A note is pinned in the corner of the town boards, it's written in a fine ink, yet rough in it's penmanship.
To those whom it may concern,
There are some on this island that believe in harmony, and there are those who wish to destroy harmony. Though there may be an ever constant threat against the lives of those who inhabit this island, there are certain people who should stand out to defend those who they care about. These are the people we lack.
I wander among the people of this island every day in the years that have gone by, watching as the spirit which has kept so many alive diminish from the actions and words of so many. There are those like me who keep fighting for reasons only known to ourselves, and those who share our spirit. We are called heretics, Bloodthirsty demons, even killers. Call us what you will. Words only influence the minds of the weak.
I can only change the hearts of those like me. A Fighter under a master. Though my master can not be seen, only heard. Only heard, when you open your heart to listen. We fight side by side in faith, fighting for the one standing next to you, and fighting for those you wish to protect, no matter the cost. There is no other alternative. I am a wolf who prowls the streets. I am a wolf because of who I serve, how I act, and how I fight.
There are those like me who have lost thier will to fight for what they believe in. They sit behind their walls made of stone, and watch as the inhabitants fight against forces they can not win. They sit in a castle while others die in the streets. The blood that flows through your viens no longer carries the wolf blood it once did. Yet, you sit upon the shrine of my master, pretending to be his faithfull servants. I declare that you have lost your teeth, wolves of master, and that you are no longer worthy. Upon this isle, there is no Paladin nor Knight, no Cleric nor Preist, no Druid nor mage more devouted to their god as we.
Incase I have been to vauge, and you can not understand, I shall lay rest my hand, and write in blunt terms. The Order of the Grey Rose has fallen from their place with Master. And I put forth a call to all those who have lost their bite, their fighting spirit who serve master. I was denied entrance into the Shrine of my master for no reason. I am one of the few wolves remaining on this island. And I will protect those I am loyal to. My master, my family, my town, and My friends by any means necisary. If there are any wolves who wish to prove me wrong, and show me that your teeth are still as sharp as your faith. Then follow your nose, for the wolf blood that runs in our viens binds us all to one another. Through our faith we are one, and through our faith we are protected.
The following is a crest, in the background is a snarling wolf, in the foreground is written:
The Wolves of Malachin
A Strange Note
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