User blog:Saint Altime/Precursor to the Kingdom of Cinder

Idle talk from those in the marketplace of Ardougne, capital of the Glorious Empire, was rarely of any important; merchants spoke of their wares, beggars of their desire for those wares, and guards of intense boredom. Today, however, marked a special occasion; the first anniversary of the crowning of Emperor Wrath to the new Empire of Kandarin. Fitting, then that chatter occilated between the anniversary and the news from the war front; Falador had finally fallen after a prolonged siege that strangled the city of its resources for a year. The citizens of Ardougne cheered perhaps half out of celebration and half of fear; the fall of the Vekons brought with it a swift wave of silencing of dissenters.

Indeed, within a month a gnawing fear gripped the city and its twin Yanille that those critical of the now-emperor's conquest were taken in the depths of the night and never heard nor found thereafter. For most though, life continued as usual, albeit it with a more militarized air to the cities. Yanille had become a mass-training camp for the soldiers needed to fuel the Ashen Emperor's mighty armies, and Ardougne a center for commerece, wealth, and arms manufacturing. The sheer powerr held in just two cities seemed to foretell the fall of Misthalin as the war raged. Misthalin of course, being the only remaining world power with any fighting chance. Although independent nations such as Karamja and various desert cities offered resistance, they did not offer much. At the moment Falador was found to have fallen, a wave of skilled pyromancers worked day and night to burn the lush bounties of Karamja and reduce the verdant island to a lifeless ash pit. All this, it seemed, left a taste of resignation in the mouths of people across Gielinor. Though perhaps the elves of Lleyta could avoid his ire, the human kingdoms seemed destined to crumble under the sheer might of the Emperor.

It was for this reason that the Emperor could be found on the sole throne in Sunfire hall. Guards in crimson red adorned the room and various advisors filled out the crowd with their presence. At his feet stood a dignitary of Saradomin, a member of his church and apparent bishop. Behind him still, the current head of the black knights. The bishop lie prostate, groveling at the red boots of the Emperor.

The ruler in question carried an annoyed countenance. Burning flames danced over his body but did not seem to bother him, as he expelled magical energy with no alarm to be found. His eyes were a cold brown and his attire an ornate set of armor that seemed to vent the aforementioned flames. He looked down upon the bishop with contempt but allowed him to speak.

"The church of Saradomin begs you to allow us to remain a sovereign entity under the umbrella of your empire. We are prepared to follow your customs to their utmost should you allow us the basic rite to practice our faith. Should you require anything of us that does not violate our code you will have it, your excellency." he stammered, privately cursing himself for his fear.

The Emperor cracked a grin, rising to his feet from the throne and grabbing the bishop by his neck, turning him about so as to take hold of him from the front and holding him aloft. He spoke to the bishop with a low, angry voice.

"That will not be necessary. With news of the fall of Falador my word has been done. My orders to the esteemed general were that should Falador offer its surrender, the first target to die would be the mouthpiece of your church, followed by the king, the commander of the white knights, all officers commanding special temple knight divisions, and then any remaining heathens such as yourself. Do you see, little runt? There is no more church. There is no more Saradomin. There is only Wrath, and you have incurred mine with your vile religion."