People of Sapience,


Lament not the coming of war. Revel instead in the gifts of the Lord Most Holy. To bleed, to endure, to fall and rise anew in fury and defiance, these things are His grace. There is no shame in hardship, there is no defeat in adversity. Savour the taste of blood in your mouth and the bitter bite of loss in your throat, let these glorious blessings gird your resolve and make of your will a blade.


It is this that will see us through. This is our land. This is our charge. The people of Enorian are interlopers, nothing less and nothing more. They squat upon the Father's land and sup of His bounty, while peddling the abominable. They speak of negotiations offered and rejected, as if one negotiates with the rabid beast which has taken up residence in the yard.


Remember this well. The path to heresy is paved with concessions. It is paved with mercy, tolerance, and inaction. Spit in their eye, people of Sapience. When you fall, offer them nothing but the promise of return. When you rise anew, rejoice in the fact that you stood unbowed.


To the people of Enorian, I say this now. Repent or burn is what you offer the world. Allow me to shorten this to something even Xenaden should be able to grasp. Burn. There is no repentance for what you have done. His judgement is made. His sentence is rendered. So shall it be.


Ever His,

Whirran Arcan-Tetzauh

Herald of Strife

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 1st of Severin, in the year 508 MA.