Melek is with us

[Krush]

He is our leader. His priests with their trumpets will sound the battle cry against you. Men of Agon, do not fight against Melek, the God of your fathers, for you will not succeed.

[BroCainY2K]

Death to the day walkers!

[Teth]

Melek, our blessed Father and Lord, is indeed with us, and favours us mightily. He is a divinity of overawing might; what other god dwells on Agon amongst their adoring subjects? None other! Melek alone loves His children; all other pale, anemic powers view their supplicants as mere pawns and tools. Melek hears our fervent prayers, and Melek hears our voices. He is with us, in both spirit and flesh, and as such we cannot fail.

How the sundrinkers shall cower when the might of Nagast is unleashed in its full resplendency, with banners enough to drown out the hateful light and warriors enough to turn every farmland, every lake, every river, dark red with the blood of the heretics! Melek has foreseen a world painted crimson with the blood of the enemies of Nagast, and it pleases him! And what kind of children would we be if we did not seek to please our benevolent Father?

Sanguine shall be razed to the ground; its temples laughingly desecrated and replaced with monuments comprised entirely of the butchered remains of Morgaine's pathetic priesthood. Chardybis' legendary lakes will be choked with the bodies of the dead, and the water will be as black as night with rot. Ymir's Tear shall be a fateful name indeed; the dwarves will have boundless reasons to weep bitter tears of sorrow. The "city" of Flaming Skull? Pschah! It shall have to burn if we are ever to expunge the stench; its population is fit only for enslavement and being worked to the bone. The mahirim are unworthy of mention, for one does not bother with unthinking animals.

The time of the sundrinkers is not long to remain, my brethren: Melek has declared it so. Our power is waxing; our star is ever-ascendant. We but need His final word, His clarion call to holy war, and we shall conquer every corner Agon in the name of Lord Melek! Like Sithra Ahra itself, we shall cut through all opposition without pause!

Melek has but to ask it of us, and we, His faithful children, shall make it so! Hail to our almighty Lord and his eternal reign over us!

[Krush]

Be strong, do not fear; Melek will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.

[Teth]

Be strong, do not fear; Melek will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.
Better not to need His intervention or salvation, though; best of all to kill in His sacred name, to create a veritable tower of shattered corpses that threatens to storm the celestial spheres themselves, and to present that as an offering and token of fealty to Melek. Melek is our Father, yes, and we must always strive to please Him, but one does not please their Lord and Master by constantly begging them for aegis.

Fear is anathema to every alfar worth the blood and murder that is their birthright. We are fear.

[Merrin]

The trumpets you hear, guttersnipe, are the death wails celebrating the fall of one of your own. The witch Lilith, harlot of the devil, is dead, as is the squirming nest fostered by herself and the godless wretch named Vile. Why do you continue acting in the same crazed manner as she? Shimmergloom falls, and the best you grayskins can do is turn the leftover rubble into a lickspittle to House Shivering.

You cry kinship to fear, and yet the posturing on display here, in the aftermath of decay (a state the alfar are notorious for breeding) is outdone by the extremely rank odour seeping upward from your grubholes in the earth. You wreak of fear yourselves, terrified from having had this triad of illusion and power taken from beneath your nimble fingers. You tremble, shaken by the prospects you must now face alone, as you attempt to rebuild mudstricken walls to hide behind.

It is the Holy Church you now cower before, having witnessed what Our Lady's Most Righteous Will can do within your fragile assembly of miscreants and twisted magicians. It is the stability of Greater Mercia you look upon from your grovels in the soil, jealous of the peace and order maintained through the realm of the sons of men, and angered by the prospects of the wrath your overlord in Chaos shall render you for such notorius setback and failure.

