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<A series of small letters, around the Gate of the Sunderer>
In the dead of night, with a thoughtful, and distracted humming swept through a single black-haired elf. Purple robes rustling with her timid footsteps all about, before the sudden *THWACK* of a hammer here and there, where a wooden item would not be called defaced by the nails holding her letters up. The hand-writing is immaculate, and careful. Each copy of the flier seemingly identical to the last. Around two dozen in all.
__________________________________________________ __________
__________________________________________________ __________
People of the Valley
Long has it been that the land beneath your feet suffers. But it doesn't have to be this way. Where many would call your acts a defacement of nature, others understand that society must, and will, expand.
All around you is the most beautiful world you can but imagine. And all around you, that world is edged back, further and further. Many have seen the bites and stings, the scratches. The howls and wails of a furious force, called nature herself. Many have mistaken, grown fearful of this amazing power.
I want to remind you, that nature is not only wolves, and game to hunt and eat. Nature, like your society, is a delicate balance. And one that is veering off course. One that needs the help of everyone to survive. So that your children might award their lovers flowers, and not weeds. So your husbands might enjoy warm cloaks of fur on their backs, before it's too late. So your wives may cradle their children in soft cotton. Raised, in this land. Made, in this land. By a proud, and brave people.
Please, speak to your officials. Raise awareness. Donate a little time, or money, to the cause. I do not call you greedy. I do not call you relentless. I only ask that nature's bounties survive. So that we may all enjoy them. From the last blueberry, to the last ear of corn.
Be involved. Plant a tree. Treasure every piece of the land. Give back to it, and feel the liberating thrills of sharing with your home. Give back to it, and know that when the next harvest arrives. When the next apple you bite into, you planted that tree. Know that you gave, and earned as good people should.
You don't need to fear the wilds. Only respect it. You don't need to fear every howl of the wolf at night. Only respect it. But you do need to fear, what evils can be wrought by a hand that doesn't know any better. You do need to fear, that the land beneath you, in all of its bounty. Can die. A Malarite calls your growth perversion. He calls you murderers. I call you no such thing. I call you a good people. That only needs a guiding hand, to express that they care. That only needs to be reminded, that they can give to a beautiful, boundless force, that can not ask you by its own voice.
__________________________________________________ _________
The letter continues, politely, but nonetheless imploring for the citizens help. To donate to their state, in the attempt to restore forestry, and seek responsible means to the ends of obtaining precious minerals, ores, and basic necessities. No name is left on the charter, though anyone that saw the elf might recognize the very dizzy, very distracted woman to be Thresh Starweaver.
The final bit is merely a list, and travel quills placed to sign. So that citizens that can't afford to give might still speak up that they care by signing, and show their governing bodies that they do so. The elf soon to be seen in Avanthyr, with a glint in eye. Asking permission of shop owners to hang, or leave her notices with them as well.
All around you is the most beautiful world you can but imagine. And all around you, that world is edged back, further and further. Many have seen the bites and stings, the scratches. The howls and wails of a furious force, called nature herself. Many have mistaken, grown fearful of this amazing power.
I want to remind you, that nature is not only wolves, and game to hunt and eat. Nature, like your society, is a delicate balance. And one that is veering off course. One that needs the help of everyone to survive. So that your children might award their lovers flowers, and not weeds. So your husbands might enjoy warm cloaks of fur on their backs, before it's too late. So your wives may cradle their children in soft cotton. Raised, in this land. Made, in this land. By a proud, and brave people.
Please, speak to your officials. Raise awareness. Donate a little time, or money, to the cause. I do not call you greedy. I do not call you relentless. I only ask that nature's bounties survive. So that we may all enjoy them. From the last blueberry, to the last ear of corn.
Be involved. Plant a tree. Treasure every piece of the land. Give back to it, and feel the liberating thrills of sharing with your home. Give back to it, and know that when the next harvest arrives. When the next apple you bite into, you planted that tree. Know that you gave, and earned as good people should.
You don't need to fear the wilds. Only respect it. You don't need to fear every howl of the wolf at night. Only respect it. But you do need to fear, what evils can be wrought by a hand that doesn't know any better. You do need to fear, that the land beneath you, in all of its bounty. Can die. A Malarite calls your growth perversion. He calls you murderers. I call you no such thing. I call you a good people. That only needs a guiding hand, to express that they care. That only needs to be reminded, that they can give to a beautiful, boundless force, that can not ask you by its own voice.
__________________________________________________ _________
The letter continues, politely, but nonetheless imploring for the citizens help. To donate to their state, in the attempt to restore forestry, and seek responsible means to the ends of obtaining precious minerals, ores, and basic necessities. No name is left on the charter, though anyone that saw the elf might recognize the very dizzy, very distracted woman to be Thresh Starweaver.
The final bit is merely a list, and travel quills placed to sign. So that citizens that can't afford to give might still speak up that they care by signing, and show their governing bodies that they do so. The elf soon to be seen in Avanthyr, with a glint in eye. Asking permission of shop owners to hang, or leave her notices with them as well.
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