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From The Temple Of Helvallt

MidnightRey

Ruler of the Abyss
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Small parchments would be left labeled around the city for all to see, placed there by dismembered hands of barely visible phantoms to the normal eye. The paper looked somewhat old and fragile, the writing itself was made from a drippy black ink that splattered sometimes around the parchment. But still readable all the same.

"You come to this city claiming to want to destroy our Gods. You come to our graveyard digging a hole into the ground and attempting to inject a fungus deep into it. So that it may spread to all the bodies within their final Resting Places. And consume them into nothing but bone, instead of allowing the proper passage of time to do its job. Your sins have not gone unnoticed for we know full well what you were trying to do. We of the Helvallt Temple will not stand for your blatant disrespect towards our Gods and the Dead any longer. Let me speak for all of us when I say, we will not stop until every last of you damned Bralona are gone from the city for good. And take this as a warning to leave our Gravesites alone or be faced with worse consequences."



Ania Sagh, The Tech Priestest​
Taleos Necratos, The Arch-Fabicator​
Alexeios Katapodis
MB "The Orchestrion"
(OOC Note, supporters of Ania are encouraged to leave a comment down below. None supports to, because you know, let the fun conflict roll.)
Tagging the amazing staff who run this show.
 
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It seems someone had gone through and added the following to the backs of a great many of the parchments:

SOON

DAWNS

THY

RECKONING
 
A thin figure reached out with long, slender fingers, plucking the parchment off the board. Her dimly lit Ordial gaze roving over the paper before placing it back. Her expression remained unchanged as she whispered softly to herself, "In due time... these Bralona will get what they deserve." A moment later, the Bene Rexit had disappeared into the shadows. Leaving nothing but a slight chill to the breeze.
 
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A passing salesman takes a second glance at the notice. Following a brisk smile, he seems to find no issue spreading it onto many a wall.
 
The sergeants continued to make its way further into High Command's basecamp. Runnam approached the far wall, and set its sensor upon one of the many tables in the ex-Foodcourt. Reaching out for a paper which had been left for examination, long multi-jointed claws of shining metal smoothed out into soft fingers, gently picking up the posting to read it over.

Runnam gave hardly a visual reaction as it finished doing so, speaking to the hat-wearing Bralla beside it. "'Rest', they call it. Are the locals aware that even if they can die twice, that death is not some sort of sleep and paradise? They rot, and are gone. It is a shame they are so devoted to remaining mastered by their so-called 'gods', that they cannot see this 'afterlife', and promise of rest as what for what it really is."

Claws returned, and crumpled the paper within its hand, piercing through the old and delicate parchment in more than a few places. The Bronn flicked it into a nearby fire, watching as once lively wood, converted to then wood-pulp, turned then into smoldering, dead ash. "In words reminiscent of the General's: what better way to keep worshipping slaves in line, than promising them paradise in eternity, beyond their current existence in misery? Why would they want to change what is here now, if they will receive everything in a 'beyond'? It is a shame."
 


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