Greetings to all,

After a life dedicated to the path of Light and the beliefs of Good, I
find myself forsaken by the very organisations dedicated to these
ideals.

When I close my eyes, I picture still the good days of old. I see young
members of Shallam running around the Aalen with butterfly nets. I see
thirsty, sweaty folks stumbling in the Mojave in a heated struggle to
appease the Sphinx. I see blood flowing over the falls in the valley of
Dun, and I see the clash of mighty armies that risked all for victory
and glory.

In my mind, the ring of swords on swords echoes strongly, with cries of
pain and anguish. The victories we had earned were only temporary
respites from the cloud of Evil in the West, and always came at great
cost.

These things are sadly tainted now, even in memories. For after these
brief glimpses of the past, a more immediate one appears. I see myself
wielding weapons of death, I see pain and suffering, and my heart aches
with the realization that they were inflicted by me.

To have come to this... to be mistrusted by the people that brought me
up... and the people that I brought up... I cannot stand.

In penance I will sink into the murky depths of obscurity. You will not
see me, nor will you hear of me. I will have nothing but the silence of
my confinement to keep me company. I will not surface until a decade has
passed.

Farewell, and fight on.
Latus Sioraiocht

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Aeguary, in the year 423 AF.