With Shimmergloom castrated, we now consider Shivering. Less potent than the banner House we looked upon previously, Shivering is aptly named the House of Jokers, and has little in way of support from Nagast's greater multitude, other than a name that is made known only by the detestable will of the Devil himself. These Houses appointed by the Devil's court to stand on the public stage are mere puppets, and as seen with Shimmergloom are more often than not the most easily swiped aside when they become of no further use. It is with this premise that the Holy Church has been wise to adopt a future assertion, treating the popularly known Houses of Nagast as the weakest, while the strongest of the hand of Chaos remain hidden and protected.

You speak of razing Sanguine. Do you believe in that festering heart of your's that the stalwart of Red Order, The Watchful Eye, the Duchy of Wessex, Conviction, The Enclave and the Order of the Blade will be overridden so easily? The only razing you need keep in mind is when Our Lady's Holy Crusade is given leave to cleanse the underworld by fire and sword.

Infidels! Miserable wretches! Carnal serpents of sin and turpitude! Know your place in Agon, alfar, and stop this keening in the wind.

[Teth]

As is typical of any sundrinker, "Holy Father", you fail to realize the heart of the matter: the culling of Lilith from the fold was an act of putting down a traitor to Melek. By purging her and her damnable blasphemies, the cause of alfar unity has been strengthened. Melek brooks neither heretics nor idiots, and in retrospect, it is safe to claim that Lilith was very much both. But that is the past; Lilith has been struck from the eyes and favour of Melek forevermore, and is fit only for the companionship of sundrinking trash and unprincipled gypsies.

It is the same as expunging any worshipper of Malaut from your own fold, if you would; they are both dangerous and stupid in the eyes of you faithful Mercians, and so their throats must be slit. To brook their continued existence is to undermine yourself.

Even we alfar agree with your actions here, Mercian, for Malaut is a fool - greed is such a petty thing to worship. Better to worship power, raw power, unmitigated power - the power of blood and of will. Melek is power. Alone of all the Gods he, laughing to scorn, spits in the face of the pacts and agreements that have kept divinites from setting foot on Agon. Why has Morgaine not done so? Could it be that Morgaine is incapable? Perhaps afraid? Perhaps your beloved Goddess would not seem so pure if she reigned over you with manifest will and word. After all, we all know the tales of the word-stones: cold treachery and bloody-handedness is no doubt at Morgaine's doorstep, considering her current position. And yet you silly priests make her to seem so serene, so pure, so unsullied. Some sullying would do her good; perhaps then her - and all her faithful little monks - would realize a beautiful truth of the world, so readily grasped by our Divine Father as it is: there is no problem that violence, cunningly and judiciously applied, cannot solve.

Melek made us, His faithful children, to be His devoted slayers and murderers. We are His weapon in His grand crusade against the sky-kissed, sun-drinking, night-fearing trash that turgidly writhe across the surface of Agon like maggots on a mouldering carcass. The flash of cold steel, the thrill of flesh-flaying magicks, the pure glee that follows the hot gush of the enemy's blood and the glory of standing alone atop mountains of corpses, drenched head to toe in gore - these are our birthrights; these are what we were born to fulfill. Our entire race's reason to exist is to kill. How, then, can we quail or cower? To fear would defeat our very purpose. No, my dear sir, terror is our tool, nothing more. We wield it like we wield our sithras and attikas, our crossbows and our daggers: with deadly familiarity and intent. One does not tremble before their own weapons.

The Chaldeans had the good sense to fear us, "Holy Father" - it would appear the Mercians tragically lack this degree of understanding. No matter; Sanguine's time shall come too. Your kings and high priests will find sweet oblivion on Nagastian steel, just as it has always been. After all, you silly little sundrinkers have always had your most vicious of spats that distract you from the greater dangers. Do you think we alfar of worldy wisdom have not heard of your fervent declarations against the "Kult" of Eleador? You simply lack the fortitude - or the power - to sweep clean the heretics and recidivists in your midst. We alfar, as Children of Melek, have no such hesitations. Betrayers of Melek's Will will not be brooked in any way, shape, or form. And so we purge them, and in doing so become ever-stronger for it. Wounds must be cauterized.

