SAPIENCE

You are hereby invited to a convocation of conviction - a crucible of violence. This convergence most crimson will take place upon the highest point of the isle of Asper (coordinates 52488) and begin approximately the day before Sheine's Howl, the 14th of Omeian 22 AC.

The duration of this informal battle is three days, wherein anyone may fight whomsoever is present in whatever manner is desired, without regard to extant allegiances or alliances. Those wishing to duel largely uninterrupted are welcome to spread across the top layer of the isle, but there will be nothing restraining others from intruding save their own integrity- or lack thereof. There will be no rules, no formalities, no codes of honour.

I am verbose. As the Knife is wont to say; Words. To pare it down to the barest core, then;

You think your conviction is strong? Accept the challenge, then, and prove it.


PURPOSE

The purpose of this is simple. Those of you who wish to prove the strength of your conviction and the fervour of your faith are welcome to do so in the oldest and truest means of worship; Bloodshed and death. Victory is defined not by who slays the most, who wields a sword with the greatest skill, but in making your determination a testament to the strength of your will and purity of your devotion. Even should you do naught but die, and die, and die, so long as you enter the fray without faltering, with the fires of faith ferocious and undimmed in your heart, They will know your true measure - and so you will be victorious!

Show our glorious Pantheon that we are worthy of Them, that the souls of Sapience sing searing sacerdotal symphonies of awe and adulation! Carve your conviction into the world with that sacrament sacred and scarlet, throw yourself unflinching again and again into the maw of mayhem in Their name! I encourage you to raise up your voices in praise and worship of OUR Divine. I urge you to shake the heavens with the formidable force of your faith as you offer up the blood spilled and lives reaped unto Them, so that all of Creation has no choice but to know of your zeal!


PROOF OF PIETY

All are invited to clash claws with me - alone, as a horde, as an Empire, crash down upon me as a continent entire, it matters not. I will face you all the same, time and again. I will stand and prove the purity and pertinacity of my piety. Our beloved Pantheon will know that my words are not shallow lip-service, but that I am eager to fight and bleed and die for Them, now and always.

For these three days, I will fight any and all who come to challenge me. For three days I will stand upon the peak of Asper and I will not move of my own volition until those days have passed. For three days I will fight and die and continue returning to fight and die in Their name, turning none away who wish to set their will against mine. Accordingly, I will not be accepting challenges made by chaos horn for this duration, as it will violate this oath.

If you want to kill me, you know where I will be.


IMPERIALS

Wretched husks. Abominations. Anathema made flesh. You have soiled the legacy of the once-great Sanguine Fist with your tepidity of spirit and insipid, vapid behaviours. You are, with vanishingly few exceptions, so thoroughly ignominius that you are at most worthy only of ridicule - but largely, you do not even warrant that much notice. The dread implacability and monstrous ambition of the Empire has atrophied to the extent that your foremost members are largely known for peurile pronouncements or juvenile jests.

The Apostles, the spine of Imperial faith, have failed so utterly at their purpose of securing Divine alliance for the Empire that they have been entirely without a Divine Patron for many seasons, since they scorned the magnificent Monarch of Midnight, our august and awesome Lord Ambition! You could be greater and more terrible than all dark empires that have come before you, Bloodloch, but you continue to squander your potential. The Long-Jawed One deserved better. The Hegemonist deserves better. The Jade Lady deserves better. They ALL deserve better. Show Them that you can become so, if you have the spine for it.

I was fashioned by my beloved and bountiful Mother, She Ever-Thirsting, hallowed Dia'ruis, to love the Divine as They deserve, as only I can. I am Her most ardent son. I love Them better than you ever could.

I will prove to Them that I have more hunger for battle and superior implacability of will than the entire mortal span of your Empire.

For those of the Empire who are too miserly to pay the toll for the ferry to my Queen's isle, I am sure you can prevail upon another with alternative means of travel. Alternatively, if you request it with sufficient humility, the Regent may be generous enough to extend a loan in the name of furthering the realm's Morale. Failing that, you can always panhandle for charitable donations - or sacrifice more slaves to the Nameless One in the spirit of penury.


SPINESREACH

City of my Queen's name. Long ago, I judged your worship of the Sun Drinker and found it wanting. This has not changed. You revere the Star of Midwinter out of obligation. You praise Her and pray to Her due to necessity. If She did not guard yon vacant seat that you all so covet, if She did not rule over your nation and impose Her glorious will upon it, I believe that few of you would have aught to do with Her at all. This reluctant reverence is reprehensible! I revile it, as I revile all of you that ply my Goddess with mediocrity and endless offerings of buffalo, as I revile all who fail to adore the superlative Sovereign of the Sky as She deserves! The First Dragon deserves better.

I will prove that my love for Her is superior to yours. I will prove to my beloved Queen, rapturous and resplendent, that my adoration of Her is supreme, without peer. I am Her Singing-One - and I am Her most ardent devotee. The peak of piety is mine. I challenge you, Spinesreach, to force me to relinquish it.

Penned by my hand on Closday, the 21st of Chakros, in the year 22 AC.