[DrPraetorious]

"We are victorious again, my lord, but the armies of the foe yet surround the city of the Jotuns."
Chuck Norris, he who divides the waters, prince of winter, snarled through a mouth full of yard-long, razor sharp teeth. "Then let them come against you again, we have more onyx for the death fires, it shall be of no account."
He whom before all else tremble, the prophet of the True God, trembles now before his master. "Lamentably, my lord, We drew too much from my acolytes. They lie dead. And the eastern vestels are but a shattered remnant of their former strength, my lord." The morning before the battle, he had bathed with them, as was his custom. He was too old and frail to take the innocence upon which their fierce power depended, but greatly enjoyed the cool, ghostly touch of their flesh as they bathed him. In the previous battle, they had all fallen in the field, before a hail of flaming arrows. Now his students lay buried beside them, pale, killed from within by the life force he and the other masters had drawn from them.
He before whom the mountains tremble roars his defiance. "The worm, Crystalmist, it is dead?"
"It lives, my Lord. It fled the field of battle when its minions were scattered. But if you were to slay it yourself, my Lord, the people would rejoice..."
"You overstep yourself, my herald. The time shall come when that may be needed. If you drew so much upon your acolytes that they all died, how is it that any of the foe yet live?"
The priestly lord swallows. "Some fled the field, oh Light of the World. Some were held in reserve, and the enemy was not so thick upon the field that all of our blasts found their mark."
The rightful Lord of the Whole World snarls again. "Should the worm enter my deeper desmesnes, the strength of my true Church will be the end of it, the vile thing. That will be time to prove who is the true heir of the first dew."
The prophet is heartened by this, his eyes shine with religious zeal. After all, though the worm Crystalmist shines more spendidly than any thing, one need only draw breath in their presence to know that Chuck Norris was a more potent lord of water and cold. "So it shall be..."
"For now, focus your power more tightly, and shred them with nether bolts. You still have an entire legion of Praetorians under your command - the enemy has not yet tasted their sting, and greatly underestimates their strength, I think."
The face of an elderly man appears in another of the mirrors. The lord of Ermor has taken from his priests their names, and proclaimed that they should be known by their offices.
"High adept of the air, we greet you in brotherhood on this day."
The Great Lord of the World is not so quick to anger as he might have been, as this is one of his most favored servants. "We had tasked you with hunting the places of power in our near west, aassdd. How come you to interrupt our council of war?"
"A thousand humble apologies, oh Master of the World, and greetings to you, adept of the water, high master of death, herald of the true God. My Lord, one of your western provinces, my Lord, but recently liberated by your own hand, has fallen to the western savages. Their army of bull-men marches towards us even now."
The great lord roars.
"I will tell assdd to marshal his host of vestals and bring it to the border. You, wssddd, will abandon the city of the Jotuns and march west. When our plans are complete, we will have the power to smash both the tree-lovers of the east and the west in one stroke. But for now, we cannot extend our power so far."
He roars again, all defiance and rage.
"Do not fail me again, adepts."
They bow their heads as the mirrors wink out.