Tell me, elite and adventurers of Spinesreach.

Can your smallfolk eat Ambition? Are their bellies filled by your empty pride, are their homes mended by your ideals?

It is a cold winter. How much colder is it for the peasants in your rubble-filled, ice-coated streets, bereft of food from your farmlands and cloth to make beds and warm clothes?

You crow your glory and victories while your harvests rot in the field and your resources garner dust on stymied caravans - because YOU do not feel the burn of hunger in your belly or the cold stealing away your vitality. The perch from which you preen and prance is atop the backs of your own unfortunate citizens, those not privileged enough to slip through the coward Creator's mirror each time their bodies fail.

Your victories are empty. Your home is a shell. And though you, those at the top, feel only glee at what you have wrought, the citizens who are starving, freezing, and beset by Chaos entities daily are suffering for your hubris.

Commonfolk of Spinesreach, there is better out there for you. The asylum of the south is a far better prospect than the asylum in which you live. We have food and shelter for you, and regard for your wellbeing. We stand ready to assist you.

(Maybe don't go as far south as Bloodloch, though, unless bondage is your thing.)

In earnest entreaty,
Aolin, the Twilight Ritualist


Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 4th of Sapiarch, in the year 4 AC.