Many, many years ago while exploring the expanse of the Grey Moors, I
chanced happily across a castle ruins where a group of krokani guards
performed their duty. I greeted one of these guards, a proudly built
example of his people whose sole eye looked far into the horizon, in
that contemplative manner which is the trait of Krokani race. I, for all
intent and purposes - a lost tourist, greeted this krokani guard in the
hopes of learning a quest to undertake. The krokani guard smiled, his
expression a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance. Yet he and all the
guards present tolerated my presence and permitted me to wander around
in peace which was truly kind of them.

So with imagined self-appointed importance I investigated my
surroundings, hoping to find sovereigns and adventure! After walking,
with growing boredom, here and there for half a day, I discovered my
gold pouch still empty and that I had received a slight tan under the
glaring sun. When I return to the place where I had met the krokani
guards earlier, I was just in time to see the krokani guard which I had
greeted staring at me with his sole eye. But not at me, I realized, but
through me, pass me, to a place beyond. Then the spirit of his sole eye
dimmed and the krokani guard fell down to his own pool of blood. All
other guards were dead as well.

A paladin stood calmly. He retrieved his broadsword which was impaled in
the krokani guard's chest. Surprised, I asked the paladin whether he was
attacked. I was growing nervous that I had misjudged the krokani guards'
earlier tolerance of me as a guise, that I would have been attacked as
well. However in a nonchalant tone, the paladin replied that he was not
attacked, that he was "bashing" and that the krokani guards were fair
game to make him stronger. I took this answer from this paladin, this
servant of the Light, and reflected much on it.

Some years later I was exploring one of the dwarven mine settlements. (I
can't remember which since all tunnels look alike to me. Honourable
Dwarves may forgive me in this since it is the province of dwarves, not
elfen, in recognizing the individuality of each rock and stone. Such an
uncanny ability. That and dwarves' capacity for ale consumption!) Anyway
I passed by some dwarven guards from time to time and bowed politely and
they in turn tolerated my tourist inclinations. (In retrospect the
dwavern guards must have thought it only natural for everyone to be as
much fascinated with the world underground as Dwarves do.)

You, Reader, may have concluded what is to happen next, only waiting for
my telling to catch up. This time it was an Aquamancer (or was it a
Celestine? I always get the two mixed.) After the commotion, I ask the
raider the reason for the killing of so many dwarvess in their own home.
Very politely he explained to me that it was in the interest of his
city, New Celest. That by weakening his city's rival, through the
killing of the dwarves whom were pledged to his city's rival, then New
Celest would grow stronger by comparison. To his credit, the raider was
very much polite and eloquent in his words (finally a gentleman of
manners) and I asked whether the interest of New Celest was the same as
the interest of the Light. He was perplexed at this obvious question and
answered, "New Celest and the Light are one and the same." I took this
answer and reflected much on it.

After all these years I have come to the conclusion that to serve the
Light is the pursuit of strength, of power. (Though my nwely found
cousin keeps arguing passionately otherwise, which I do not see why
since such a pursuit to be understandable and to a degree, admirable.)
Let those much in love with Power flatten the grass and cut the trees,
and build houses of stone for their home. Thus in the righteous name of
Power, or by whatever Name Power prefers to be draped, let them make
war. And to those who choose not this path, let them return to the
forests and the teachings of the Great Spirits.

Thus the Commune of Glomdoring and the Commune of Serenwilde are
cousins, for though we may quarrel as family do, we are kin for we take
pause to listen to the whisperings of the Great Spirits.

That is why when upon hearing of the Commune of Serenwilde formal
alliance with the city of New Celest, I believed it not but it was so.
That a forestal commune stands proudly under the banner of a city, not
since the days of history. I believe we must all take note of this
historical event, for it is, an event to note in history. The Commune of
Serenwilde must have forgiven the Past, and wish to return to the fold
of the Light and reestablishment of the Old Empire.

I do not hear the whisperings of the Great Spirits as clearly as I would
like. Is the call of the old days in the air? Is Empire whispering in
the winds?

I understand that because of where I choose to call home now, this post
may be dismissed as the ramblings of the mad. But I ask, what is madness
- To say and be as what you are or To say what you are and be something
completely different?

Thus I urge sincerely the people of Serenwilde to find the inner courage
to question the direction in which their leaders are taking them. It
only takes one wrong step to fall.

Hmm... How short the candle burns now and I have to apologize to my good
scribe who is visibly tired and sleepy. I have to apologize to you,
Reader, as well for the length of this post which was unintended.

May Goddess Viravain watch over us all.

Azman Elderbranch


Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Roarkian, in the year 120 CE.