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Not a day passes when my thoughts do not dwell upon my beloved brothers and sisters in arms. Tormented in Coldharbour, they suffer under the terms of a deal struck by Styriche, the infinite fool. After eons of calculation, I will soon deliver them from the wretched pit. Would that I could save them all at once. But my needs require that I first deliver the bridgehead. Only then will the Gray Host's return be assured. They are my body, my strength. The limbs and organs of my strategy to not only set my siblings free, but deliver unto them their just reward.
These are my exarchs!
Ezze of the Creeping Dusk, my crown, my glory, our first and greatest.
Tzinghalis, my brain, ever turning, puzzling out the riddles of our restoration.
Gazes-Red, my right eye, staring longingly at past wrongs.
Serevur Rouillac, my left eye, looking proudly to the future.
Braxhard, my tongue, whispering my truths to the outside world.
Ulfra Redclaw, my backbone, standing tall against all misfortune.
Kraglen, my right hand, braced to ward away my foes.
Uls Grimlantern, my left hand, raised to wreak terrible and swift justice.
Vem the Dirge, my breath, bringing life to every part of me.
Grand Nezbi, my sinew, knitting together all my beloved.
Caia Avernico Sanctus, my bones, the bedrock of my strength.
Ritia Longstep, my stride, bringing me ever closer to my aim.
These twelve will be the first restored, the leaders of our new and resurrected Gray Host. But there is one more, one whose betrayal runs so deep that my hand shakes even at the thought of writing his name. Once I loved him as the greatest of my compatriots. Now, I feel only hatred. I will seek him, my thirteenth sibling, not for freedom—but for reckoning.
He is my heart, broken in grief and beyond repair.