youthculture
Elite
Five years ago we came home. Our lives were darkened. Our loved ones were dead and dying. Foul vermin crawled across the land and left behind only what they felt was weak and broken. But let this be said of the ex-patriots of Syraandor: we are, if anything, a tenacious people. We reach for what we desire, and when we have our fingers around it, we will never let go.
We collected the pieces. We rebuilt. For five years we fought, tooth and nail, blood and bone, for what was ours. We took weakness and bred strength. Our allies came through the mists to our aid and we bled beside them. We burned away the fear and darkness; we dared to hope where others told us to abandon.
We cried together, died together, watched our brightest lights extinguish. Sir Wynn. Squire Paladar. Marcus of Freeport. Duke Francis Southkin. Ria Taybris Jeyhiel. Princess Anne. Princess Arielle. Our friends and leaders; our pillars of strength. Through their work and sacrifices, our beacon grew brighter. And now my comrades -- my shield-sisters and brothers, my allies in the Deadlands and through the mists -- the time has come. We are on the finite edge, the precipice of darkest night when the dawn seems so far away. We must be the flame that guides the sun up from the east, or there will be no light at all.
On Friday the Eighth at ten and a half bells in the evening, in little more than two weeks time, I invite you to join me one final time on the Hollow Isle at the Vulgar Gargoyle. We will raise our glasses to those we have lost, those we will lose, and the glory of the coming dawn.
And then, my dear friends, we will go to war.
Ria Sevaria of the Deadlands
We collected the pieces. We rebuilt. For five years we fought, tooth and nail, blood and bone, for what was ours. We took weakness and bred strength. Our allies came through the mists to our aid and we bled beside them. We burned away the fear and darkness; we dared to hope where others told us to abandon.
We cried together, died together, watched our brightest lights extinguish. Sir Wynn. Squire Paladar. Marcus of Freeport. Duke Francis Southkin. Ria Taybris Jeyhiel. Princess Anne. Princess Arielle. Our friends and leaders; our pillars of strength. Through their work and sacrifices, our beacon grew brighter. And now my comrades -- my shield-sisters and brothers, my allies in the Deadlands and through the mists -- the time has come. We are on the finite edge, the precipice of darkest night when the dawn seems so far away. We must be the flame that guides the sun up from the east, or there will be no light at all.
On Friday the Eighth at ten and a half bells in the evening, in little more than two weeks time, I invite you to join me one final time on the Hollow Isle at the Vulgar Gargoyle. We will raise our glasses to those we have lost, those we will lose, and the glory of the coming dawn.
And then, my dear friends, we will go to war.
Ria Sevaria of the Deadlands
