FOR THE SANCTITY OF STEEL

[Hephaestus 1317]

Spoiler

 

 

______________________________________________

 

FOR THE SANCTITY OF STEEL

 

______________________________________________

 

The dispatch of dead-men.

 

Click-clack-click… — floats of skeleton-men and bug-bogeymen march from and between highways and holdfasts, parading through boulevards and barricades in lands east through west. The couriers peered out from dung-dark pits in the sides of their skulls, from within whom they cast long, foreboding stares over townsfolk and tribesmen, boney facial-composition falling grave in the presence of taxpayers and burghers. Saturated by soot and other wretched magicks, doubtless, each of the thousand-and-some hauled reams of paper and pamphlet, distributing the memos into the hands of every man, woman, and no-good. Not one of which, by the way, stunk of anything less than manure, piss, and booziness.

 

And, when all was done, the profusion of living-dead men sunk back into the bones of the earth, plunging earthward wherefrom they came. They all read as follows, save for inconsistencies in spelling and egregious handwriting:

 

______________________________________________

 

FOR THE SANCTITY OF STEEL

 

FROM THE DESK OF THE EMISSARY OF THE PROPHET IN RED,

Recorded on Hexicanum stationary, Rh’thoraen pine paper:

 

Let the metalworkers, weaponsmiths, and armourers of the realm be addressed hereinafter. This address is written and overseen on behalf of the Prophet in Red, Adunakhor-from-Adria:

 

For those who hold stock in the surety of steel, the sanctitude of iron, allow me to introduce myself. I am Pharzankhor-from-Petra, Champion of the Abyss, Bellkeeper of Rock Tower, Keeper of the Crypt-in-Kraija, the Grand Prince of the Raevir (yes, those Raevir). I have a home, but do not sleep. A heart which does not beat. I can take his or her home and build another, and love to play games with my many brothers. I can promise many silks and many golds, and enviable wardrobes. Grant premium w**res, and cloaks from boars. Most of all, I bid to you, metalworkers and swordsmiths, power. And, better yet, championship over the elements: over death.

 

For fourteen days and fourteen nights, I will take from coast-to-coast. If you can bend steel into many fantastic fashions, and wring and wrench bronze, and heat and treat iron, then prove your finesse over those other, battered weaponsmiths which you call brothers.

 

Repute yourself, or otherwise become swept away by the current, and lose all trace of importance.

 

Be advised that I am improbably paranoid of birds. A critter which is able to track and identify individuals from many miles abreast? Something is amiss. Take any necessary measures to speak with me first-hand. I am partial to the drink.

 

In witness hereof, I set my seal,

HIS GOOD GRACE, Pharzankhor-from-Petra,

Champion of the Abyss, Prince of Petra Turris, Grand Prince of the Raevir, Apprentice of Adunkahor, Bellkeeper of Rock Tower, Keeper of the Crypt-in-Kraija.

 

______________________________________________

 

Spoiler

Reach me at Hephaestus#8435 on Discord to arrange roleplay. I will not accept birds.

 

[Melpomenne 1561]

 

Pharzana the Karaltoz, the Barrowess of Bones, awaits the return of the All-Highest Evilness Himself.