'Scholars' of the Ebonguard,

These lies you spread about the beloved High Druid of Ackleberry are
truly despicable, even by the standards set by your forebears. The dying
rotforest in which you wallow has far more need for such fetile manure
than these public records.

You grovel before a Worm that has but a fleeting shadow of the Gladheart
left trapped within, and the beast's corruption obscures and twists
whatever truth may yet remain. Just as with the decaying hag who calls
herself Rowena, it is folly to mistake artifice and taintborne trickery
for reality. Though I should not be surprised... I have heard that the
shadow of Great Hart's lost brother now encourages that confusion to
flower within his followers.

Aye. Sadness upon sadness, such have the choices of civilization
fostered upon you, fair Gloriana.

You defile the natural rhythms of the Music, you desecrate the
sacredness of a once-sister commune, you enslave the Spirits to your
unholy will... but do not mock so great a man as Gib was. You are not
worthy of his name.


For the Music,
Elryn Greythane.

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Roarkian, in the year 124 CE.