But oh, you know all about fire, don't you, darling devotee of Morgaine? How to huddle around it with the encroachment of night; how to toss petty rabble onto the pyre while cheerfully neglecting the real terrors in the world.

I must say, you Mercians are so deliciously...corrupt. You'll probably raze half of Sanguine for us before we ever reach its outskirts. The fact that you cannot expunge a pathetic factionalist cult, based upon the worship of a thoroughly contemptible and frail demigod, speaks of your weakness and division. Learn how to perform surgery before you speak to us of our internal affairs, good priest; you will see that we cut out the heart of rot while you fools simply sop up the pus that gushes forth, neglecting, as always, the heart of the matter.

The finest part, however, is that you fine souls do know what the disease is; for one reason or another, you simply tend to its symptoms. Is it because you lack the skill to attack the disease itself? Or perhaps it is because the lingering decay gives you some sweet purpose, and to scour it clean like a proper surgeon would mean no more coins in your straining purses? Perhaps you have brushed too close to Malaut's devotees for too long...

Ah well, it is of no matter. There is a certain satisfaction in arguing with a man and seeing only a corpse the entire time. The sun always sets, noble servant of a fornicating, backstabbing "goddess". Melek, in His glorious might and wisdom, shall have his way, and when every last one of you sundrinking wretches hangs from trees and wooden posts, bloodless and broken, a new dawn - our dawn - shall rise.

[Rane]

Like a snake Shimmergloom has shed new skin, we have gotten rid of the old flawed skin and have a new improved skin and leadership. We have found allies and friends where our old leader told us we had none, we have finally found the purpose that was long denied to us. You puny humans can't talk to us about castration when all you do is scuabble amongst eachother and all the while trying to fill your purse some more "in the name of Morgaine".

Shimmergloom is no ones lickspittle we are our own masters, all we have done is found likeminded alfars that has lent their support and friendship when we were in need after the grand betrayal.
You sundrinkers will see our might in full when we emerge from beneth you when sitting at your dining table thinking you're safe from the aproaching darkness. Maybe seeing your loved ones die in front of you will teach you a lesson when insulting your betters. Run with the sun and you might just be able to live for a day or two.

[Maegras Caranuial]

Human, your speaking of Shimmergloom's internal affairs as of your own sounds almost as half-witted as your drivelling about the so-called 'Holy Church', which seems to be nothing more than a facade for your vain, little enterprises of greed and power. Mark that I am not denouncing your lust for supremacy - I am merely pointing out your pitiable mendacity.

With craving should come ability, and you lack it. You are weak and powerless, left alone and forsaken by your idols. You are terrified. Ready yourselves, your nonexistent deities will not protect you once Melek comes forth to lead his children to battle.

Until that day, go back to prancing about with your tree-hugging friends and the ever-soused midgets.

[Phooey]

All hail Melek, who shall lead our illustrious race to victory over the day walkers!

[Bensidhe]

...And what of us Nightstalkers ? We, who are not men but not animals either remember your last attempts to enter the world of "sundrinkers"...at night . We ripped your armies to pieces when they tried to attack our villages . Your poisons were somewhat successful ,your magiks impressive, but as far as actual combat you were no match and we burned hundreds of your kin on Pyres for days on end . To this day nothing grows on that ground due to the foulness you have become ...so what of us , the Nightstalkers . You have overlooked the Orks of DoomFire , and the Dwarves of Clan Anvil too ...so many that would love to sink their weapons into your dark carcasses . Do not seek out the Mahrim for trouble , that is the kind of trouble that will lead to your destruction . Walk away dark ones, walk away ...

