I, Anaia Valos, scribe and Nuy'dian to Lord Cylad, God of Time and Fate
write this missive from the Temple Library, whilst I look at the tapestries
depicting the history of Tharel.

I love my city, the wondrous city of Naerlan, a home to so many races and
classes of people, the rich and poor, the titled and untitled masses, each
living together in a somewhat harmonious relationship and I think back sadly
to the wars we have fought in the name of our Gods.

To think, one small rod, the titled 'Rod of Destruction', is responsible for
all the warfare, with losses for each side, some more upsetting than others.
My brother, Ivilis, a powerful monk fell, slain by the power of the
assembled rod, as Yorkin, the pixie mage, wielded it. Yorkin himself, unable
to harness the power and destroying himself. Ergath, the troll and ex
Styrian leader thought himself above reproach and retrieved the Rod, trying
to use its power and failing miserably. Many mortals were killed but those
in Murcaste, Home of the Gods, took the most damage, the losses of Gedria,
the Mother Goddess, Crifus, the Sun God, Kiara, the Goddess of White Magic,
Sainos, the Mad God and Vallien, God of Honor sending shockwaves throughout
Tharel.

Our lives will never be the same, towns and cities in ruin, while others
seemingly appear out of nowhere, political intrigue and an unsteady
semblance of peace lie on the surface. Below it, I fear, the undercurrents
of a new war threaten us. No one is safe while the Gods fight amongst
themselves, sending us mere mortals to retrieve the shards and splinters,
offering us high rewards if we find them.

As I write this, more titled persons ascend the power ladder of Naerlan, new
Dukes and Duchesses build their homes, open their shops, ply their trades
and new religious leaders overshadow old ones.

Yet still I write this, with an offer of welcome, an offer of a home for
those that wish to come. An offer to fight against good or evil, an offer to
stand by the sidelines if you prefer. An offer to adventurers new or old. An
offer to lead or to stand side by side with those of a temple, an offer to
take part in a history still being written.

Signed this day, The 5th in the Month of Nightraven's Curse, in the Year 700

Anaia Valos.

Guardian of Eternity.