Dear Lord,

Which Lord? You are Deucalion. You were Dunamis. You are the Divine Conflagration and the Righteous Fire. You were, and are, Saosh. Justice that Was. Justice that Is. What to call You. Have You considered consolidating names and titles?

No, I daresay it's convenient to know which name or title to highlight a particular emotion. Deucalion when You are indifferent. Righteous Fire when You are irritated. Divine Conflagration when You are angry. When You are happy...well I suppose Dunamis since that was when You last showed that particular emotion.

I ramble but not without purpose. I am distracting myself. Focusing my mind so I think upon that which is insignificant rather than ponder the twisting horror I see whenever I am still for too long. The wrongness that gnaws at my brain until I cannot take it any longer and must act.

The Caefir tell me I am confused. The Aarashi look at me as if I am mad. I hear constant whispers in my mind, telling me that all around me are deceivers. That I must strike and continue my Lord's work. Other voices tell me I must rest, I must compose myself. Still others that I must come aid them. I know not what is real and false any longer. I can only trust my senses yet my senses tell me of a state of affairs so dire as to prompt the question - why haven't You come?

A splinter fell with Coelano to the Prime, landing in Cyrene. I believe this must be the source of the contamination run rampant. I brought Your Flame to the city but it was apparently not in time to stop the spread. I sought Ashtan, believing it to be feeding this madness somehow yet I faltered, the bone deep weariness that has come over me prompting me to rest.

When I struck out again for the latrine of Chaos, I noticed the filth had spread to the forests so I brought Your flame to them as well. The forestals, ignorant as always, doused them. I was quite distressed, however, to see some Targossians aiding them! I spoke with them though and once they understood, they aided me. I rested once more and still, You had not come.

My memories blur at this point. My exhaustion is such that I can barely trust my own mind. Hashan's contamination was such that it caused an explosion of some sort, visible from leagues away. They tried to slay me when I arrived but the Targossians arrived and we engaged in glorious battle. After this it all gets even more confused. I know I went to the forests again and I believe the Avatar was dousing Your flame...that hardly seems possible though. And then another Targossian bit me I believe? It is hard to say what was real and what is a dream at this point.

Mhaldor asked for my assistance in dealing with some sort of Chaos infestation yet the Caefir told me it was a trap. If it was it was a poor one as I arrived to find a deserted city. But that was before and this is now and now, I am writing this letter. This letter that is too long. This letter I am using to distract myself from the constant whispers in my head. And from the question that rings more loudly than all.

Why haven't You come?

Were You still the Justice That Was Playful, I would say You likely were "distracted" by some Aldar or another. It calls to mind that one time You were supposed to be attending the benediction of Archprelate Stickuphisass - no wait, Stophalus. I always confuse the two. Anyway, You were supposed to be there as the Lady Justice's representative, remember? I suppose we were there to look impressive flanking You! You and Your Knights always did cut an impressive figure. I half think You weren't sure whether You kept us around primarily for our fighting prowess or it aiding Your ability to turn the head of Hayliel. Or Ahiah. Or Aravae come to think of it.

Anyway, right before we were to leave, You decided we should do a last minute patrol of Naiter and we turned up that nest of cultists. Short, but bloody work that was. Naturally we had no time to clean up after so there we are, dripping gore and who knows what else on the floor of the main apse of the Basilica. They were so mad at us and we could barely keep from laughing. It was good for them to see what actual Knights look like after an actual battle rather than the fake battles the Templars obsessed over. Fairly sure You got an earful from the Lady though! Not that She could stay mad at You for long the way She doted on You, the golden child of Her heart.

What was I talking about? Oh. Why haven't You come? Can You not sense what is happening on the Prime? It is beyond Your Vessels ability to handle. You are not the playful spirit You once were so I know if You are not here, things must be much more dire elsewhere. Still.

I really think You should come soon. I am so tired.

Ever Your faithful servant,
Haldoran La'Saen

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Summary: Haldoran La'Saen, a follower of Lord Deucalion beseeches his Lord to come cleanse the Prime plane and recounts his adventures in cleansing Cyrene, the forests, and Hashan and his state of exhaustion and confusion.


Penned by My hand on the 6th of Sarapin, in the year 756 AF.