[Nafelos]

What god is a god that hides in the gloom of a cave? No, I do not fear you or your god outcast. You see, I bore witness to your war on my people seven millenia ago. And while our leaders clustered into small towns, seeking shelter from the onslaught...I watched. I studied your organization, your tactics. I, and those like me are ready for you. My kin and many of the Elflords in Charybdis still seek only to protect their walled assets, many strategies devised by their generals are defensive and ultimately doomed to failure. It is up to us to put those who would threaten our race in their place. We are the refusers, we refuse to see lesser races claim more and more of our land for their own. We refuse to be threatened by little bat eared cowards who hide in caves. We refuse to let Mirendil be corrupted by false democracy. Be ready to meet our legions on the field Alfar, for we are coming...

Gurth Gothrim Avari!!!
"Death to the enemies of the refusers!!!"

[Teth]

...And what of us Nightstalkers ? We, who are not men but not animals either remember your last attempts to enter the world of "sundrinkers"...at night . We ripped your armies to pieces when they tried to attack our villages . Your poisons were somewhat successful ,your magiks impressive, but as far as actual combat you were no match and we burned hundreds of your kin on Pyres for days on end . To this day nothing grows on that ground due to the foulness you have become ...so what of us , the Nightstalkers . You have overlooked the Orks of DoomFire , and the Dwarves of Clan Anvil too ...so many that would love to sink their weapons into your dark carcasses . Do not seek out the Mahrim for trouble , that is the kind of trouble that will lead to your destruction . Walk away dark ones, walk away ...
You seem to be assuming that us alfar acknowledge the mahirim as intelligent and conscious creatures. How droll! They are a strange mistake of nature - a quaint curiosity! - and nothing more. When speaking of sentient races, one does not bother to speak of wild animals and unthinking beasts.

As for the frothing mirdain...hah. Hah. Oho! A mirdain that thinks they can take the fight to Nagast! You'd do well to remember the fate of Ilyanna, whelp. Stare down this cold truth once you're done - the time of the mirdain has come and gone. It's just a matter of time until the rot finally causes the shambling corpse to collapse under its own weight. The bureaucracy is massive, the leaders inept, and the only individuals with any spine or fire amongst your numbers have all gone savage and crippled themselves thereby.

If us alfar believed in mercy, we'd have put you out of your misery long ago. Much more satisfying to see the lot of you writhe in the most exquisite self-inflicted agonies, though...ah, how sweetly you suffer from the cancer in your bones, Charybdis. That suffering amuses us, and so we allow it to continue. Isn't that a delicious fate, mirdain? You exist purely because your existence is a source of entertainment for us.

[kehmesis]

Melek, our blessed Father and Lord, is indeed with us, and favours us mightily. He is a divinity of overawing might; what other god dwells on Agon amongst their adoring subjects? None other! Melek alone loves His children; all other pale, anemic powers view their supplicants as mere pawns and tools. Melek hears our fervent prayers, and Melek hears our voices. He is with us, in both spirit and flesh, and as such we cannot fail.

How the sundrinkers shall cower when the might of Nagast is unleashed in its full resplendency, with banners enough to drown out the hateful light and warriors enough to turn every farmland, every lake, every river, dark red with the blood of the heretics! Melek has foreseen a world painted crimson with the blood of the enemies of Nagast, and it pleases him! And what kind of children would we be if we did not seek to please our benevolent Father?

Sanguine shall be razed to the ground; its temples laughingly desecrated and replaced with monuments comprised entirely of the butchered remains of Morgaine's pathetic priesthood. Chardybis' legendary lakes will be choked with the bodies of the dead, and the water will be as black as night with rot. Ymir's Tear shall be a fateful name indeed; the dwarves will have boundless reasons to weep bitter tears of sorrow. The "city" of Flaming Skull? Pschah! It shall have to burn if we are ever to expunge the stench; its population is fit only for enslavement and being worked to the bone. The mahirim are unworthy of mention, for one does not bother with unthinking animals.

The time of the sundrinkers is not long to remain, my brethren: Melek has declared it so. Our power is waxing; our star is ever-ascendant. We but need His final word, His clarion call to holy war, and we shall conquer every corner Agon in the name of Lord Melek! Like Sithra Ahra itself, we shall cut through all opposition without pause!

