Daeir walks over to an armoured ebon-scaled wyvern and carefully takes the corpse of a Brighthold watchman into his arms,
sitting limply against his armour.

You say in Targossian in a solemn voice, "All of us are called to serve Good however we may."

You say in Targossian in a solemn voice, "For some, the Endbringer's blessing returns us from the precipice of death for as long as His
mercy is sustained. Death is not eternal - not for us."

You say in Targossian in a solemn voice, "This blessing is not extended to all. For every score of us that bears such a thing, dozens more
do not."

You say in Targossian in a solemn voice, "And yet, they serve with no less passion and fervor than the rest of us."

Daeir looks down at the corpse of a Brighthold watchman in his arms, the battered body of the guardsman still bleeding
slightly in places.

You say quietly in Targossian in a solemn voice, "This man is but one of seven who perished this day."

You say in Targossian in a solemn voice, "The rest of his peers spirited away by the foul dogs of the Bastion, for purpose unknown."

Daeir pauses for a considerable time, his head lowered.

You say in Targossian in a solemn voice, "Let us honor their sacrifice with a brief moment of silence."

Halos bows his head humbly.
Greys lowers his head respectfully.
Morthif kneels in silent prayer.

[A gentle zephyr ripples silently across the waters of the Silverveil, carrying with it faint scents of flowers and young acacia.]

An armoured ebon-scaled wyvern sidles alongside Daeir, walking slowly with him as he ambles towards the riverside.

Turning her head to the heavens, an armoured ebon-scaled wyvern takes a huge, noisy breath, before extending her maw in an utterly ear-
splitting roar that reverberates out across the city, ending only moments later in a shrill keening.

You yell, "Guardsmen, we salute you."

You yell, "We honor your Sacrifice for Creation, and will see that your names are not lost in the passage of time."

You yell, "For the one whom remains, we commit you to the embrace of the Silverveil."

You say to Halos in Targossian in a solemn voice, "Herald, do you have anything you wish to say?"

Halos stirs from his place by the riverbank, nodding gravely.

Halos Vorondil says, "We've all expectations placed upon us. All a small part to play in the long-lasting symphony of Good."

Halos Vorondil says, "Life in the Dawnspear can be difficult but rewarding. Day by day, we make our prayers, giving thanks to the Bloodsworn
who made this place and in whom we invest our trust."

Halos shifts his weight, looking down the river towards the strengthening currents near the falls.

Halos Vorondil says, "I should apologise, publically to you. I could not go back to what I was doing, insouciant, without acknowledging the
deeds of today."

Halos Vorondil says, "Some are still confused as to how and why they occured."

Halos Vorondil says, "The dogs of Ashtan came this city suddenly and without warning. The guard convened, but I remained inattentive in my
House library. The warlord Jhui Ta'sa telepathically stripped my defences, and finally forced my to brazier him onto the Harbinger Estate."

Halos Vorondil says, "By slackening my vigilance, I have caused suffering, let you down, and embarrassed my sweet Lord and bright Lady. For
any of the faithful, particularly a person in a position of responsibility, a certain mindfulness of our place in the world is expected.
This cannot be overstated."

Halos Vorondil says, "When enemies enter the sacred bounds of this city, one must always be alert and prepared to to immediately assemble at
a moment's notice."

Daeir lowers his head quietly, adjusting the corpse of a Brighthold watchman in his arms.

Halos moves to the corpse of the guardsman, observing his face.

Halos Vorondil says softly, "You responded valiantly to the enemy intrusion despite my failure."

Halos Vorondil says resolutely, "Your sacrifice will not be forgotten."

Nodding, Halos draws his veil across his dark face and withdraws to the riverbank.

Sir Morthif Aristata, Caefir Proselyte says, "Only when all impurities are purged from Creation will paradise be made manifest and the
Caefir's work complete. No price is too high to pay to bring this to fruition."

Sir Morthif Aristata, Caefir Proselyte says, "We all know this, and so did this guard and his companions."

Sir Morthif Aristata, Caefir Proselyte says, "It is this that puts the Dawnspear above all else."

You say in Targossian in a solemn voice, "So too, are the Righteous willing to be consumed in course of their task."

Bowing his head in silent prayer to Lord Deucalion, Daeir kneels before the riverbank, carefully lowering the corpse of a Brighthold watchman into the Silverveil's embrace. With a single hushed word, Daeir's body erupts into nacarat-tinged flame. He slowly closes the guardman's clouded eyes one final time, before channeling the torrid aura surrounding him into the body, setting it alight instantly.

Zujin stares mournfully at the world around him, a single tear running down his cheek.

As Daeir begins to sing a solemn dirge, an armoured ebon-scaled wyvern carefully nudges the burning body into the grasp of the Silverveil
proper.

Sir Morthif Aristata, Caefir Proselyte says, "May all be cleansed in the Righteous Fire."

You say in Targossian in a solemn voice, "So mote it be."