Ah yes, good ol' Aodfionn

I was wondering which organization would be...gifted.. by your next
loyalty. And to be a Lumarch at that! Goodness, things must be more dire
than the informants among you have reported. We watched you squirm and
struggle and try to wiggle your cheeks into our fold. It was a glorious
day when you shaved your head and painted your scalp blue and wandered
around the bog hoping to be welcomed into the Priesthood. When I saw you
as an adult sitting among the younglings and novices, trying your best
to fit in I must admit I was alarmed. I rushed to our leadership with
concern only to be reassured that you wouldn't be going anywhere in the
Occultists or the Priesthood. After that I settled into the rhythm with
the rest, watching your attempts to try to puzzle together the loose
bits of (mis)information we were tossing you from our table. We knew it
wouldn't be long, and it wasn't.

You see, we knew your past. Our eyes were open to reality. Your loyalty
passes hands like the key to a brothel door. It is humorous, however, to
see that your new masters allow you to speak with such authority on a
subject you obviously know very little about. You speak of your time in
the Occultists as though you were something more than the plaything you
were. You may have your puppets in Targossas believing this fantasy,
though you're a fool to publicly declare such without knowing that those
who know the truth will slap your mouth like the child who puts on his
father's clothes and attempts to join the city guard.

I should be careful, I know your inner rage. I experienced this
firsthand while you were kissing the feet of your Eleusian masters.
Goodness, such an angry Troll, your wrath erupted against me for
whatever reason for years. Corpses were littered across the Ithmia as a
result of this rage. We both remember who they belonged to.

You should be embarrassed. Your security is laughable, you'll welcome
anyone who comes to you claiming to have "shunned" Evil or Chaos or
Nature or whatever else will get their names inked into your citizenship
log. You're so eager to brainwash the next subject with your loosely
pieced together bits of nonsense and fabrication. So eager to add a
marionnette to your puppet show that you fail to notice the smirks of
disbelief among those puppets. The whole world has spies living in your
ranks, reporting your plans and actions, copying your texts and filling
libraries with the sermons and ceremonies you're peddling around as
"truth". I don't fear alarming you to this threat because honestly there
isn't much left to report from your inner circles. The serpents
slithering in your grass have already gathered everything we need. I'm
sure you already cleaned up the little marks we've left in your Council
chambers and House estates, little tokens of our presence, if not we
apologize for not making them more obvious to you. It would be a shame
if your servants cleaned them up without you even noticing.

Thank you, however, for bringing our most recent changes to the
forefront of everyone's mind. The current affairs in Ashtan will be
known to the world in the coming years. I'm sure you feel it in your
fingertips from time to time. The perceptive have noticed the difference
reverberating through our world. Like livestock laying down as they
sense the coming change in weather so too do the wise and perceptive
look to the North in curiosity and anticipation.

The crucible of our government can be heard softly boiling away behind
our Council doors, the impurities bubbling to the surface to be scraped
away. You are welcome to our dross, Targossas. It actually pleases me to
see this family gracing your streets, I lit a little candle in your
chapel in prayer that they bring your houses and city the
same ...mmmm... energy they bestowed upon our own houses and city during
our sentence.

The Bastion of Freedom is no more. Look at you, frolicking around like a
new born colt in the pasture now that the City of Freedom has allowed
you out from under her thumb. We give your islands a moment to surface
for air and you fill your lungs with this new found confidence. It looks
good on you, my old friend. It is always fun to play dress up, isn't it?

Eyes to the horizon, brothers. The years approach and soon the dawn will
come, though I fear you'll be disappointed when it isn't the Dawn you
expect. I hope to be there alongside you to watch your face as those
first beams break the horizon, bathing your visage in a colored ray you
were not expecting.

Just as the watchman waits for the morning, we wait.

With open eyes,
[x] Grandue Bloodthroat, The Archon Ascendant

[a small octagon has been inscribed here]

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Phaestian, in the year 703 AF.