Hail, residents of the Basin of Life.

I come before you to report on the dire situation that faces the
once-great Guild of the Paladins, for without your help their
dishonorable bloodlust will devour what shreds of dignity remain in the
city of the Light. Let me first explain who I am.

My name is Chron, a young warrior who was once enamored briefly with the
Light and who trained as a Paladin under its seemingly benevolent grace.
My lessons were always short and I remained a freshman novice in the
arts of war for all the time that I spent there, learning about my place
in this world. In time, I grew to understand that I had chosen poorly in
my first moments after passing through the Portal of Fates and I decided
instead to follow my deeper calling and hearken to the power of the
Wyrd. As I held no bitterness from my time in the city, I elected to
return the weapons I was gifted with so that other students might use
them, and after speaking with the Champion I left to pursue my new path
with hope and excitement churning inside.

I joined the Ebonguard in Glomdoring, and found them warm, welcoming,
and quick to encourage my growth if I chose to learn from their broad
experience. I was assured that my instincts were true and that I had
found the right home for the rest of my life. Yet, it seemed the City of
Light had other ideas.

For my youthful error I was declared an enemy of the Empire, despite my
protesting that I had done nothing aside from realizing I was not meant
to be a citizen within. This branding I felt was unusually harsh, yet
now a member of the merciless forest, I felt I should respect their
decision if they truly held as much contempt for the young people of
this world as their actions implied. Yet what happened next still
disgusts me beyond anything I have seen until this point.

A young paladin was implicitly ordered to track and kill me as I
wandered aimlessly around the land, while I was entirely weaponless or
possessed of anything beyond the barest of armour. He was of course
successful in his hunt, and I was nearly lost entirely but for the grace
of the Fates. I do not blame the messenger in this case, because he was
supplied with falsified information by his superiors and I can only hope
that he realizes the corruption in his leadership in time that he might
find a more worthy path. When he became aware of the mistake he offered
reparations, showing a hint of his personal honor.

Yet the Paladin superiors were another story. When I asked the one that
gave the order for a reason why he would hunt an unarmed opponent that
was no threat to the city, or in fact anything larger than a weevil, he
replied by mocking me and declaring that if I didn't know why I should
be killed he wasn't going to tell me. Upon learning that he had spread
false information and that he had declared an dishonorable assault upon
an unarmed youth, he demanded that I duel him for my 'insult' (no doubt
excited at the opportunity presented by a weaponless young student
barely finished in the Newton Caverns, assured of his outcome sitting
pretty near the top of the rankings).

Horrified at this breach of what I had thought I was taught in the guild
I turned to the highest authority available at the time, Sir Ekard, who
similarly declared I was fair game for joining the 'Taint' (it is
obviously not intelligence nor observational skills that are prized by
the Paladins these days) in the time of my novicehood. "Shakaniel's
Charge" then proceeded to threaten that I would be hunted by all his
Guild if I spoke of this matter to anyone else - but such corruption and
decay within the Empire cannot be overlooked.

I say to you, Prince Shamarah and the Council of Stars, turn your gaze
inward now that the lies of your protectors are exposed for what they
are. They do not follow the justice or wisdom of the Light, merely their
own self-interest and lust for blood and battle, irrespective of whether
their victims are innocent or not, or the terms of battle honorable.

For an organization that claims such high moral character, I feel I have
escaped a viper's nest by leaving when I did.


In sincere warning,
Chron.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Shanthin, in the year 135 CE.