Ta'Samsca'Rial

The cloud clung low to the snakehills this evening.

Samsca raged in the deeper places and caverns. The foolish Vesperii were placing everything in doubt. Nearly a decade’s work was being undone through simple ineptitude. The Yewish had come to Minoc. This was bad enough. It would be most beneficial if the loyalists were ever kept away from the place. It would be even better if all the masses and their yammering voices and inquisitive minds were kept away. But the Yewish had come with their swords and shields. The Vesperii under their new Baron were vanquished in totality. Alas for those who are of a new generation? Alas for Samsca who had seen the process over and over, again and again from the start until now and to be endlessly repeated. To be unknown is to be powerless. A year ago a call for command would have been obeyed. Not so these days. Who listens?

The Vesperian strategy was noticeable by its lack. The Yewish were not so much better but they possessed a certain street fighting still, perhaps some vestigial claim kept alive in their purging of the rebels within their lands. Others had come. Samsca had seen them. Deviants who were as yet unknown but serving with the great foe. They would be found and their bones would feed the earth. Yew. Was there any state more abominable? Samsca suspected there was not. The Yewish leaders were feral. They kept their teeth sharp by feasting upon men. Such viciousness was dangerous to those who planned. For those who waited and for those who saved. Fortune had been kind. They had not found what they should have been searching for. They had said they were searching for slaves. The idea was ridiculous. There were no slaves in West Vesper. There were no slaves in Minoc. Slave labour was inefficient. Men do not value their lives. Women do not possess the necessary strength. What they should have found was the great tunnels and the latest generation of fungi. Fortunately for mortals they mocked the Mushrooms. They scorn that which they do not know. The Vesperians know nothing but their ridiculous green ostard. The Yewish know nothing but the torch. These children were always straying closer. A third extinction would be unacceptable. The Vesperii would not be permitted to fail. The Yewish and their minions would not succeed. If the tools of the south had been rendered weak and ancient, there were fresh tools to be raised. The blood quickens as the fires grow high. Some desire to shed the blood of men. Some desire merely to test their own capabilities. Regardless they would arrive and they would fall by the score.

Knowledge. It has infinite power if you possess it in its entirety. The mushrooms would find it. They had for too long been idle. An appetite existed. Satisfaction beckoned. Percy whispered. The time for failure was not yet.

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