They would rather band in hate against the Skull then help a people in need. They, who months earlier would have torn each other to bits, would rather make war on Umbra, than assist a people being killed in their beds.

And so in this topsy-turvy world, it was left to the Children of the Skull, the faithful of Oblivion, to police this daughter of Caine, and rescue a people oppressed and hunted, while the forces of light plotted to carve up the land for themselves and hand away self important titles to the members of their grand alliance. So fixated in their ignorance, so self-bloated with pride, they were worthy heirs to the Shadow Conclave of Caina.

The words of his consort still burned in his ears. Her anger, her sorrow, they hung in the air long after she left. Her son had taken up arms against her without compunction. The betrayal was complete. The rawness of her heart that night was felt as she lashed out at Dealthagar. Her accusations weighed heavily on him. Did he care more for the Gypsies than his own people? Why did he feel this need to save them?

Even if they were not his kin, the spirit of the blood ran true. It was a thing he could not explain, not bring to words.

He stood and closed his eyes hard, crushing away the crimson tears that threatened to fall. With every day came another reminder of how much the world had changed, how much it had fallen in his absence.

He growled, hissing through gritted fangs. "Fine. We shall be the monster they wish us to be. They would offer me redemption? 'Walk away from the Lich and we will talk.' Lies and baseless foolishness. Oblivion is my master, my power and my birthright. They want to speak of ruin and damnation, while they sit in their towers of glass, casting stones while people they are forsworn to defend are harmed? I will give them what they want. I will give them the war, the blood the hate they ask of us. They will choke on the bile they spew, and we will drown them in rivers of blood that flow from the throats of their women and children. Let them call me monster now. If they will not respect my words, they will fear my actions!"
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The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
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[Grignag]

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A magical glitch had occured somewhere during the casting of the gate. Intending to come through the void islands, the gate had deposited the forces of the Denizens and the Order north of Sanctus. It was odd... but irrelavent. They were here now and they would find their quarry. As Izrem turned his gaze towards Castle Blackguard he took notice of the force collecting there.

More than he expected, really... wait... were those... Guardians of Stonegate...?
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Izrem had never laughed this hard in his life. In an hour that proceeded the battle, riotous laughter could be heard echoing through the halls of the Scholomance. There was no mirth in his laugh, nor joy. It was a quake from within Izrem's soul slipping loose as years of speculation and study came to the forefront.

When he had first seen the Wolves of Stonegate on Sanctan lands he had presumed that they had beaten the Order to the punch and attacked first. But as he saw them mass together, albeit without truly mixing ranks, he had seen something that he had been beginning to wonder would ever come to pass. Entropy had finally come to pass on Sanctus. It's fortresses yet stood defiant and its numbers did indeed swell, but its spirit had shriveled and died. Izrem had never considered Sanctus to be a pure iteration of the virtues. Indeed he doubted a nation could hope to survive and espouse all of them at once. But he had always viewed Sanctus as a land that, if nothing else, always tried to fight their "good fight". As of last night, that was over. So concerned with winning and spiting the Ebon Skull they had taken assistance from long fought and still current enemies and shielded an undead murderer, if not her body then her actions.

With this action, the era of the Lightbringer was over. With the rise of Blackmarsh, the expansion of Stonegate and their alliance to Tokuno, the increasing militancy of Sanctus... it was now the era of the Empire-Builders. It did not matter who was right and wrong. Simply who had the most toys at the end of the day.

His diaphragm ached and his lungs burned as the laughter finally subsided. Weakend as he was by the extremely uncharacteristic outburst he still managed to collect two scrolls and enough ink to write two seperate letters. He needed to share this magnificent moment with the two players that had done the most to see it come to pass: The King of Sanctus and the Wolf King.
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Femmies?! HOWAH!

Can't we all just get along? No? Excellent.