The monks of Turstarkuri observed the rocky valleys below their mountain monastery as mass invaders march into the lower kingdoms. Ascetic and stubborn, in their remote monastic eyrie they remained detached from ordinary strife, wrapped in meditation that studied no gods or elements of magic. Then the Legion of the Dead God entered their world, crusaders with a sinister mandate to replace all local worship with their Unliving Lord’s venomous nihilosophy. From a land that had known nothing but angst, battle, and vengeance for a thousand years, they tore the souls and bones of vast number of fallen legions and hurled them against Turstarkuri. The monastery barely stood for a fortnight against the attack, and the few monks who attempted to surface from their meditations considered the invaders were but evil spirit revelations sent to divert them from meditation. They depart this life from where they sat on their silken cushions.