Convocation of Silvermoon

Sebastien recieved the last memo with a sigh. 

"No word from the others, eh?" he asked, looking to the apprentices around the room.  No one dared respond until one of the younger, bolder fire students spoke.

"They're calling it extended leave to attend to duties in the field, sir.  Convocate-General Firatril's tendered a formal resignation, same with Featherfax and Prideux.  No word whatsoever from LaMont."

Kerwin closed his eyes solemnly, taking a long, patient breath.  "Then the situation has become as we feared.  Gentlemen and ladies, inform your superiors.  Operation Al'ar is now in effect."

Posted in the Silvermoon Gazette, the Silvermoon Sentinel, and near every paper of repute.  In response to an Anonymous letter ( http://www.rp-haven.com/story/silentfox/anonymous_letter )

Unto the Citizens of the Blackened Woods and people of Quel'Thalas -

I feel your suffering more keenly than you may believe.  For centuries I have myself fought against the Amani, from the initial troll wars that brought about our first meetings with the base Humans, through the wars of our more recent age.  I fought the Scourge as they advanced through our lands, and it was only after being rendered unconscious from a near fatal injury that my own brother dragged me from the front.  I suspect I will fight the Amani and study the craft of War as a reality of our times until the day I die. 

Begin Recording.

It's ironic, it would seem, that a device such as this has become so helpful to me, another little bauble Ixidos had been coming up with.  Such a fine researcher, that boy, if only he had the mind to lead...but I digress.  I record this speech from my sanctum, warded away from the world and its thousands of other recording devices called eyes, ears, and minds.  For so long, I have lived in the public gaze, always swift to recognize my face to the world first.

I have served our people for thousands of years.  I am a very, very old elf, and I know my time is finite.  These are...difficult thoughts, to be sure. 

By Risael Salvius

Good evening Silvermoon, it's wonderful to see you all again here, reading my column.  And yes, I can see you all, it's called Scrying, I love what you've done with your hair. 

((The letter seems to be written in a high form of calligraphy, usually used when transcribing books. Letter below the break.))

  Thaerin perched on top of a tower overlooking the vast expanses of Silvermoon City, though it now lay half in ruins, and half with all of it's past glory. His mentor had just been called back to the front to battle the Scourge, and Thaerin was a free man. For a bit he had tried to find his place in the world, but to no avail. Then a thought had struck him: there was a city to the far north, one he had once lived on the streets of, that had been struck with a crisis in his absence. A city whose Prince had abandoned them, and the greedy politicians underneath had seized control of in his absence. Being shaken from their homes and places of comfort was a fitting punishment, indeed...

   But that wasn't enough for Thaerin.

Aelitha sat up and stretched, pulling her arms above her head with a yawn, her back popping before lowering her arms. Looking around at the series of blue, silk covered beds she realized that she must have slept late again because they were all empty, and made.