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Primus,

Normally, I would permit you such meaningless gloating. A war was fought and won, and with that comes the ability to run your mouth, no matter the absolute dribble that comes out of it. Normally, I wouldn't even mention how the plane watches people leave the Empire. Why, if battlelogs are to be believed, even the Tyrant's own husband has fled to the wilds.

Snacks, right?

Or, perhaps, it is simply that your grip grows loose. The Sanguine Fist, little more than a dainty brush of fingers.

People throughout the land see the truth: The Age of Dawn is coming. The Akkari Host refuse to bow to any oppressors, to any infidels, and our reach shall be far and encompassing. There will be no rock left to hide under, no shadowed corner for you to skulk to when the heat of our Spirits grows too hot. Liberation shall become the law of the land, even if we must drag every single one of you kicking and screaming into it.

The land has already been bathed in holy fire, all that remains is for it to be reborn.

Enjoy your eternal night while you can, Primus. No matter how long the night, the Dawn always rises.


Grand Crusader Rasani Morrog, Dajan Za'anak Avekkak

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 25th of Lleian, in the year 509 MA.