Crossing the market square of your hometown, or perhaps just a settlement find yourself passing through, you hear the voice of the crier ring out.
“The great general Malkiros, victor of a hundred campaigns, foremost citizen of Evea and proudest of the Argeans, has a message of the highest importance for anyone worthy to receive it.”
The crier unfurls his scroll and begins his announcement:
“Can you hear its whisper in the wind? Can you feel its tremor in the ground? Ten thousand Dwarvish boots marching west, gathering auxiliaries in every village, now a hundred thousand, sweeping over sacred Argea, now a million, spreading to every corner of the world, smothering us all under a blanket of tyranny.
“We have been a bulwark, breaking the tides of Sharburian aggression. Our warriors have held the line, time after time, and we have endured. Who knows when they will strike again? I do not doubt it is coming, for I know the heart of Emperor Xarshun, and I know it to be evil indeed.
“I also happen to know the Emperor’s sister, the Lady Roxhara. She is everything her brother is not: wise, judicious, and above all, a friend. In her, I see a new Sharburia, one that can coexist with us in peace, as brothers and sisters serving Dyospaterion and his divine kin. In her ascendancy, I see a world at peace. But to bring about this peace, she needs an army.
“So I call upon you. From every corner of the Argean world, I call you. We must gather our own ten thousand and march into the heart of the Sharburian Empire. We must overthrow the tyrant Xarshun and install Roxhara. For the good of Argea. For the good of all!
“Join me in the great city of Evea. There we will muster our troops, steel our hearts, and set sail. To arms! To battle! To victory!”