And so the feuding nations once again prepare for war . . .

As the last of the Cursed Bones are offered up in tribute, the gods bestow upon the leaders of each nation a blessing.

“Go forth,” issues Akara with a sneer as the final rites are spoken and power transfers from her to her dear Karus children. “Destroy all that which El Morad has wrought. Salt their fields and burn their farms; sack their homes and rend their stores. Leave no village untouched, leave no city standing. Let all know that the frontierlands belong to Karus!”

“You have your leaders, my children. Xagok, the Legendary King. Xutija, the Princess. Azarah, the Chieftain. Honor your mother goddess with the blood of the El Morad dogs.”


So too decrees Ronark in his plea to Logos. “Our wayward cousins must be dealt a crushing blow,” he says, his eyes heavy with foreboding, his speech leaden. “Meet them as they come and give them no quarter. Let every able man and woman take arms and stand in face of annihilation. We shall not allow these injustices to persist, and the hammer of El Morad shall come down firmly upon the Karus nation!”

“Though my blood boils with anger and patriotism, I fear I am too weak to be of any good. The good King Erliane shall take my place in the charge, along with Commander Gavinka, and Arwaine, the Chieftain. Honor guide your actions, and may victory come swiftly.”

With the favor of the gods now secured, the buildup intensifies in both nations. But is either side yet ready to face the battles that lie ahead? Or is another trial in store . . .