Some of you may know me, but most of you certainly do not. I hold no prestigious titles, nor does my name strike fear into your hearts. I am as common a man as any of you. My heart often does not hold the same fury for you as my fellow villagers. I have walked your streets, broken bread with your citizens, and patroned your stores. I call some of you my friends and others my rivals. And I come with a question, though I scarcely expect an answer.

Is this the future your predecessors envisioned when they dreamt of "Progress"? To serve a master who doesn't lift a finger? Your greatest scientists, politicians, and warriors fight and die for the honor to wield a shovel in his namea"ll for the vague promise of a favor to be returned someday. A favor from a mana"or that is what he isa"ho willingly enslaves those he deems beneath him. And I can assure you, he considers you day laborers beneath him.

I know not what dark power Asmodron holds over you to bend your Regency to his will, but it is not too late for you, Hashan. Turn away from this folly. Right the wrong you helped unleash, and help force back the blight. Stand with those who would resist his influence before you run out of time. Do not let your legacy be subservience to this Mad Mage and the pursuit of one man's failed ambition. To poorly paraphrase one fog-addled elder from the isle: "You can be better."

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Miraman, in the year 970 AF.