Greetings, Sapience. Today, I come to you regretfully bearing news:

Let's start with some recent history. Some of you may remember the fateful BOOK 16; if you don't, allow me to explain. Santar, after stealing from me, decided he would play a game with me. We started a rivalry, and he opened a betting book on it. The terms were thus: should I kill him any time between then and the year 844, a decade hence, he would return in full the gold he owed and rescind the rivalry; which, I will point out to you, benefits only him. I need no additional reason to take his life, by the law of the Gods.

In our first encounter hence, I took his life soundly and walked away victorious. He refused, abjectly, to return to me my gold or rescind the rivalry. To his credit, after he cooled down a bit, I got my gold firmly in my pack. To this day, we remain rivals, despite the promise he made to the world.

In many encounters since, we have had some fantastic fights. I was beginning to enjoy them...

Then, on this day, the 12th of Valnuary 837, Santar had enough! After all of his whining, bitching, and deal-capitulating, he couldn't deal with the embarrassment any longer. After being enlightened to the truths of the universe hence and so forth, Santar Darkwind, of the Forestwalkers took his own life while wallowing in his own misery, caught just a step out of time.

He will not be missed.

Ever more than I was before,
Nemesian Parthenope, Preeminent of Antipathy

Penned by my hand on the 12th of Valnuary, in the year 837 AF.