The fall of an empire

In the early days of the sixth spring following Varian’s absconsion from Aetolia, as the ice melted and winter released its grasp upon the world, the Heartwood council toiled towards ends as yet unknown to their fellow city-states.

Disgruntled with the repeated trespasses of Salmati lumberers and the other arrogant activities of the budding ’empire’, Duiran’s finest hatched a plan to occupy the settlement and oust those who would refuse to live in harmony with the sacred Ithmian forests. Beginning first with bloody raids and mass slaughter, the wardens of Dia’ruis decried Salma’s disregard for the natural world, prompting the township’s villagers to flee for cover to protect their necks. Unwilling to offer even an ounce of mercy, the Heartwood’s military minds mobilised a division of soldiers. In short order, they marched upon the settlement, prompting Kyros, its great leader, to take umbrage with what he called ‘the screeching desperation of unlearned savages’.

Soon, tensions boiled over, and Dia’ruis and Her Guardian spirits once more made their thirst known to the Duirani. Driven by visions and omens, the cult of Life and Death turned to the traditional method of appeasement, knowing well that freshly spilt blood would nurture the soil and land for generations to come. With unwavering conviction, they began to conduct their sacrificial rites, kidnapping seemingly random villagers from Salma’s limits and making them suitable offerings to the Guardians and Gods of the Heartwood.

Unwilling to allow these violent overtures to go unchallenged, Kyros employed the services of a high jurismancer, a mage capable of rendering magically binding agreements and preserving them from tampering via closely-guarded enchantments, and sought aid from the other city-states of Sapience. Salma’s leader made boastful claims of incredible pay rates and benefits to the continent at large, prompting several interested parties to investigate for their reasons. Records recovered from the wreckage reveal an applicant pool largely populated by northern theocrats seeking violence, with then-Viceroy Whirran chosen as the first mercenary to protect Salma’s streets. Though the notorious Ogre made a valiant effort, he could not stop the raiding parties on his own, prompting Kyros to search for others to hire. Not a week later, Thronekeeper Myrnma was offered a contract that they happily signed after negotiating a higher prevailing rate for themself and, if only by accident, their Ogre co-worker.

As violence intensified and Kyros nervously awaited a response from a third prospect hailing from Enorian, the Heartwood escalated their assaults. No longer restraining themselves to single kidnappings, Duiran’s finest warriors organised regular raids and strikes to cull the guards and spill the blood of greedy mercenaries, loudly proclaiming to all who would listen that any blood spilt was a victory for the plane they sought to steward and tend. Fearful effigies and totems soon littered Salmati streets, prompting innocent civilians to barricade their doors and hide in their simple homes for fear of getting snatched up by ‘rabid savages’. Unwilling to allow this travesty to continue, Kyros ‘secured’ the services of Grand Duelist Sheryni Nebre’seir, if only to spare the town the trouble of her tandem terrorisation in the event of a rejected offer – a choice that would soon prove itself wise, for the mercenaries soon began to score fleeting victories that ensured the safety of at least one villager whose heart would otherwise have been given unto Griash in obeisance to His even-keeled guidance.

The Heartwood’s inexorable slaughter carried on for weeks, creating a gluttonous crimson river to slake endless Dia’ruian hunger. This act began to take a heavy toll upon the sworn cultists, who had no desire to indulge in cruelty for cruelty’s sake or slaughter motivated by malice and instead longed for resolution. Seeking to end the violence and ensure a decisive victory for their campaign, Watcher Sibatti held a closely guarded conference with Senvet, the foreign Aslinn mystic staying with her and the rest of the Praadi. Though the contents of this conversation are unknown to the Grand Library, our informants assure recordkeepers that the mystic soon ventured into the wilderness to lay the foundations for Duiran’s final strike, including communion with the sunny soliad fae.

When the final day arrived, Duiran’s hopeful cultists gathered in their sacred places and, at Senvet’s urging, conducted rites and ceremonies to implore their patron spirits to give them a sign – a sign that arrived as swiftly as they requested it.

It was raging Nivios who cried out for the blood of hubristic trespassers.
It was festering Z’krell, who longed for death, that told them to render it unto the land.
It was patient Vo’acha who bid them to strike, kill, and consume.

Confident in this mandate, Duiran converged upon Salma like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves, howling their startling battle cries and shrieking their shrill ululations. With knives in hand and hearts encased in the stone of mad devotion, the Heartwood dragged every last man, woman, and child from Salma’s limits and bled them dry before the sacred totems, giving unto Dia’ruis every last drop of life ensconced within their opened veins. Though brief outcry roiled through the council when the first youngling met their end, Dia’ruis’ devoted servants embraced their duty and stayed the course, claiming that the guardians had called for every life in Salma – not just the mature ones. As the Duirani strangled every last breath from the fallen ’empire’, so too did they ensure that the remains of the fallen found a respectful place – dragged across the flowers and roots of the Ithmia in a bloodied trail, each corpse returned to the village and became curse-laden effigies by the hands of hungry fae, covering the settlement in a legion of chilling warnings against Ithmian defilement.

Picked clean, bereft of a single occupant, the cultists of Ruin left once-Salma as a grim reminder of Duiran’s purpose – and a source of salvage for now unemployed, unpaid mercenaries.

Penned by my hand on Closday, the 7th of Sapiarch, in the year 8 AC.