<A letter to the elders of Tuatha De Dulra>

[Grey-Moth]

Thresh, with no other means but a rather desperate attempt, has left a letter in the old grove to be discovered. The parchment is colored, naturally, to help it attract the eye and dissuade animals with a bit of ground pepper rubbed into the parchment's back.

'To my betters,

I'm sure you hardly know my name, but this is Acolyte Thresh Starweaver. I write to you on hopes of a meeting, private.

The reason being, before I knew of you. Before I knew of all of this, and joined the Tuatha myself. I've been gathering names across several petitions, to submit to the Emperor of Sundren for a short while, now. I've gathered many names, and now all that really remains is to send my names and letter forward, in hopes he will listen to me.

I wish to extend this opportunity for you all. That if you desire, I may speak on behalf of the gathered. Or act in this alone. Courier your words, if you wish. Anything to help. The valley has made it clear, that many names want these problems to end. Want their fields green again, and their bellies to stop rumbling with hunger.

But before I write, I wanted to tell you that I will. I want to know if there's anything I may do on your behalf, to further your goals.

If you wish to write reply, or to meet, I am a guest at the Second Wind Inn. Fourth room.

Warm winds,
Acolyte Thresh Starweaver'

[[DM] Grinning Death]

The letter sits for a time in the copse of trees that held the Gathering. A thundercloud rolls over the area, its girth stretching over the land like the hand of some small god. A raindrop falls, then another. Soon a downpour covers the copse, water trickling down the branches to the leaves, and then to the ground.

As the rain continues to douse the area, the earthy smell of fresh earth fills the air. A figure moves into the copse, and turns to the brightly colored paper, now drenched. It reaches down, and picks up the letter. It pauses, still and silent, before slipping it into a pouch before walking away.

[Grey-Moth]

The ever pestering elf climbs up hill with a short grunt. Wiping her brow, before the sight of vivid and colorful wild-flowers greet her eyes. Her feet scramble up the last few feet before finding herself at the shrine of Sehanine Moonbow.

A bag of diamond dust is carefully left in offering to the goddess, and the elf shortly flicks a wand across its contents. A spell of blessing for favor, before she unties the bag's top, and lets the wind carry her offering wherever it pleases like tiny flecks of the heavens left in her wake. Her business follows, politely kneeling at the shrine as she scribes her letter.

My elders,

The petitions seem to have taken effect. The Emperor summons I, and it seems many others before him.

It's a shallow request I make, but with so rare a opportunity in our grasp, it seems he desires close ties with we. I'm just as surprised. But it seems he has respect for we, and I wish to reciprocate this respect, and bring forth our wishes and designs to the best of my abilities. To impress. Something I admit in earnest has never been my fortes.

I'm sorry to continually pester you. Without your guidance, I'm quite lost in all of this. Airgetlam Avara, please speak with me soon. I must impress our company, and after our last lesson. I feel I've just as many questions as I did before. Though I thank you that these question bare a foundation of fact, now, where once was mere infinity and delirium without rhyme or reason.

The others grow restless. Nora seems angry, agitated. I would help, but I don't know how to.

The Emperor speaks of some action taken, to risk life and limb in service of Sundren's safety, but I simply do now know what he means. If it is to use us, or to truly fight for the Sundren that we know. I need guidance. Please forgive me. I know you're very used to watching, but I simply don't know what to do in this.

Warm winds,
Acolyte Thresh Starweaver