Beloved people of Ephia's Well,
The darkness has lifted, not by the wretched light of the betrayer sun, but by the iron of our very will. We, as your Legates, acted in solemn truth, seeing the rot of Kha'esh seeking to consume Arlsan and all we hold dear. Yet, even as we moved to cleanse this sickness, some bartered faith for coin or false promise....like little vermin spies. Know this, people of Ephia's Well, these foes, these blasphemers, were not merely misguided. No, they were abominations, traitors to order, parasites who sought to feast upon our labor and devotion.
They harbored the lowest of men—brokers of blood and betrayers of trust!
Names that should be spoken only with curses: Argent Argyris, Gedwyr Karstcleft, and the craven Oswick the Lame, who scuttled in darkness, whispering treason like a serpent in the ears of the wicked. They sheltered such filth, and condemned themselves.
They bowed before the will of a High Programmer of Qa'im!
A false master, a deceiver, guiding them to twist the pure into the profane. With mechanical precision, they sought to chain Arlsan's people, to grind their spirits into dust beneath unholy designs. Tyranny's hand is one we sever with steel.
They tortured the civilians and Tutors of Arlsan alike!
Toiling under the lash, the faithful were forced to labor, stripped of dignity, robbed of freedom. They sought to desecrate the mines, to drain them bare, enriching themselves with stolen wealth. This was their justice, a law written in chains. We shattered their bonds. We cast them down.
They turned their bodies to filth in the name of the wretched Pra'raj! Blasphemy! Blasphemy!
Let none forget what was seen. Hundreds bore witness to their debasement, their perversions made open in the scald, spurning the Mother's waters. They forsook her embrace, spat upon her mercy, and proclaimed themselves beyond redemption. But there is no escape from judgment.
They sought to take Bet Nappahi from us!
Not content with Arlsan, they slithered forward, intending to rip from our grasp what we bled to claim. Cowards, thieves, jackals scouring the wake of herons. They believed us weakened, distracted in our triumph. But they did not know us. They did not know our fire.
But now they know. They know the wrath of the faithful. They know the fury of those who do not yield, who do not kneel.
Rejoice, people of Ephia's Well. The falsehood of Kha'esh is broken, its heralds cast down. The hyena's jaws have snapped upon nothing but the wind. We stand unbroken, we stand victorious. By the Mother's grace, by our steel and our will, let this be a lesson written in blood...Ephia's Well shall not falter!
-Alexandria Sayburgh