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Left at the threshold of the Keep of Sunbreak, those that frequent such a place would find an immaculate stone tablet, wrought of bizarrely heavy navy stone tablet. Upon it's surface lie words carved in the common tongue, but an esoteric gleam of might wavered over it's crystaline form, causing the words to shift to a darker tongue for mere moments. Holding such a tablet, one could feel the burden of sorrow of which it's scriber had hewn into each and every word of the text. "To the one known as The Shrike. I hope this reaches you. Ive no real clue where you reside, but I have left this in the only place I know where your kind gather. If those that find this are not The Shrike, then heed the text all the same, for I scribe this as an attempt to educate the ignorant. To contemplate The Enemy. In my Brother's name, do I take up the mantle of Hierophant, Educator, Elucidator. I seek to bring light to the unlearned, though no doubt those that feel the fell handed truth of my cleaving axe see naught what it is I truly wish to teach. I consider myself a savior of the World itself, and all that rest within it. I have taken up, as many before me, and as many will after me, the most burdensome of mantle. The crown of tireless warden to the Umbrage of which I strive weighs heavy, and in times such as this, my dual minds wander to distant, strained memory. A story offered to me, your enemy. Now, you would hardly recognize me Shrike, but I remember you. Amongst the fragments in the ocean, you burn for mere moments before fading, as all things do under the crushing hand of Will. I am one that takes comfort in the sunless hope, the crushing waves of the Shore offer frigid, soothing comfort. An embrace the likes of which I wish all to understand. The Dark devours, but in such teeth there is freedom, safety, and comfort. There is hope for true freedom. And yet, you and your ilk would consider such comforts to be anathema to your ways of life. You find only harrowing fear, for you are unwilling to embrace the truth......the same could be said for me and my ilk. We, who so find your light callous, cold, and unfeeling. You find strength and warmth in such incandescent brightness, just as we find solace and reprieve in the all devouring ebon sea. Yet do we not both seek to save the world? From each other, perhaps...but if only the universal truth of things could be found, perhaps...perhaps. That is what it always comes to. Perhaps. Such infuriating worthlessness is the what if. But even as the over bearing, zealous dogma of my education seeks to grind all hope down, the bleeding wound that I no longer have still spurs me to flights of hope. I would hope we all could join in Truth, yet I know you will never see mine, nor I yours. Thus it is we shall always be seeking to save the world from each other, instead of facing The Enemy. The greater things that spur us all to fight. The lies woven deep in your hearts, and the blinding light that keeps your eyes closed. Thus, with heavy heart do I raise my axe each time, to bring about blessed Truth. Perhaps I am merely feeling sentimental in my stagnation, or perhaps this is a true attempt at saving my enemy from The Enemy...or perhaps the night is merely long, and my long since dead heart stirs against it's own fading. Always the perhaps." Upon the back of the tablet, one could find scripture written within a fell tongue, hurting the eyes of mortal folk to bear witness to, along with a symbol beneath it. The skull of a Goat, horns curled back in noble might, with eyes of swirling black pits that stare back into the viewers own.
