This dark, Commander Simms addressed the citizenry of Sanctuary, declaring the Spellguard's plans in the event of invasion.

My dear Citizens

For the past 153 years, Sanctuary has endured.

From within, the dread Thool’oon arose to enthrall those who strove to protect us. Albert Ubel inspired the secessionist rabble of the Sanctuary Below into rebellion that would have torn the city asunder and broken the leaguer we have maintained for centuries. The lycanthrope Chosen have savagely torn at our foundations, the vile Drow have marched to our walls. Yet our Sanctuary has always endured.

Yet it is imperfect, malleable. Flawed. In enduring, it weakens as the best of us falls to protect the weak. The Sanctuary Council served 153 years as the sovereign protector of the liberties and lives of the citizenry. However, even as the wardens continued to serve the people with the aegis of legislature, they grew rotten from the core. The days have long since passed when men of the calibre of Jadderly Donrick and Henry Archibald sat in office. They were replaced, instead by a string of corrupt bureaucrats and unhinged ideologues. Khovn, Gravemantle, Ubel, Paxtor, Hastian, Cheval. And finally, the mandate of the Council was all but spent. For decades the Order has stood by, observing the slow decline of the system put into place by our illustrious founders, and finally, we could not longer stand by and allow destruction to occur without struggle. The Chosen arise from the depths, awoken from their long slumber. From the dark places of Dunwarren, untold thousands of lycanthropes swarm upwards unchecked. Traensyr has arisen anew, drenched in the blood of their kinsmen and calling out for vengeance. And it is now that treacherous voices in the Watch call for mutiny, even as our walls collapse into disrepair. And so, solemnly, we have acted.

There is little doubt many of those risen in revolt do so with the intention of saving our Sanctuary. There is little doubt there always is. The words espoused by the seditionists wear a different face, but the content has not changed. Even as his men sought to tear apart the structures that had maintained the cohesion of our society for a centaury, Montgomery Ubel promised absolution. Ivlysar Tal’en’qir tirelessly worked for an exodus that would end only in sorrow, espousing the corruption and decadence of our society. And so, Dorn Reynolds makes compact with these men even as he declares himself to be the herald of the legacy of Azrus Azzam. But the most terrible crime of these seditionists lies in their refusal to look outside of the walls. Even as the Chosen advance upon us, they sow discord and revolt. As the darkness threatens to close around us completely, they strike at us in the company of exiles and rebels. Whilst preaching hope and victory, they offer you nothing but defeat, a long exile and death.

Order must be restored. With stormclouds gathering even as I speak, it is with trepidation I announce that the prospect of military victory against our foes becomes an increasingly unlikely event. I speak with confidence that the insurrectionists shall be soundly defeated in good time, though at what cost to the continuing strength of our defence organisations I cannot yet venture.

In the final days before the fall of Dunwarren, when the threat of invasion from the Drow and myriad other foes became fully realised, the machinists of Dunwarren completed work upon a certain part of the Machine that would ensure the continuing survival of the metropolis. Forged by subtle hand, and magics of a kind not contemplated by mortal minds since the fall of old Netheril, they would have surely lasted millennia more. Were it not for the coming of the lycanthropes.

He lets the sentence hang poignantly.

Over the past months, the Order has learned of this system. We have investigated it, studied it. And finally we have reactivated it. The West Dunwarren Defence Plexus, originally intended to stave off the advances of outward foes have been directed inwards. The Tower and its environs shall be sealed, and any threat of aggression shall be cast from the minds of the citizenry. Cease to place your hopes in the high minded ideals of the seditionist- no longer follow the ramblings of half-forgotten Prophets from ages past. Thusly, it is hereby decreed by the Commander of the Spellguard and the Overseer of Sanctuary that in the event of invasion, the loyal population of the City is to seek sanctuary in the Spellguard Enclave.

It is in the 153rd Year of our Sanctuary that it shall be remade. And it shall endure.

The apparition flickers out of focus to much uproar.