Melek has but to ask it of us, and we, His faithful children, shall make it so! Hail to our almighty Lord and his eternal reign over us!

Aww, I cried! So beautiful!

[Trent Fireblood]

Wretched mud-rats, Melechai is not your "blessed Father", although you may see him as "Lord", he is Kinslayer, Son of Perdition. Melechai alone warped his kin, kidnapping the subjects of the heros and molding them to evil. Melechai is the Betrayer, even unto his own mother, Myrthai, his giver of life. Is your kinship to him closer than that of Myrthai? You are decieved. For soon, you too shall come to know betrayal when Melechai abandons Nagast when the hoardes of Agon raise thier own banners of war.

So blow your trumpets, and the armies of men and elves shall blow thiers louder. Raise your dark banners and we shall raise ours higher. Bring the Ilshard and it shall be met by Lightbringer! Raise forth the sithras and they shall be met by Ildhammer and Sunbow.

Look in the direction of Mercia or that of beloved Mirendil, and have your eyesight plucked by arrows of Sunbow. So too shall we aid the Dwarves of Dvergheim.

As for the Church of Morgaine then we the common and good men of Agon keep an eye on things (Although some of us have no affinity towards the Lady). Malaut's followers and Melekite agents tend to turn up dead in suspicious circumstances every so often and sometimes in public displays of punishment (as was the case with a certain Melekite agent quite high up in the Church order).

The Brotherhood will be watching. If Merrin's religious fanatics don't tear your grey hides to shreads then you can be sure that the Fireblood Brotherhood won't stand idly by whilst your mud-rats pollute the grounds of Sanguine. The Duke of Wessex is an acquaintance of mine and if Wessex is at all involved you can be sure that the Brotherhood will take part in any altercations.

As for Mirendil, then a new era is born. It is true that Ilyanna made mistakes which led to her demise but times have changed and many new Mirdain clans are born. Rest assured that the Mirdain no longer search for thier lost brethren but for the blood vile Melechai himself. Suffice to say the Mirendil are not alone.

It is known that the Fireblood has it's differences with the Clans of the Moon but i'm sure Bensidhe and his Ork allies will pay a little trip to Shoal whilst you and the other mud-rats make your way to Mercia. And the Dwarves always like a good brawl, so they won't be to far away.

All in all, it looks like there's going to be genocide of Melechai-spawn.

[Nafelos]

You would call me whelp? I watched for seven thousand years as the imbeciles in my own land drove us to isolationism. I defended the Forest "Republic" for seven millenia against savage Ciel Fey, orks, and even your ugly kin. I am in no way young, cave dweller. While you presumptions about my age are false, those you made about the bureaucracy are true. However, steps are being taken to...correct this problem *grins wickedly*.

You enjoy watching our kingdom suffer? Sounds like ill hidden cowardice to me. You must visit Mirendil sometime Alfar, so that I may relieve you of your bat eared head!

[The Disciple]

Imbeciles. Melek is merely a pawn in the grand spect of things. Think... Do you really think She would allow peace to continue due to Her own tragic surmise. No, I am not talking of the unpretentious morgaine, not even worthy of Capitalization. The Designer I am preaching of. Just mentioning Her Divinity in the presence of all of you is pure blasphemy. Yet, I will take this sin upon my own soul in order to spread thy word. Our Goddess, nameless only for the reason that our vile mouths are unworthy to utter her name, breathed life onto this once upon a time icecube, shaping it into what is known as Agon, what is your home! She receives no praise or worship for Her doings. And the very appreciation She receives is the void.. by the very gods She created. She unleashed chaos and sin as punishment. However, Her time of reckoning is still to come for Her Wrath is unavoidable. Under Her Banners, the Church of the True Goddess spreads thy word.

[Stonegrim]

How bout ye all get yer noggins bashed, eh? No puny, pointy eared nightwalker can take on a dwarf! Now dat`s a fact. Stay away from oor lands, and mebbe we`ll let ye live, nightrats.