A dark-robed acolyte enters the chambers of the Temple Investigator and deposits an envelope upon a nearby writing desk. Bowing humbly, he drifts out as quickly and noiselessly as he had arrived.

The envelope carries with it a strong scent of brine tinged with a copper smell that cleaves to the roof of the mouth.

---

Father,

I hope that your fast is passing with minimal pain. I wished to meet with you earlier, on a matter of confession. However, an urgent development has arisen regarding the words spoken unto us by the Voice of the Divine.

Several days ago, the Crossing was invaded once more by the Children of Drogor. Zhirrisk, a long-faithful devotee, ushered the people to the temple. It was our hope that if we prayed to the Mighty Sea God, He might show Himself and wrest control of His Children. As our voices rose in praise and veneration, the scent of the sea suffused the air around us. Softly, like waves upon the sand, a whisper echoed around the chamber, wordlessly. I believe that our worship proved to amuse the Dread God of the Sea, for the sound of the waves merged into a gurgling chuckle as the temperature dropped sharply.

A silence overcame us, then, and the air warmed. The saline scent of the sea carried with it a hint of something peppery and harsh. Then, Drogor spake thus: "Safe. For now. But how much longer?" As the voice faded, the odor of salt and spice became overwhelming and all of us in attendance were rendered senseless, engulfed in a deep slumber.

Upon awakening, Zhirrisk envisioned a portent of destruction centered upon the Isle of Ratha. In his words, "A ship--a cog, if I remember from my brief fascination with sailing--was sailing away, and a wave pulled it beneath the sea, as a storm began to prowl towards the island."

We puzzled over this. What had invoked the Great Drogor's anger after He had just spoken of granting us a respite? We considered it possible that He was now making manifest His true power, that we would know it was He, and no other, bidding His children to shed blood. While I was within the Temple of Eluned on the Island, I was visited by a frightening and violent sensation I had never experienced before or since. There was a brief lightening within my chest, as though something were welling up, though the feeling was all too fleeting. An instant later, a great, rending force smote me from all directions at once, leaving me feeling vaguely empty. When last I was by Drogor's altar on Ratha, I experienced a sensation of being pulled in many directions all at once. However, that feeling was preceded by a flash of The Exalted One's marine-hued lightning and this most recent one was not.

The following day, I heard the Voice of Drogor. Twice His words echoed within my mind as the raging hurricane, and twice I expunged blood and seawater. Several of our brothers and sisters of the clergy were similarly Touched by the Divine. I am sending you, with this missive, the latest edition of the First Land Herald. It contains both the words of Drogor as well as information regarding the reflective stone which we believe is called 'stura atulave.' It is my belief that this is the stone that will bring all into focus through its many distortions, as was apprised to us by the Voice of the Divine.

It appears that the blackened rock given to Kerenelle could be but a small piece of something far greater. Father, is there a chance that another such reflective fragment resides within the Temple's holy artifacts and relics?

I will write to you again should we come across any further developments. As always, I shall continue my rogations and abide by Drogor. Faith, and may we be granted mercy within the Eye of the Storm.

Hisakna'hhs'Izzu'hhr
Whiteburn

---

Within the envelope, a crisp parchment emblazoned with the insignia of the First Land Herald is folded up beside the sheet of pale blue letter paper. (http://forums.play.net/forums/DragonRealms/Events%20and%20Happenings%20in%20DragonRealms'%20Elanthia/In-Character%20Event%20discussions./thread/1811315)