> For the complete documentation index, see [llms.txt](https://docs.empiresbattle.com/llms.txt). Markdown versions of documentation pages are available by appending `.md` to page URLs; this page is available as [Markdown](https://docs.empiresbattle.com/empires-battle-lore/from-the-treatise-ashes-to-ashes.md). # From the Treatise “Ashes to Ashes” {% hint style="info" %} **Excerpt from Chapter VII: “On the First Who Heard”**\ *Compiled by the chronicler Morridan the Gray*\ *Year 200 since the Rebirth of the World, also known as the Great Catastrophe* {% endhint %} There are names spoken aloud so that they may be glorified. And there are names whispered so as not to invite misfortune. The name Jaihim Karedim belongs to the latter. Among the highest ranks of the Servants of Decay, he is often called the **First Who Heard**. In the lands of the beastfolk — the Black Bat, the Lord of the Rotting Temples, the elder whom death itself dares not look in the eye. Within the fortresses of the Order, his name is never spoken without need, and when it is mentioned, it is with great reverence and worship. To the Servants of Decay, he is the embodiment of Decay in our world. Jaihim Karedim is an ancient bat, the founder of the Order of the Servants of Decay and the supreme ruler of those who worship the Great Dissolution. He is the word and will of the Great Lord. What Karedim speaks, Decay itself has spoken. The high priests bow before him as before a deity, necromancers tremble in his presence, and the Knights of Decay accept his will as law.
But before the name Jaihim Karedim came to be spoken in whispers, he was known in a very different way. In old records from some beastfolk settlements, he was described as a wandering healer and scholar. He traveled to places where there were no temples, no hospitals, and no protection from disease or the Steam Empire. He appeared in remote villages, mining camps, and swamp settlements that even traders rarely reached. He studied sickness, the decay of flesh, fevers, black sores, Flur poisoning, and the strange ailments of the new world. He treated wounds suffered in battles against the Living Iron. They say he treated anyone he could help. He did not ask whether the sick were rich. He did not ask whom they served. He demanded no oaths. He carried herbs, vials, notes, old instruments, and patience. To some, he was a savior. To others, a strange scholar. But more than a hundred and fifty years ago, Karedim went into the mountains toward Dragon's Ridge, and returned from there a completely different being. He brought back no books, no relics, no signs. **He brought a word. The word of Decay.** A word proclaiming that disease is not merely an enemy of the body, but a sign of the decay to which all living things are subject. That death is not emptiness or an end, but a step toward a new rebirth in a new world. That the proud must be broken, the stagnant destroyed, the eternal reduced to ashes. That the world cannot be healed while it rots from within. It can only be led through Decay so that one day it may take on a new form. **From that day onward, he no longer healed the sick.** He no longer walked through settlements carrying a healer's bag. He no longer saved those who could still be brought back from the brink of death. He no longer sought ways to prolong a fragile life merely for life's own sake. Everything he had once fought against, he now declared part of the great law. He said that the living cling to life out of foolish fear and ignorance. That mercy often merely delays the inevitable. That the true path lies not in saving the old world, but in its decay and rebirth, in accordance with the will of the Great Lord. At first, few listened to him: exiles, the dying, old priests of forgotten cults, warriors who had lost their purpose, healers and scholars disillusioned by their attempts to save the world, or simply those hungry for new knowledge. But the word of Decay proved stronger than fear. It offered an answer to those who watched the new world break beneath the advance of the Living Iron, wars, disease, and the thirst for immortality. From his first followers, Karedim created the Order. Some he made priests, so they could preserve the word of the Great Lord and carry it onward. Others he made Knights of Decay, so they could defend the new faith with spear, armor, oath, and the submission of dead flesh to their will. And to those who possessed great patience, a cold mind, and the willingness to look upon death without revulsion, but lacked physical strength and barely knew which end of a sword to hold, Karedim revealed another form of knowledge. He taught them to wield the power of Decay to raise the dead, bind their will to cold flesh, and alter that which had already left the circle of the living. Thus appeared the first necromancers of the Servants of Decay. Karedim brought his teachings into the world. To most, they seemed terrifying and insane, but as time passed, more and more adherents joined the ranks of the Servants of Decay. But the true depth of that first whisper, his personal vows, and the real price of his bond with the Great Lord, he kept to himself. The great dogma of the Order is simple and terrifying: everything must die, turn to ashes, and return to the cycle of rebirth. A tree rots and nourishes the earth. Bone bleaches and becomes part of the stone. Iron rusts and loses its hold on form. Even memory eventually decays if no one keeps its flame alive. But Karedim himself embodies a contradiction that is rarely spoken of aloud. **He should have died long ago.