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"Remember us." As simple an order as a guild leader can give. "Remember why we disbanded." For he did not wish tribute or song. No monuments, no poems of war and valor. His wish was simple, "Remember us," he said to me. That was his hope. Should any free soul come across that place, in all the countless centuries yet to be, may all our voices whisper to you from the ageless stones: Go tell the Norrathians, passer-by, that here, by Rustle law, we lie. So my guild died, and my guild tag lost...
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Barely a year ago, long I pondered my guild leaders's cryptic talk of victory. But time has proven him wise. For from free druid to free wizard, the word was spread that bold Deezy and his 300, so far from home, laid down their guild, not just for Antonica, but for all Norrath and the promise this world holds! Now, here on this ragged patch of earth called Overthere, Afeni's hordes face obliteration! Just there the barbarians huddle, sheer terror gripping tight their hearts with icy fingers, knowing full well what merciless horrors they suffered at the teleports and translocates of 300. Yet they stare now across the plain at 10,000 wizards commanding 30,000 free druids! The enemy outnumber us a paltry three to one; good odds for any Rustler. This day we rescue a world from mysticism and tyranny, and usher in a future brighter than anything we could imagine! Give thanks, men! To Deezy, and the brave 300! To victory!
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