The Will of the Triumvirate

[Gnomeh 470]

[!] A short missive, written with elegant calligraphy and imbued with herbal scents of rosemary and sage, were dropped from above by flocks of ravens.

[!] An Ouroboros, the cycle that encompasses all, is marked on the top of the page.   Hark! I beg for thine attention!   As voices of the Triumvirate, it is our duty to ensure that balance is maintained and that the cycle continues. Harmony is within us all. We are one, and we must act as one. We respect the Life and Death, Strength and Surrender, and the Growth and Decay of our kin.   Our duty, as dedicant, druid, and all that seek harmony, must be remembered. Our duty is to listen to the Will of the Triumvirate. Our priority is that of preserving Harmony, in unity. Be it as a collective order or as many who stand alone, our duty binds us as kin. We art all threads, gawk at those around ye, gawk at the trees, the rodents, and the soil.    We art all threads, bound together within a weave, spun by the loom of Harmony. But yet should we begin to forget, the loom at which we art all spun upon falls still, the cycle breaks, and the scales tip over.    Our duty is to harmonise Life, so that it not overwhelm Death, nor Death choke the breath of Life, by the will of the Mother-Maiden.     Our duty is to cull predators so that they not over feast prey, nor prey not grow beyond measure, by the will of the Horned Lord.    Our duty is to nurture Growth, so it not spiral unchecked, nor Decay which would consume all, by the will of The Crone.    We art the guardians that sever the threads that must be cut, by the Will of the Triumvirate.   Sister of the Wyld Creed Follower of the Triumvirates Will

 

[A_Cosmosss 27]

[!]

While returning from her mushroom seeking mission, given to her by a friendly opossum. Her satchel filled with all manner of fungi. One of which she took a good bite, like an apple. The Dryad caught sight of the missive, and despite the turmoil of the events prior and anxiety for all about to come in the future. While a task loomed in her mind, the words bound to the page brought a smile to her lips. 

 

"Blessed be, Ame'llir" Fallyn said aloud, for the ravens to hear, and continued on her way. 

[hearth_ 1023]

The Harvest Druid was quick to find his Dedicant's writings. Though their tones were dichotomous - his own a chattering bark, hers a gentle Harmony - the sentiment was shared.

 

He folded the parchment together again and slipped it into the front page of a freshly bound journal already teeming with the writings of friends, kin, and those Worthy of the Gifts.

 

With a broadening, prideful smile he murmured,

 

"So mote it be. Ahernal Ito."

 

Spoiler

At work so I can't do pretty formatting ):