Once upon a time, when the blood moon Sukhder shone close overhead, the
people of a bustling city uttered prayers for respite from the Eastern
Horde and praised the new armistice with their old captors. Who better
would know the danger after finding records of Lyria's escape and the
venerated Night of Morr's Embrace? Or perhaps the Phantoms? What better
now than to appease the monster that certainly has ever threatened the
world in all parts? Indeed, this city, busy with drinking, merriment,
and eating truffles, did rejoice until the one fateful night, as the red
of the demonic moon was reflected on the paved streets: lorekeepers and
mages gathered at the crossroads, muttering and chanting as they
protected themselves with magick spells. The night air was taut and
heavy with expectation.

Orcs and ogres, warmages and warlords alike invade the city with greater
intensity than had been witnessed for hundreds upon hundreds of years.
The forces of Aetherius come to suppress the onslaught of the Horde,
remembering the destruction of ancient Caanae and what it entailed in
the face of knowledge, progression, and tranquility (or is it drinking,
merriment, and eating truffles?). The city felt keenly the reward of
their truce, for now they had only to overcome one enemy, and it might
be added, green and equally ugly enemy. But heyho! What hails now! Are
those demons we see? Are those the colors of our old captors' flag? Ahh,
it is a pity to have allowed them time to conspire among themselves.
(only imagine the indignation! Then again, weren't these demons and
imperialists also apparent after the uncovering of Kaark'Krazul?)

But who better to know the danger, afterall? It must not be obvious that
the Horde has never touched Stavenn in the past. The mutual benefit of a
ceasefire (particularly at this time) is much more clear, which in turn
extends to all parts of Aetherius, including the precious nature (I hear
trolls are delicate).

Naomi Anar

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Halitus, in the year 459 AD.