[WP] There is a bell tower.

...

Chorus of the Faithful: Hymn of Recent Times - From the refuge of the Tower, under protection of the light. A passage of song in the name of our lords.

Recorded by Scribe Mandas, Imprinted and imbued by Zahra the Wise, entrusted to the keep of the Holy Libraries, forever shall they stand.

Brought life and voice by the North Western-most Church of Doterra. Recorded and filed once more, by means of mana sphere.

...

The rising columns of stone and wood, sing out!

Solemn, and faithful, and pure! This is a song of metal, of resonance, of fervor!

About and beyond those longing reaches of our own creation, across the sky- as lightning scatters to the Western winds, and clouds of graying silver:

We will watch the flames emboldened in our faith. To question them is above our station.

In this place, we are but one people. In this place, we are but one light!

For he who strays, to walk upon the dark terrain of bone and steel, shall embrace the hatred which dwells there!

For those who do not leap from the walls to what lays below and beyond, those who do not take their absence from the white stone, or from the shelter of the light:

It is for their benefit alone that this tower's ballad plays.

And so we watch. And so the metal sings.

Then!

In Thunder! In Might! A beast is shadowed across the silver! Of strange wings and horrid tongues of flame. A Monstrosity not of the gods, not of the light, not of the worlds of man- it strikes the evil before it!

Again, the clashing of magics! Again the power of those beyond, but still across it all: The tones do ring! The People Pray!

The Mage of death has thrown his terrible powers, and to cinders and dust the sky is filled. The rain of metal, slag and poison all. A being tainted, ruined yet whole.

The touch of twisted souls pours upon the lands- proof of a man who strayed from the righteous halls.

For what wicked lays its violence upon our sky, few can know or say:

But in the blackened lands, upon this day- A demon strange, was slayed.

...

In times as troubling as these, when the enemies of our heritage do rise and strike their foes within sight of our nation, I take great pride in the faith that holds us against the terrors. In our unity there is a great strength. Not simply of the light, of the gods, but of our own selves, formed together under both friend and kinship.

Still, even the common folk must know: The Dark Lord stirs from the centuries of peace we've now ignorantly embraced as the truth of our lives. The world turns from days and nights, and the reports issue time and time again. Orcs and Goblins, feral wolves, and tales of strange and unfamiliar creatures slipping from rifts in the sky and earth- beasts that creep into the territories from lands unknown.

Of travelers and adventurers alike, I have heard many stories. I have learned to spot falsehood upon the faces of both man and woman alike, and now know that much of these tales are not the embellishments many might hope them to be. They are nothing but truth.

As such grows the fear, cold and real as it ever was, that our great era of peace is soon to end. I have imbued the pages, and recorded this passage from the pains of time; but I often doubt there will ever be another to reclaim my seat upon this chair in my passing. Mark my words: Those who come after myself, will hold not a pen, nor ink, nor parchment of any kind.

Instead, they will hold swords.

-Zahra the Wise