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(Tale Of Yore.) Butterflies with crystalware wings behind dream grace flitted 'neath the skies where the moon silver light occured upon the air. Here, in this sacred space as night deepens and moon paints earth with glow, we recall the legends of our past: eternally criss–cross. Our voices murmur into forest rivulet. May the moon’s reverent beams ever guide @TheStahlbaum, @TheRuneshard, and @Wraitheight steps enlightening the alleyway through life’s ebb and flow. The moments we have partaken, like stellar corse aflame, do leave mark upon the mould through remembrance. Henceforth, all of this serve as tokens through the ageless ties that bind us, plying endless march of time itself. A tapestry, it is, of love and fellowship, wrought with filaments that surmount the confines of space and time’s domain. Let the moon carry our heartfelt wishes, and still shining brightly even amongst the darkest of nights.

                  Fondly, from our hearts to yours,
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ The Howarth. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

(Tale Of Yore.) Butterflies with crystalware wings behind dream grace flitted 'neath the skies where the moon silver light occured upon the air. Here, in this sacred space as night deepens and moon paints earth with glow, we recall the legends of our past: eternally criss–cross. Our voices murmur into forest rivulet. May the moon’s reverent beams ever guide @EchoRidge, @Grachter, @TheVanForth, @EridgeUniversity, @TheNorbury, @Starteenn, @Treamonsure, and @TheEldraeth steps enlightening the alleyway through life’s ebb and flow. The moments we have partaken, like stellar corse aflame, do leave mark upon the mould through remembrance. Henceforth, all of this serve as tokens through the ageless ties that bind us, plying endless march of time itself. A tapestry, it is, of love and fellowship, wrought with filaments that surmount the confines of space and time’s domain. Let the moon carry our heartfelt wishes, and still shining brightly even amongst the darkest of nights.

                  Fondly, from our hearts to yours,
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ The Howarth. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

(Tale Of Yore.) Butterflies with crystalware wings behind dream grace flitted 'neath the skies where the moon silver light occured upon the air. Here, in this sacred space as night deepens and moon paints earth with glow, we recall the legends of our past: eternally criss–cross. Our voices murmur into forest rivulet. May the moon’s reverent beams ever guide @TheZachruelle, @Marcheford, @DynastLands, @GrimOfFost, @Benyies, @TheFinches, @konyolers and @CavalcadeDiFamilia steps enlightening the alleyway through life’s ebb and flow. The moments we have partaken, like stellar corse aflame, do leave mark upon the mould through remembrance. Henceforth, all of this serve as tokens through the ageless ties that bind us, plying endless march of time itself. A tapestry, it is, of love and fellowship, wrought with filaments that surmount the confines of space and time’s domain. Let the moon carry our heartfelt wishes, and still shining brightly even amongst the darkest of nights.

                  Fondly, from our hearts to yours,
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ The Howarth. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