ᴵ ᵐᵉᵗ ᵃⁿ ᵃᵖᵒˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵖʳⁱᵉˢᵗ. ᴮᵉᵗʳᵃʸᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵘᵖᵉʳⁱᵒʳˢ. ᴴʸᵖᵒᶜʳⁱᵗᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒᵒˡˢ, ʰᵉ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ. ᴬⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ˢᵒ ᶜᵘʳˢᵉᵈ, ⁱᵗ ᵇᵘʳⁿᵗ ᵐʸ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ⁱᵗ. ᴵ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵐᵉˡˡ ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉ.ᵀʰᵉ ᵁⁿʰᵒˡʸ ᴮᵒᵒᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴺᵉᵗʰᵉʳʷᵒʳˡᵈ⁻ᴱⁿᶻᵒ

From the 9th Malediction, 3rd Curse:

Lo, it was in those days before time itself That Alteus composed his wretched song of Creation And from it fell many notes, who had no place in his music And they became all manner of beings

And when they fell into the pit of darkness The One who preached mercy, Turned his cold heart away For in the eyes of Alteus, these Were not his children.

And thus they were welcomed into the arms of the Absolute Some he placed into the land of Caustia South of the Eternal Pustule And there these creatures lived in peace And lo, the land of fire belched forth a World-Troll A beast so large it blocked out the sun The World-Troll was blind, but his ears were keen And thus when he heard the tiny creatures He spaketh in thundering Troll speech: I will eat anything I can hear!

And indeed, he did not lie For where the creatures chattered or moved, the World-Troll snatched them up And their blood ran from his chops

It was then they became Whisperers For their every moment was silence They crept here and there And deception became survival

Thus it came to pass that the Absolute heard of This indignity being visited upon his Children And he gave unto them axes And said unto them:Go forth. Make mischief and do murder.

The Children rejoiced in their weapons The axe-blades were fit to their handssharp as razors Brutal cleavers of meat And they hatched a devious plan

Virulus, the most clever of their kind Collected the nests of many Scorch-Hornets With searing wounds to his own skin And brought them to Caustia

He quietly taught his companions (It was he who taught them to ingest the monsters and BREATHE that fire on their enemies)

Then, the Whisperers spread out across the land And they threw the hornet hives And wherever the hives landed, the World-Troll Snatched them up and scarfed them down

Soon his stomach was filled with buzzing angry bees Who stung every inch of his insides And he howled in pain And so cacophonous was his caterwaul that he could not hear The Whisperers who crept up to his ankles And on quiet count of “three” They began to chop Like furious lumberjacks felling a fleshy tree They hacked at his shins Bone splintered, blood spouted But still they hacked until he fell And they fell on him With their axes Until the World-Troll was no more

Thereafter, the lands of Caustia seemed quiet They were in fact ruled By those cunning and agile butchers known as

The Whisperers