The Storm is the roiling, violent manifestation of the Skylord's wrath and joy, His test to separate the hardiest mortals from the pretenders in His Sky. It is our battle and our weapon, our hardship and our salvation. I have been granted visions of His most devout raptly flying into lightning, and emerge charged but unscathed. I have seen the toil of His power used upon and by His blessed priests. I have sat amidst the raging winds, the furious hail, the incandescent thunder, and rose again renewed and undaunted.

So too is His Sky the expanse of boundless potential, the firmament under which all things are attainable. Beneath His wings His children soar, steadfast in the clarity of fair horizons, bolstered by their own self-actualisation. His clerics do not fear the unknown and the unknowable, but exalt in rapturous bliss for the blessings of His mysteries.

When one understands Chaos as the tumultuous force of change, and the source for limitless possibility, what better perch should His Farethi espouse than the Seat of Chaos?

When Lord Vastar declared for Ashtan on His return, it is because He could recognise the mettle and daring of her people: how similar are those who'd wield and study a power that can build or raze, and those who fly through His Storm. How alike the men and women audacious enough to gaze into infinity, and those who touch His Sky.

Do not dread the sweeping winds of change, but relish in their wake, for those who have weathered their most savage howls will stand as bastions of resilience when the real work begins.

Should this cry awaken your own longing to take to wing and soar among His Farethi or find your place in Ashtan, apply to Ariettie Da'Navi.


May Winds guide,

~ Sybilla Bravi'os
Qiyahuatl inel Yeliztli
Voice of the Storm emeritus




Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Glacian, in the year 692 AF.