So shall it be declared in the year 502 of the Midnight Age, the relentless march of Bloodloch across Sapience, guided anew by the Imperial Mandates in order to proclaim the universal truth that only the strongest can dictate history.

Blood is the birthright of the city, a symbol of power that seeps deep into the gluttonous earth upon which it is built, that baptises us in the throes of battle, burning within us as hot and thick as the lava beneath our cavernous abode.

As the pillars of Azvosh ever bear the weight of the crushing sky, so too shall the shoulders of Bloodloch bear the exemplary mantle of that most lofty of goals, the dominion of Empire. It is not morality that raises the foundations of society, nor is it compassion that bears witness to the rise and fall of lesser powers.

The monoliths of Earth hold back the onrushing apocalypse, the pivotal monument to salvation and destruction in equal measure. As they were forged in Strength and Blood, so too are we.

The Bloodlochian Empire decrees that those who seek to serve beneath her sanguine banners should draw instructions from the Codex of Imperial Laws (HELP LAWS BLOODLOCH). Individuals would otherwise do well to apprise themselves of the revised consequences of crime committed against the city.

I am,
Tyrant Elene Arcan-Tetzauh

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 4th of Khepary, in the year 502 MA.