He Who Was Once Dunamis watches. Even now, the Outer Reaches of the multiverse burn with His Righteous flame, peeling the slick filth of Chaos away from the myriad worlds which have fallen ill with corruption from Mad God's tampering.

Creation brims with untapped potential, limitless Growth abundant within her nourishing embrace. The realm thrives, and though there are those who would seek to impose their wills and desires upon those within it, the servants of Good stand ready to thwart those who would work against her, and hinder the birth of potential anew.

The Mad God ordains to bring His woeful will upon Creation's lush shores, to wash us all away into the Void's embrace, ended utterly and completely, forever. But as the tide of the wine-dark Sea breaks upon Shornwall's ramparts, so too shall the forces of Chaos stand opposed before the might of the children of Good and know futility, for never shall Chaos' hunger for Creation's flesh be replete, and her demise ascertained.

All will know Paradise. None are beyond redemption. The corruption that plagues this world will be expurgated by the grace of the Light, and the cleansing flames of Righteousness.

Such is the irrefutable Truth, and it shall never be defied.

So mote it be.

In service,

Daeir Wintermourne
Herald of Redemption

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Aeguary, in the year 671 AF.