Closing the door, opening my mind

For over a decade of my long life, I proudly wore a White Rose on my lapel.  To some, it was just a flower.  To others, it was a sign of hope, and of better days to come.

Today that rose has withered and crumbled to dust, now nothing more than a memory and a few fleeting friendships.

I had faithfully served three speakers, three vice speakers, and weathered the storms which rocked the world.  Lyras, Naarg, Vorclaf’s death, the destruction of Ulf’Hara keep…Those were the times when the survivors looked up, and saw the White Rose of Hope sifting through the rubble, and they knew that salvation was at hand.

Those days are now behind me, as an old man is faced with a decision, to tear himself between groups of old friends, because someone else feels it’s wrong to be friends with both.

[Vansiil holds his crystal-tipped scepter proudly before him then slowly lowers it to the ground to rest at your feet.
Vansiil casts his gaze to the ground as your membership badge crumbles to dust.]