The history of the Glomdoring Commune is long and winding, at its birth,
it was a place of refuge for all weary of the cities and the northern
forest. Through the decades, the Glomdoring has seen both Celest and
Serenwilde turn their hungry eyes towards us, and, as a result, become a
prime stomping grounds to both. In a most recent display of aggression,
these peoples have ended the lives of Night's Avatars not once, but
twice. A number which seems to be repeated in the death of Crow.
Serenwilde and Celest butcher our Great Spirit, slaughter the Avatars of
our most holy Night, and silence the Drums of the Dead Themselves. The
throngs of Serenwilde would even go so far as to murder their own loyal
villagers simply to thwart the dark forest.

And yet we are told to negotiate. We are told to prostrate ourselves
before a gilded citizenry beholden to stunted lords, and to kneel as
submissive to those who would place themselves as eternal foe to our
Spirits, and scourge of our children. There are those that would smile
sympathetically at us, and with pity in their hearts, offer the chance
for us to beseech them for their grace of peace, and ease of conflict.
They would have Glomdoring grovel like a mere mutt before them, and in
response, consider something potentially amicable. To them I say, I meet
your sympathy with spite, and your pity with malice.

Glomdoring will never be liege lord to another. We are not slaves,
whether it is through treaty to Celest, armistice to Serenwilde, or
alliance with Magnagora. The Glomdoring has no illusions as to its own
power, and no excuses as to the procession of recent events. Our
failings are our own. But while the Serenwilde quivers beneath its own
chaos, lead little by many, and the city of New Celest worships its own
militaristic might more than its self-styled deities of cheer and
goodwill, Glomdoring knows the purity of conscience related to believing
in the guidance of Its superiors. In following the direction of Mother
Night, and Her brother, Mighty Crow, Glomdoring's reverence is
unwavering and as Celest brews war alongside its erstwhile lover,
Serenwilde, firmly Glomdoring says no. We are slaves to Wyrden whim, and
we've no room for servitude to an inferior power. If you seek a
negotiation, if you seek to speak to the Glomdoring seriously, then
speak to us. Approach the Shadow Court, but do not insult us by
considering yourselves our betters. There are many advantages to be
gained by the abstinence of war, and the Glomdoring is nothing if not
pragmatic.

The Glomdoring has been fighting this war since its emergence, and a
formal declaration, or the increased vitriol of a slew of barbarous
individuals will not send the domain of Mother Night and Crow to its
knees. We are ready to fight, and we are ready to die. But it is up to
the leaders of the Wilde and her compatriot to decide as to whether they
will forsake diplomacy for savagery, and decide in the end, if it will
change anything at all.

With regards,

Marshall Astraea Nightshade

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Dioni, in the year 223 CE.