The Fall of the Temple of Ati

While the Third Son of Ohlsana stood in chains beneath Bloodloch’s banners, Runecarver Rhydderch of Duiran turned his attention to the Temple of Ati, long a plague staining the Western Itzatl. From the midst of so much horror, reasoned the Runecarver, had come an opportunity: to bring the foul temple, a blight upon the landscape, back into the embrace of nature.

Over the weeks that followed, the Runecarver instructed the Council to gather immense amounts of kai energy in order to empower the Sentaari. Utilising witching rods obtained from Srahda, the Seer, Duiran came together in force for this endeavour, with Illikaal, Ixmi, and Ase acquiring the most. As the air in the Temple fizzed and hummed with so much of the energy infusing it, Visage Aisling set to work, wielding the Sentaari’s signature might to enact a grand banishment. The result was soon evident: much of the excess shadow was driven into the void, excised from both the Temple and the Prime.

Restless ancestral memories were the next problem to solve, arising in great numbers. Invariably Rajamalan in origin, most bore painful memories of Ati and the horrors plaguing nearby Saluria from the distant past. So it was that the Sentinels – well trained experts in working with ancestral spirits – sought to calm these restless vestiges and grant them a peace they had been denied for so long. Ulo and Sekeres worked with determined resolve, and the state of calm was achieved.

The Priest of Ati, enraged by the work being done by Duiran, attempted to mount a resistance, but Death stood in its way. Executioner Ulo, wielding the Underking’s greatsword known as Terminus and supported by members of the Council, wrenched free the profane acolyte’s soul, setting free the remaining denizens of the Temple. In Dachvrel’s wake, the Shamans were able to begin work of their own.

From the compost heap of Brother Belmund, Rhydderch drew forth a prickly spore of reclamation and planted it deep within the Temple grounds. The Runecarver instructed the Praadi to sing to the spores and to water it in copious volumes of blood. Some months passed with Valorie and Sibatti among others dutifully tending to the spores which had begun spreading throughout the area and sprouting strong vines.

At last, when every corner of the temple was overrun with the sprawling mass of tangled vines and budding spores, its foundations began to falter. A deep rustling arose from the heart of the Western Itzatl and the foliage pressed on, determine and resolute to bring ruin to that which had brought so much ruin of its own. Rock and stone crumbled beneath the floral embrace and finally reached a critical mass, the entire temple collapsing in on itself, reclaimed for nature.

Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 11th of Midsummer, in the year 506 MA.
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