A Word from the Heart
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Nailed to the closest dead tree to the town gate of each of the three active towns is a copy of this missive
“A message to the people of this Land.
I wished to try and state more clearly a point I think I made badly to the one person I tried to explain it to. A point that recent events made clear to me.
We live in a harsh land, in harsh times. Death awaits each of us every day we rise. None of us know if we will live through the day, if demonic entities will kill us, or our friends. None of us know if Gnolls and demons will invade and occupy our towns, or if elementals will destroy our crops. What we do know, if we are honest with ourselves, is that the struggle will never end. There will always be a new enemy, from the Defiler, to the Weather itself as Auril spreads her cold amongst us. Every day will bring new fears and new struggles. The war between ourselves and the elements that seek to break our spirits does not end.
There is a message though that I recently learnt.
It doesn’t matter.
In the recent tragedy and joy that has befallen Alia Carinesen, whom many of you know, I fetched the body of her husband from the place he had fallen to an unknown foe, his spirit moved on. And then mere tendays later I delivered her of her new son Alathas. How much less joy would there be in Alia’s life today if she had bent her back to the struggle to survive in the daily war this land pushes us into instead of finding the love and happiness she did with a good man?
My point is this. The war and struggle will never end. To put all of the joy and goodness of life on hold for the days of peace that will probably never come, merely means that the burden of these harsh days is upon only your shoulders, not spread amongst those you love and care for. Take the time from battle to be with people in joy. Take time from the struggle to look for love, not hold back for want of a time when you or they will not risk sudden death. It is so clichéd to say that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but I deny anyone to claim that being clichéd makes it any less true.
Do not let war, battle and struggle harden you to the greatest truth of all. If we are not taking time from the fight to love and care and share and enjoy life, then what exactly are we fighting for?
Yours, in hope
Nyda, of the Sisterhood.”
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A masked man, hooded and cloaked in black cloth, pauses for a moment one night to read the posting, and after a moment a smile spreads across his face, visible through the semi-translucent material that makes up the lower part of his mask. The smile is roughly analogous to the smile one would give a child who is avidly and excitedly telling you about their imaginary friend. After taking a moment to enjoy, he moves off through the gates, and into the town.
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A large man in leigon colored plate walks up to the poster and reads in intently. After reading it he pulls out a note book and writes something in neat elvish before finding a messenger boy and sending it off.
