It was long ago that Ienlaerune, Imbrae and myself became the first in a
Fellowship the likes of which the world had not seen before, and has not
seen since. Concieved as a union of those without guild, and those
without place in this world, its message even reached the Divine,
despite its short life. Then the clan fell. The dream had become
corrupted. It had lost its course and as such doomed itself to failure.
And so closed the brief footnote in our world's history: Its members
dispersed, it's memory began to fade, and I wandered for years without
home or occupation, wounded by the shards of my broken dream.

As I wandered near the edge of suicide my thoughts never left that
dream. And now in retrospect I see that the Fellowship was not the story
of the guildless in this world. It was the prolouge.

And it is with this realization that I call upon those who once
supported the Fellowship to assemble once again. From the poorest of
paupers to the Divine themselves, if there is any hope left for those of
another life, let it be known! The guildless, and any who sympathize
with them must assemble again! And at last we will have purpose: Not to
emulate the guilds, not to pretend, but to let our voices and our
ambitions be heard by even the Gods! And so at last will we find our
place in this world.

I call upon all who walk this world to donate what you will: your time,
your supplies, your money, even your sympathies. If all you have to
offer is a letter of your support, send it! Together we can shake the
world and make a home for those who have nothing! Together we can mend a
broken dream, and together we can bring new possibility to this world!

-Once known as the Guildless, Arek Verruil

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Aequitas, in the year 437 AD.