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'The Great Fire of London, 1666' by Waggoner (c.1666–1685) (after)
SCATTERED IN AVAILABLE AREAS OF THE CROWN ISLES PROPER
What was in Wilhelm Wulfmachts eyes when they spoke to Alfred Wulfmacht, their brother? That glistening, that... Softness. Is that pity?
If there was an emotion flooding through the city of Regalia so strong as of this moment, it would be pity. Pity between families divided, friends, Councils, co-workers.
I would sooner pluck those pitying eyes from their very faces.
If there was an emotion flooding through the city of Regalia so strong as of this moment, it would be pity. Pity between families divided, friends, Councils, co-workers.
I would sooner pluck those pitying eyes from their very faces.
My Council,
Perhaps a part of me had wished such was not the case, but I cannot bring myself to ignore the merit and benefits this so called curse has granted me. I've surrendered my material work and education to the sanguine of Greygate.
The Covens,
On this day, the eve of everything you've done to reach this point and its future completion. I honor those who have passed and whose passion and knowledge have brought us to the brink of salvation.
- Lich Lord Xilthruum, a creative force of thaumaturgy without equal.
- Dais of Nocturne and its royalty, an aesthete of transcendent sensibility.
- Its future Lord Crimson Commander, an idol of fervor and dedication.
I offer my material work, and surrender my services in the arts of architecture and infrastructure to you.
My dear Uncle Kabili,
The Empire has lived in fear and ignorance since its inception. Our Drulvaar Ancestors, in their own ignorance, turned their backs on the lessons of Ellador. The Patriarchs before you lacked courage, lacked vision, paying lip service to the status quo while scrambling for approval and comfort within the prison of their meagre. You are not one of those Patriarchs. You are Kabili, the man I hope will honor and respect a neutrality between the Drulvaars during this great change, and who will gather its scattered pieces at the end of this occupation to piece them back together.
To the Drulvaars,
Every step you take should be done with pride and certainty, yet I plead that you do not throw your precious lives away.
My beautiful Mother,
I wish it were not me writing this letter, but I am uncertain of the feelings you are going through or what damage this may cause you, thus I leave you unnamed. I only wish that no matter what occurs from this point on, that you still trust in me and I trust you will refrain from exile like father has despite how much the city may change or the people within.
To the Fence,
For as long as I was being fed upon, my old self was entrapped within a dreamscape of guile. A night terror realm where the landscape of my previous mentality appeared splintered. An aperture between awareness and ignorance. It was enough to make a sane man mad, and a mad man weep, but like a cool breeze which pecks at the cheeks and face where all surrounding noise silences itself, tranquility and understanding have surrendered themselves at my own bloods demand.
Signed Commonly,
Andrathath Vaell'aer Drulvaar
Andrathath Vaell'aer Drulvaar
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