To my fellow Outcasts.

I hope you will forgive my presumption at writing to you all and addressing you as fellows despite my status as an initiate. I have asked razs gudriva, the Wiseman, for permission to start collecting some of the tales of the Tribe. Facts are facts and a historical record is a valuable thing but it has been my experience that people respond more directly and with a more genuine heartfelt emotion to stories as they can connect to the themes and feelings contained within them, themes that transcend creed, race and political affiliation. The soul of a people is revealed by its poets and with such vitriol directed at the Tribe despite the coming union I thought it would be nice to be able to respond in my own way, rather than with stony silence or an upturned nose.

So if anyone could spare a little time to sit down with Chinoa and I to tell a tale or two, or just give me some details of story that I can flesh out I would appreciate it. It also might be a nice chance for the two of us to get to know those of you that we have not had the opportunity to spend much time with yet.

Zernawk diena,

Naea Ssuvienne

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But there's a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look'd upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Wither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?