An Open Letter
to the Residents of Tel’Ruid

For some time now, I have lived near you. I have watched you. I have taken the time to know some of those among you. But in the background, there has always been a distrust. I have tried to act in goodwill toward your community, returning your wounded and providing access to information in my library, but it has gone unnoticed or unappreciated. I have been at a loss in this matter.

Now, I am coming to you with the greatest of open hands. I entrust you with the secret of my past.

It has been many years since I was enslaved into the service of an evil entity. Many of you have studied this creature. He is called by some “The Lord of the Dead”. Others refer to him as a “Collector of Souls”. But to me, he has always referred to himself as “Baal’morda”.

I take no pride in relaying my part in this menagerie. I was a slave to his hungers, and in turn, he filled me with hungers of my own. I was fed from the life of others for more years than I would care to count. It was a torturous existence — killing mercilessly so that I might see another day, knowing that only eternal torment at the hands of a daemon awaited me if I did not sate that hunger. But I am no less a murderer, despite my reasons. I deserve nothing less than death for the lives I have taken.

And it is because of this that I now hand this information over to you:

Long ago, a ritual was performed that weakened Baal’morda almost to the point of death. I have seen the writings recovered by some of you that explain this ritual. It severed his link to others like me — others who fed him through the fulfillment of their own hungers. When those Scions fell, Baal’morda himself had to intervene in order to save himself. And so it was that the crucial reagent in this ritual was lost...

I am not writing to make a plea for my case. I know that I am damned. I only wish to be free from this monster, no matter that I will die as a result. And so I offer to the people of Tel’Ruid the final element in the ritual to defeat Baal’morda. I offer you the Silver Ginseng.

I await your response.

~ Trenton Sythe ~