Documants from King Briac of the Su�rehk
There are grave days ahead of us. Punishment in the hands of our gods have come down to us from the heavens. Demons walk our lands and take our children away from us. As the King of my people, there is little I can do. The storms have always come and gone, but we have taken it as an omen, a test of our endurance. This is unlike any test, and I fear there will be little we can do to survive it.
The demons arrived in a craft I have never seen before. The younger boys have claimed to see such a sight before, though I had not taken heed of their words. Yet they had spoken of men covered head to toe in silver plates. These demons are no men.
They have not returned to our city for days. Only now and then do we see the large red one fly far above us for reasons we cannot know. Each of us has been forced to wear a band around our wrists. I know not the purpose of this ornament, but every last man, woman and child must have one. I can only fear.
The days grow long, and the skies are much too clear and bright for our eyes. We can only pray for the shade to return, for the gods to forgive us. There is noting more we can hope for.
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