Post by aGreatMagician on Dec 10, 2013 15:36:59 GMT
Dipping quill to ink, and tapping inked tip to brim, a calloused hand moves swiftly to scratch word to parchment in the flickering candlelight of the dim room.
To Abbeymaster Telembrar
Care of the Abbey of Threefold Grace
Lyrabar, Great Impiltur
"Master Telembrar,
Thrice-fold blessings find you in fine health and mood, master," The quill hesitates for a moment, the ink seeping into the page and forming a small splotch, "I am well, and learning much. This land of Cormyr is strange in so many ways that I could scarcely list them, and yet it also somehow reminds me of home. Suzail shares many similarities to Lyrabar, as though it were some distant cousin once removed, so much so that even conflict might marr them similarly. The weight I have witnessed upon the shoulders of the soldiers, the lingering pain within the eyes of the common folk; I recognize them well. In them is a mirror of the horrors that only war might bring."
"However," The hand reaches out to wet the ink, "I find it curious, if not miraculous, that the realm has not fallen. A great enemy has been felled here and a righteous victory achieved, truly, yet enough blood has seeped into the earth that it is drawing all manner of creatures. In a way, master, I may be one such creature; though predators might flock here to seek a feast, creatures likened to us would seek only to stem the blood and mend the wound. I believe this to be the true intention of the Regent here. Where Impiltur has sealed her heart and rejected outsiders in her grief and pain, Cormyr instead opens her arms and has faith in the prayer that the righteous will find her before the wolves do."
"Master, I believe I begin to understand why you bid me leave Impiltur. We lean on the Triad and trust in their guidance and wisdom to preserve us, and yet we ignore the world they touch in a thousand different places and in as many different ways," A haughty bout of laughter wafts up from the floor below, music and mood swelling and ebbing as the night drags onwards. "I feel that Cormyr, this realm that is cousin to ours, will greatly benefit from the lessons and wisdom that the Triad has blessed us with. Perhaps we, too, will find salvation for our home in the good intentions of others.
I shall write again, to let you know of developments. Be well, master.
With fondness,
Reinhold"
The parchment is neatly folded and sealed with wax. The figure of a man rises, picking up the letter and tucking it into his shirt. With a small breath, the candle is snuffed out, and the room grows dark.
To Abbeymaster Telembrar
Care of the Abbey of Threefold Grace
Lyrabar, Great Impiltur
"Master Telembrar,
Thrice-fold blessings find you in fine health and mood, master," The quill hesitates for a moment, the ink seeping into the page and forming a small splotch, "I am well, and learning much. This land of Cormyr is strange in so many ways that I could scarcely list them, and yet it also somehow reminds me of home. Suzail shares many similarities to Lyrabar, as though it were some distant cousin once removed, so much so that even conflict might marr them similarly. The weight I have witnessed upon the shoulders of the soldiers, the lingering pain within the eyes of the common folk; I recognize them well. In them is a mirror of the horrors that only war might bring."
"However," The hand reaches out to wet the ink, "I find it curious, if not miraculous, that the realm has not fallen. A great enemy has been felled here and a righteous victory achieved, truly, yet enough blood has seeped into the earth that it is drawing all manner of creatures. In a way, master, I may be one such creature; though predators might flock here to seek a feast, creatures likened to us would seek only to stem the blood and mend the wound. I believe this to be the true intention of the Regent here. Where Impiltur has sealed her heart and rejected outsiders in her grief and pain, Cormyr instead opens her arms and has faith in the prayer that the righteous will find her before the wolves do."
"Master, I believe I begin to understand why you bid me leave Impiltur. We lean on the Triad and trust in their guidance and wisdom to preserve us, and yet we ignore the world they touch in a thousand different places and in as many different ways," A haughty bout of laughter wafts up from the floor below, music and mood swelling and ebbing as the night drags onwards. "I feel that Cormyr, this realm that is cousin to ours, will greatly benefit from the lessons and wisdom that the Triad has blessed us with. Perhaps we, too, will find salvation for our home in the good intentions of others.
I shall write again, to let you know of developments. Be well, master.
With fondness,
Reinhold"
The parchment is neatly folded and sealed with wax. The figure of a man rises, picking up the letter and tucking it into his shirt. With a small breath, the candle is snuffed out, and the room grows dark.