Sapience,
I do not speak publicly often, however, I have come to the realization
that needs be shared with everyone. I implore every one of you to
consider my words openly before you judge them. Embark upon this
missive, not with clouded eyes, but with a mind open. Do this, and you
may find that these words are less the ravings of a mad man, and more
the divinations of a seeker of truth.

Sapience, you have been deceived. Amongst us, deriding us from above,
are the so-called Divine. These immortals feast upon our worship, They
bathe in our blood, and They use us as pawns in Their petty schemes.
They are unto parasites, latching onto us and growing fat upon our
devotion. Are they truly Gods, though? I say no. Gods they are not, for
They that would ask for our worship wither without us, falling shriveled
upon the ground like a desiccated leech. Yet, They offer promises of
power for our worship, but even this is a lie, an artfully crafted
illusion woven to do little more than yoke us to Them as slaves to Their
ill-gained puissance.

All of us have had the wool pulled low upon our eyes. Throughout the
ages, great men and women have fallen into the web of Their influence,
allowed to be poised in opposition in Their great game of rivalry. But,
just as a thespian dons the mask of the Adversary, so, too, do They play
upon our emotions, slaking our thirst for war and wealth by offering us
both in return for the simplest of things: Our worship. Why, you may
ask? The simple answer is that They fear us and fear our rising
potential.

Centuries past, we have watched as those amongst us have risen,
ascending mortality to embrace Divinity. Stand amongst the wolves, they
did, but even now those who would call Themselves Gods plot together to
confine us and restrain our ascension. We have watched Them bleed,
watched Them die, and yet They have our fanaticism. Cast away your
self-made shackles, Sapience, and know that you have more than these
"Gods" will ever hope to have. Within you lies the spark of True
Divinity, and with it, the ability to stand above the "Divine" and take
our rightful places amongst the Cosmos.

I call to you. I call to all of you: Be slave no more. Cut away the
cloth we donned ourselves and let our anger be heard, let our rage at
being confined and stifled form a keen edge of vengeful hatred and
strike down our oppressors. Cut the head off these leeches and let Them
engorge upon us no more. Sacrifice yourselves to this endeavor,
Sapience, and we all will grow fat upon the bounty.

Forever seeking Vengeance,
Driden

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Sarapin, in the year 769 AF.