My fellow Achaeans, and bretheren

there was once a man, a Young man, who sought to prove himself a
warrior, an ally, and a friend. being young and eager, he entered the
world, and set to his work.
starting out successful, this man proved his mettle on the fields of
battle, and the streets of his home. somewhere along the way, the young
man developed an ego that needed to be fed, so he fed it. eventually
realizing what he was doing, and ultimately what he had done, he went
into exile, mostly by choice, and partly out of having burned his
bridges. over time, and reflection into himself. he gained enough
insight to see that the world was not to blame, but instead all blame
rested solely upon his shoulders.

the day came when the young man stood before the gates to his city, and
his home, broken, and humbled, and he asked forgiveness.

the end of this story has yet to be written, as this mans is standing at
the gates awaiting the next chapter

to the people of Ashtan, this is my story. I have made my mistakes, and
I have learned from them, I ask you now, broken, and humbled, to forgive
me, and allow me to come home


Jarlaxyl

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Mayan, in the year 285 AF.