To Our Most Holy Potentate, Anselm XI, and the Esteemed Chamber of Our Lady,
By hand of Brother Rasmus, Scribe of the three Pools
“In the high places where stars fall and stone sings, I have found a people shaped by flame and root, and a shrine that defies the laws of mortal craft.”
By your command, I have journeyed beyond our kingdom, and that of Arinn and Thelidor, into the highlands governed by the Verdant Pact—the confederation of the forest elves and plateau-born orcs. Though oft dismissed in courtly circles as antediluvian and disorganized, I must report that their unity is neither primitive nor accidental.
The village of Starfall Ridge, carved into the cliffs of the eastern plateau, is a place of austere beauty. Its people—orc and elf alike—live not in opposition, but in concord. Their customs blend martial discipline with practiced reverence, and their governance is conducted through rotating councils of war-chiefs and nature-priests.
Most wondrous of all is the Shrine of the Sky Ring, situated near the village’s edge. I beheld it at twilight: a floating ring of radiant stone suspended above a circular platform, from which pours a stream of stardust into a consecrated pool. The structure is ancient, likely of orcish origin, yet maintained by an elven priestess. The shrine is said to be of unknown age.
During my stay, I bore witness to a joint ceremony in which three sacred verses were recited. I transcribe them here for your archives:
I. “Born of Flame” — Orcish Hymn of Origin
Recited before forging and battle rites
We were fire before we were form,
Hammered in heaven, cast down in storm.
The land was our anvil, the sky our mold,
We cooled in the dust, but our hearts stayed bold.
II. “The Colossals Wake” — Druidic Warning
Inscribed near the Field of Colossal Beasts
The earth remembers what the stars forget,
And in its bones, the beasts still sweat.
Carved from silence, veined with light,
They rise in dusk, they hunt in night.
III. “Starlight in the Blood” — Pact Ritual Verse
Used in ceremonies of unity
One fell in fire, one grew in root,
Yet both now walk in sacred pursuit.
The beasts are mirrors, the stars are kin,
And the Pact is the breath that binds within.
I did not enter the Field of Colossal Beasts, though I observed it from a safe distance. The creatures therein—known as Star Colossals and Star Behemoths—are vast beyond reckoning, seemingly carved from the land and embedded with starlight. Truly the only image with which the imagination could compare would be that of our Scylla in the middle sea. The soul trembles. Their emergence has grown more frequent and violent.
The commander of the Starfall guard leads hunting parties into the field. His demeanor is fierce yet honorable, and his loyalty to the Pact is unwavering. He shared with me fragments of starlit bone that hum faintly when held. I have secured one to bring back to the Chamber of Stella Maris, pending your approval.
In service of The Most Hallowed Sea Mother,
Brother Rasmus
Scribe of the Three Pools
Seal of Veloria