"...but the TRUTH remains!" Spittle frothed at the corners of Proficy's mouth as he peered between two flail-wielding knights and shouted as loud as he could through the gates of Mhaldor.

Awkward silence hung like the red taint as the man craned his ear for a reply. Any reply would do. When none came he began to pace. "I am the Dread HAND. I am the DREAD hand. I am THE Dread hand.", he told himself. Nearby, Entaro tightened his hands into small fists as he listened. His eye twitched when Proficy went on to comfort himself with the claim of being the best Dread Hand to ever exist.

"They will stop using OUR names or they will suffer MEEE!" The vein above the small man's eye bulged as Proficy shrieked his threat at the ground between his feet.

Entaro comforted the enraged miner, dabbing the foam at the corner of his mouth with the hem of his cloak. Proficy's lips quivered in anger. The thin flaps of mucus-slavered flesh reminded the Tyrannus of two slugs mating and his stomach lurched, halting his cleaning of the man.

"Yes, you are quite terrifying and I am sure that would work, but let me try another approach first. When I threatened them the first time it only resulted in them laughing and more of them taking up our names.", the Tyrannus cautioned.

"This time, we will pretend that we are HAPPY they are taking our family names. This will of course force them to stop using them!" Entaro grinned, visibly proud of his cunning.


Penned by my hand on the 10th of Sarapin, in the year 899 AF.