The rearrangement of the Eastern Reaches to accommodate the construction of Targossas most certainly dispossessed a large portion of the native creatures whom called the terrain their home. This is profoundly normal, and something we expected from the very beginning. Our city architect has done wonders in preserving the integrity of the environment and its inhabitants. Life flourishes along the length of the Silverveil from his efforts, and the Dawnspear thrives with the life that coexists with us, and the thousands of soldiers and their families that serve the Light and Righteousness.

We cannot deny you your concern for the state of our surrounds, as it is your calling and cause in service to Creation.

Yet, such threats to the safety and sanctity of the hollowed ground of the Bloodsworn will not go unanswered. Allow me to cite to you the Fifth Axiom of Righteousness:

"If a law prevents you from your task, rewrite it. If a moral gives you pause, expunge it. If a man stands in your way, cut him down. Any obstacle that impedes us is our foe, and the foe of all Creation."

The sole benefactors of your heedless spear-rattling are the very foes we fight against, Blackthorn General. Do well to remember that.

Should you decide to turn away from the true path of those who serve Creation, then the Zaphar shall run red with your blood, and the taint of your hubris shall be purged clean from the Eastern Ithmia in Righteous flame.

We, and all of our kind whom serve Creation will mourn the loss of the once noble wardens who lost sight of what was important - and threw their lives away over houses and families thriving in the place where grassland once lay.

However, it need not be this way. Cast aside your misdirected bloodlust, and stand beside us together as the bulwark of Creation. Work the lands the way that only Nature's sages know how, and help us cleanse the corruption of Chaos, Evil and Darkness from the realm. While we may not always see eye to eye, we seek the same horizon - to see Creation made paradise once more, and all things returned to their natural order as Ayar-now-Sarapis envisioned it.

Let the ironwood boughs of the Ithmia not break under the weight of such poorly placed scorn.

Daeir Wintermourne
The Ivory Apostle of the Harbingers of Redemption


Penned by my hand on the 9th of Glacian, in the year 655 AF.