War Songs and Severed Heads
-
Word spreads swiftly through Arabel and its outlying holds: the Justiciars, those war-bound zealots in service to the gods of law and battle, have been seen in growing numbers rallying beneath Tempus' crimson banners. Most notably, those loyal to the Church of the Lord of Battles have taken up arms en masse, marching northward toward the Storm Horn Mountains to bring iron and fury to the Mountain Orcs.
Victorious warbands return bloodied, their armor cracked and their cloaks torn, singing hoarse victory chants through split lips and broken teeth. Yet for every band that returns, there are those that do not. The costs mount. So too does the fury. Many wonder, without outside influence, just how much attrition the Tempans can endure.
The Temple of Tempus, never a quiet place of contemplation, now roars with the sounds of sparring, sermons shouted like warcries, and the steady rhythm of hammer against shield. Even so, its exterior has taken on a new, savage purpose. It has become a grotesque monument to violence and victory--orcish heads, still fresh with the stink of the wilds, are nailed to pikes and pillars. Other monstrous trophies hang beside them, each a warning to Tempus’ enemies and a call to arms for his faithful.
Alongside these grisly sights, the messaging of Tempan preachers has grown sharper--less about glory, more about survival through strength. Endurance is now exalted as the highest virtue. Weakness? A new kind of heresy. Some whisper that those found lacking in grit or resolve may soon find themselves unwelcome among the faithful.
"Iron does not weep," one preacher bellows atop a mound of bones. "And neither shall we. Do not bend. Do not break."
