All this time I thought you were just a pompous, arse kissing, egotistical, toothless wine-wench. Now I see you are a Deacon as well.

You silk stocking full of shit.

Begone with you and your newest rewriting of hypocrisy, you blood-smeared turd, and may a drunkard spoil with his vomit any place you might find refuge.

None can claim to be greater enemies of Creation than your Bloodsworn Liars. Their renowned displays of emotional turbulence and tumultuous tantrums are but feeble echoes compared to the grand spectacle of their mad fervor to expunge Creation of the life-giving and animating essence of Chaos. Their foolish aspiration to reduce Creation to a lifeless husk ensnared in perpetual stasis will never come to pass.

Your proclamations on the use of Devotion and Excision are nothing short of an autocratic manifesto, a display of dictatorial control disguised as a benevolent "gift". The audacious premise that access to these skills is subject to arbitrary scrutiny and approval is a stark reminder of the oppressive atmosphere you seek to cultivate in the East.

You fool no one. You are a worm that thinks himself a serpent just because he slithers, but you lack the subterfuge and cunning to pull the wool over anyone's eyes. You are a sheep in sheep's clothing.

The thinly veiled threats scattered throughout your missive, warning of the capricious revocation of Devotion and Excision at the Deacon of Celestia's whim, echo the tactics of tyrants. This so-called "gift" is a leash, tethering individuals to a path dictated by the whims of your rather than a genuine opportunity for spiritual growth. I expected nothing less for such lambs being led to the slaughter by the Bloodsworn Liars.

The guidelines for excommunication read akin to a paranoid manifesto, condemning those who dare to dissent from your prescribed dogma or explore alternative paths as enemies of Targossas -- a glaring testament to your brand of hypocrisy.


Listen closely to a proper decree devoid of all the flowery lies you perfume your shite with:

Doom will cast its shadow on you and all of the sycophantic lambs who prostrate themselves before the abomination that is the Bloodsworn Liars. The harbinger of destruction will descend upon Targossas, unleashing a tempest of cosmic wrath that will sweep away the vestiges of your misguided authority. The echoes of impending doom reverberate, heralding the unraveling of your oppressive reign. May you bear witness to the cataclysm that awaits, a torrent of reckoning for those who tread the path of tyranny.

I swear it with one heel on the Righteous Fire's own foreskin.


[X] Grandue Xeh'ria, Keeper of the Iron Crown

[A small octagon encircles a raised "II" here, inscribed in thick, amethyst ink]


Penned by my hand on the 18th of Chronos, in the year 939 AF.