I will preface this with a humble and polite, "I told you so."

Hollow are the victories of Death.

Bear witness yourself to what I spoke to numerous of your kind, this is not an Imperator touting the Strength of Undeath in this post. (Despite my inherent reason to do so) However, as I have spoke willfully to the Pentarch of the Templar, the scholars of the Archivum, the Senate of the Republic, and those willing to cease their inherent bravado for a moment of discussion.

The realm of Death fractures by the unfettered, unruly power of the Underking.

Much as we who serve Azvosh Rakar and the Earthen Father strive to maintain the Pillars and the boundaries between the realm of Earth and the Prime Material, so too must Death be kept in check. Does not the crack he caused to the mirror give you concern, does not the truths of my words ring within your ears somewhere buried in the blind zeal of a short-lived celebration.

The difference is, that while your eyes gazed so fondly upon a "war" that your God initiated, we were brought to continue, to persist in our charge, a charge beyond what much of your religion comprehends. Those who may understand such a charge would be the servants of Dendara, so I implore the Praadi and the Shamans to impart appropriate information and share what happens to a plane troubled. Surely someone amongst you self-righteous lot has some Gods damned sense.

Even now, the mirror itself struggles, perhaps worse than it did prior to this war. Perhaps you need realize that a problem worsens at times with the successes of battles. As I instructed the Empire much throughout this charade death perpetuated, victory is not in these hollow battles atop the mountains, but in our resolve and understanding of our duties. How many of yours went for any other reason than bloodshed, even amongst your own ilk, you flooded the mirror with souls, damaging it further. Your Souls.

So raise your flagons at yourselves, for the war is not over, merely this battle.

The Earth does not sunder by the shed of blood, it grows stronger.

We persist,

Imperator Nipsy

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 23rd of Slyphian, in the year 500 MA.