A letter to the Emperor, Imperatu Verinus

[Grey-Moth]

'To his Highness, Emperor Verinus,

My name is Thresh Starweaver. A name that no doubt rings absolutely no bells to your mind, and means little before context. But I pray this letter reaches you in both good health, and favor. I am an immigrant to your great country from far away, and quickly it has become my home.

I represent a mere acolyte to a organization older then the rule of Sundren herself. And though I am only acolyte, I am honored with the blessings of my elders to speak on behalf of your lands. And I do mean literally of your lands.

Pray, do not crumple this letter. This is not a lecture of failing grass, nor a thoughtless plea. In my short time within the Tuatha De Dulraa, I have come to understand piece by piece the ground beneath you. Would that I could ignore such things I would never bother your highness as a mere acolyte, but we can no longer wipe our hands of responsibility. Neither of us, my liege.

Your people starve, and your fields rot. And though many I am sure have guessed, and lectured, and thought upon why. I can tell you these answers, with no uncertainty. I want to help you, and your country. I want to help Sundren survive these deep and dark times. But for I to do that, I must be invited to work with your country.

I do not expect to be welcomed with open arms. I do not expect to be bid a audience with you, as my name is quite meaningless, I am sure. But I am begging you. For the sake of your country and the lives that you protect, I am begging you. I must be allowed to speak. I must be afforded the understanding that I am no mad-man. I value the lives of your people as well as the forest, not one before the other. I am begging that you will grant audience to me with someone.

Attached to this letter, you will find a great many names across parchment signed to a petition. These are the voices of your people, who don't want to die. They don't want to starve, and I don't want to let them. Each signature, I assure you, is obtained legally and under no false pretense. Please send for me. Please send someone to me, that may help me help you. I rent the fourth room of the Second Wind Inn. Anyone may reach me there, be it letter or representative.

Signed,
Thresh, the Starweaver'


<Attached to the letter is every last signed petition that Thresh has obtained, be it heroes, Legionnaires, Blackwood, Triad, peasant and merchant. Each one cared for and protected until this day they were sent forward. The elf has hand-delivered them, the task too important to her to be left to a courier, before returning to her 'home'. The next hour spent in prayer to Mystra that every last scrap of paper would make it to the Emperor's hands.>

(( http://www.sundren.org/forum/showthr...hlight=letters For referencing.))

[[DM] Grinning Death]

The letter is handed to a clerk, bespectacled and whose thin face carries lines etched deep into the pale skin. His long fingers caress the parchment, and examines it with eyes large enough to fill most of his visage.

He stares at it for a long while, reading the names. Every so often, he checks a large tome sitting next to him on his desk, licking his finger to turn the page of thick parchment. The candles sitting next to him burn down, a quarter of the wax gone. Then half. And before the end of the evening, as the first rays of sun peek over the clouds surrounding the City, he sets the petition down. He scribbles something on a clean sheet, and attaches the letter and petition to it.

The letter makes its way through the Castrum, carried by a messenger of non-descript appearance. The messenger hands it to a guard, stationed outside the Emperor's living quarters. The guard carries it to the throne room, and hands it to a member of the Praetorian Guard, a scarred veteran of the Bloodmaim War. She reads it briefly, and carries it to the throne.

A chair, little more. Beautifully carved, plated in rare metals. But still, just a chair.

The man in the chair, though, is another story. He takes the letter, reads the note attached, and a small smile crosses his face. His voice is deep and powerful, with a note of authority that cannot be disobeyed.

"Bring them to me."