** The average lifespan of a beastfolk is not long. Some return to the earth by the age of sixty, while others live to eighty if they are fortunate enough to avoid hunger, war, disease, and the claws of underground creatures. Such is the ordinary cycle: birth, prime, old age, death, ashes. But after the Rebirth of the World, there were exceptions. Flur changed living beings unevenly. Some it burned from within. Others it crippled. Some it granted terrible strength while taking away their minds. And there were those whose bodies responded differently to its radiation. They aged more slowly, lived longer, and retained clarity of mind even though they should have become part of the earth long ago. One of the most famous heroes of our time, Raccoon Sam, the longtime leader of the Resistance, is one of the oldest beastfolk known to science. It is said that he was very close to the very heart of the great radiation when the Catastrophe occurred, and since then, time has barely touched him. The shaman Mambo is also counted among those rare beings whose lives have stretched far beyond their natural span. The machines of the Steam Empire are more difficult to judge. Argo does not age as living beings do, but he upgrades himself again and again, replacing parts, reinforcing his body, and thus remains in a world where generations of beastfolk have time to be born and die. So a long life in itself is no longer impossible. **But Karedim is different.** His body is dry like old hide forgotten in a crypt. His face resembles the mask of some ancient nocturnal beast. His arms are thin, his fingers long, his claws dark. And yet time seems to hold almost no power over him. Those who were children during the Order's first campaigns died as old men. Their students grew old as well. Yet Karedim still sits upon his black throne in the depths of the citadel. Some say Flur changed him. Others say the power of the ancient whisper preserved him. The Servants of Decay explain it more simply: the Great Lord will not release him. ***Not out of mercy.*** *Out of necessity.* Decay needs Karedim in the world of the living. Through him passes a will that others could not endure. Through him, priests receive their commands, necromancers their permission, and knights their direction in war. That is why many believe Karedim does not merely serve the Great Lord. He has become his eyes, his hands, and his voice among those who still breathe and walk upon the earth. Those who see Karedim for the first time often make a mistake. They mistake his ancient appearance for weakness. His long robes, black chains, stillness upon the throne, and quiet voice can all deceive a fool. **But fools do not live long around Karedim.** His strength is not the strength of a warrior. It does not come from muscle or heavy weapons. It comes directly from Decay. They say Karedim can stop the blow of a sword with his bare hand, snap the bone of a grown beastfolk like a twig, and hurl an opponent aside as though the armored warrior before him were nothing more than a wet rag. They also say he moves faster than the eye can follow: one moment he is sitting upon his throne, and the next he is standing beside you; one moment his voice comes from the shadows, and the next his hand is already at his enemy's throat. **But that is not what makes him terrifying.** **What is truly terrifying is that he can consume life itself.** Not blood, like some nocturnal creature from an old tale. Not flesh, like a starving monster. Karedim drains the very life force from a living being. The victim grows weak, their breathing falters, their eyes dim, their skin turns gray. The young become old. The strong collapse to their knees in weakness. The brave forget in terror why they ever raised their weapon. And afterward, Karedim seems almost more alive. His voice grows stronger. His gaze darkens. His movements become faster. For one brief moment, it is not an ancient elder who awakens within him, but a being before whom death itself takes a step back.
Even more terrifying is his power over the dead. The necromancers of the Servants of Decay require signs, words, seals, and time. They prepare bodies, draw circles, whisper incantations, and pay with their own strength for every command. The Knights of Decay act differently. They can summon the fallen directly on the battlefield — through their oath, the blood of battle, the power of their armor, and the will of the Great Lord. Their summoning is cruder and heavier, but terrifying because it comes in the very midst of battle. Where enemies fall, a Knight of Decay can raise them again — this time against those beside whom they stood only moments before. But Karedim stands above them both.
He needs no rituals. He does not need to wait for a circle to be completed or for the seals to fill with power. Sometimes a glance is enough. Sometimes, the slightest movement of his fingers.

The fallen rise.

Bones assemble themselves into horrific constructs.

The dead, already bound by the rituals of others, can forget their former masters and submit to his will. For this reason, there is a saying among the Servants of Decay: > *“Ten necromancers will call upon the dead until dawn. Karedim will raise them with a single glance.”* This saying is not spoken as praise. It is more of a warning. For Karedim's power over the dead is unlike ordinary necromancy, and unlike the battlefield summons of the Knights of Decay.

A necromancer performs a ritual.

A Knight of Decay calls upon the fallen through battle.

Karedim commands death itself...

Many peoples fear the Servants of Decay because of their undead, their dark rituals, and their knights clad in armor fused with flesh. But those who understand the Order more deeply should fear something else. They should fear the being who sits at the heart of the black citadel. Jaihim Karedim is not like a commander who leads an army with a sword in hand. He has no need for that. His power is quieter, older, and more terrifying. He can wait for decades. He can remain silent while his enemies build walls and call themselves eternal. He can watch as cities grow, prosper, decay, and disappear into oblivion. Because to him, every living thing is already moving toward the same end...

Toward Decay.

And as long as the Great Lord preserves his life, Karedim will sit upon his black throne, listen to his whispers, and give orders to those who believe that death is not the end, but the beginning of the return.