Reverend Smithe groaned loudly as he sat in his study. Numerous books were piled high both on the table and the floor. Three other priests loyal to the Reverend sat around the room with books on their laps quickly reading over the pages in silence. Smithe slammed his book shut and stood up. He looked around the room at the priests now meeting his stare in silence.
"We have been at this for days!" Smithe exclaimed. "Our window of opportunity fades quickly. And we are nowhere closer to discovering a way to claim immortality." He began to pace around the room, the priests' gazes followed him as he walked. "None of the ways I know of will be sufficient. I must be able to remain here without being prosecuted as a heathen or worse . . ."
One of the priests rose and approached the Reverend. "Reverend, perhaps you are looking at this the wrong way. What if what you wish to achieve, can be achieved directly from the source of your new found power." Smithe paused his pacing and turned to face the priest.
"Of course." Smithe said wholeheartedly. "While I have not seen that elf in some time, my spies send reports from around the world of sightings. I need to wait til she is in Stormwind once more. We will set our net in the water, and wait for the fish to come to us. Once it has, we strike!" A smile slid across the Reverend's face. The others priests stood and approached as the first had done.
Smithe lifted up his hands in prayer. The others joined him. "May the Light guide and protect us in our mission brothers. May we be rewarded with what we seek. Thus we may serve the Light as its eternal servants." He lowered his hands and the others followed suit. The Reverend bowed his head in reverence. He then looked an elder looking monk standing among the group. "Brother Paxton, you are close with some of the leaders of our faith are you not?"
"Of course Reverend. I have served them since I was but a boy. Many of them are my close friends." The Reverend's smile widened. He handed Brother Paxton a sealed envelope bearing the Reverend's wax seal from his days in Gilneas.
"Take this to our brothers. Convince them of our mission. It is not just us who will gain if our mission is successful. Perhaps all servants of the faith might join us in immortality as well." Brother Paxton took the letter and started off toward the cathedral. The Reverend looked to those around him once more as Paxton left the room. "Most loyal followers, our time has come. For when our plan succeeds, we will be both immortal, and leaders of the very faith itself. Then and only then will our true mission be at hand."
To our most holy leaders,
I have served the Light for many years, as have many of you. Alas our time on this world is limited to do the work of the light. It will be a sad day indeed when I must bury or be buried by you my brothers. A time for change is at hand. We have a chance to alter the future for the better. Without fear of death. We will lead the followers of the Light for many more years to come if you but listen to me hear and now.
You have trusted me on assignments that challenged my loyalty to the faith. Now I ask you to trust in me. Rally as many as you can. Any true son or daughter of the Light, no matter how zealous has been called to Stormwind on one final crusade to protect our way of life. Once, the light marched on Icecrown. Our numbers have been diminished since then, but now there is another enemy that beckons at our door.
An old God responsible for the plagues around the world has risen for one terrible purpose. Darkness has called out, and we will answer! By the Light, we should not let this opportunity pass us by. Join me brothers. For if you, so high and holy within the walls of the cathedral would embark on this crusade, then so would servants of the light in all corners of the world.
Brothers, may the Light guide you during your period of thought. I pray you respond to my request in time. For if you don't, then I will stand alone against the tides of darkness in defense of the Light.
Reverend Jameson Smithe,
Loyal Servant of the Light
Woldemar Steyer, The Blind Seer