Mulariad and Sapience at large,

There are far more glorious ways to embrace the cold embrace of death than some platformed execution, surely me leaving you hanging from the boughs of the oak recently was enough for you to get an up close and personal look at the crack in the mirror that the Underking caused to his own domain.

I am certain the rhetoric has been spun in such a manner, that the objective of my intrepid ley traversing band was to harm the cycle, and while such things would give this Imperator nothing but copious amounts of maniacal glee, I assure you such was far from the case.

Let me share with Sapience at large what -actually- happened.

As you are well aware, my studies alongside my esteemed lich, Ewis have involved the bodies of...hundreds...at last count, of the living denizens of this realm, albeit they weren't living at arrival. Each body studied with such an intensity that we were able to succeed in the first phases of our efforts in record time. An accomplishment for the research facilities at the Lich Gardens, especially after the countless failures and poorly managed efforts made by the former head, Venicus....the fool. Upon succeeding in dissecting and divulging, we were able to move on to living subjects.

I am certain the sound of rattling bone still echoes in the fell hole of Abelaas, the dockyards of Jaru, and even more the precious quarters of dear Father Garron. With ingenuity we coerced them for study, and with similar intensity we were met with a wall, or perhaps better suited a mirror, in which the souls of the Cycle once more found the living, and studies ceased progress. Frustrating, I assure you.

Efforts came forth, and in this, since word spreads fast, one was noted to be present within the Glade of Heroes, long awaiting Dhaivol's return, you know, the half of my God, the half of your God, combined, so many years ago, folk tales for some of us younger folk I would assume. We made our efforts to see this soul returned for purpose, for their particular set of skills, something in which Father, has half of a claim over command, you know due to to the points I made out previously. So to call it theft is a bit beyond me.

Nevertheless, we acquired what we needed, and per advice maintain a civil and respectful demeanor within the Underking's halls, I was on my best behavior I assure you, shocking really. As we created the rift to return to the Prime material plane, the very foundations of the Underhalls shuddered with the rage of the Underking, and as our Father urged us to depart, the Lord of Death, Himself called upon the powers of the realm of Death with such an intense, emotion-laden anger that the world itself shuddered by His will. The Mirror itself began to crack, and as the Underking swung his mighty scythe the crack presented itself in -HIS- foolishness.

The reason the souls bleed into the Prime, the reason the mirror nearly broke, the reason that the realm of Death falters, is due to the Underking's inability to control his emotion, and nothing more. You fight on behalf of one of the weaknesses of the Cycle, the mindful acknowledgement of this will serve the Cycle greater, than thinking that anything within the cold, unbeating heart of Undeath cares about the emotional connotations of this battle. For what it is worth, you are the Underking's clean up crew, and if we can gain anything from this war that He started, we are only stronger for it. If we gain souls from this conflict, we are greater for it. If His failures serve that of Undeath in any fashion, he brought it upon Himself, and those of the cycle.

So I suppose I should thank him, for his inability to control his rage, it serves us well.

Continue to shed blood, be it of your allies or enemies, the Earth will drink deep of the sanguine rivers which now run down Sapiences mountainsides. For there is Strength in Earth. Remind yourselves, that the fragility of the Cycle has proven itself, in the Corruption of Dendara, the disease of the Bloom, the weakness of the Underhalls foundations. The pestilence and rot of living flesh bears weakness. The only purity is in Undeath, is in the Earth.

May we never know peace,

Imperator Nipsy

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 23rd of Niuran, in the year 500 MA.