Arcadius,
If you're reading this, then it's probably worked. The seer's cast off, his plane's gone to shit, and you're on your way.
I'll not be seeing you again. Not in this life and not in the next.
We are all of us Pelor's chosen, and he's never asked a man to do more than he can. For some, he asks for only a wee bit of help every now and then. For some, he asks for their sacrifice, perhaps their lives.
But you and I, lad, we're not ordinary people. Pelor isn't some distant bastard we serve. We *are* Pelor, his arms and his mouth. When he wants his will done in the world, *we do do his will*, not the other way around.
It took me too damn long to realize that. I spent a long time in the planes, far from Pelor, I thought.
He was there. Because *I* was there, and where I go, Pelor goes with me.
His will is mine. And for giving him that, he lets me do a damn large bit of good in the world.
There's a trade off. For lads like us, for me and for you, he may ask us to give up even our souls, to walk so much in his light that we'd be willing to never look at it again.
If you're reading this, Pelor's asked that of me. And I'll go, with a smile on my face and peace in my damn head for once. Because I know, clearer than I've ever known, that I'm doing the will of Pelor.
Now I know that you'll be needing to move quickly against the Aboleth, now. But if you could spare a moment and have the wizard teleport you to at least deliver the one to my ex-wife (Ramona. Her name is Ramona), it would be very nice of you. The other letters to lads who aren't here can probably wait until things are done, if they need to.
This is your fight now, lad. Good luck.
Ragnarr
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