To she whom is lost,

There are many who are fit to seek the Progress, the Glory that the Wyrd
represents, it gives me great sorrow you were unable to live up to
anyones expectations once again in your existence, alas some who flit
aimlessly without direction as often as you have succumb usuually to
such a fate, for it is not just the Serenwilde, nor the Cities of
Gaudiguch or Celest, but it is also the Wyrd which you have failed.
Frankly, in your own words you have admitted you are unable to do so,
that you seek succor upon your knees crawling like a mewling cub for the
mercy of the very Gods you forsake in your efforts.

Apologies are just words, even then your vows in the past have been
broken, what of you shows any intention of service, of duty, of worth.
Merits for ones examples are something which we often taught in the
Wyrd, it is a common idealism that the Cities and Communes will praise
as well. Your actions leave wounds, your words do not mend them, and you
will always find that the deeper the wound you make the greater the
scars you form. For it is not your departure I offer these words of, it
is of your own flippant disregard for substance, you are not a loss to
the Wyrd as we do not need one who is apathetic and lacks in their
service, I bid you well, but truly search yourself because it is quite
easy to form wounds in the scars of the past.

The Wyrd is of Perseverence, the Wyrd is of Strength, and the Wyrd is of
Beauty and Perfection.

Glory be to Glomdoring,

Master Scanlan Stormcrow


Penned by my hand on the 21st of Roarkian, in the year 440 CE.