Citizens of the Territories of Mhaldor, be warned.

Those who participate in combat while largely outnumbering Ashtani fighters, or defile the shrines of the Lord of Oblivion in great numbers, will be mercilessly and ruthlessly hunted down. I will find you, and I will turn you into a fine meat paste. My honour is paramount, but those who show none towards me will be shown none in return. So far, I have had few experiences that I would consider honourable. Your Tyrannus is an obvious exception to this trend, try harder to be more like him. Regardless, I will make you sick of the Fifth should you continue your path of hiding and running while the odds are even, only to re-emerge when you have added enough pathetic cockroaches to turn the fight in your favor.

Should you repent, and embrace decency in combat, I will drop this matter. Until then, I will continue to strike you all down with the ease that I have been thus far.

Enjoy your victories while you can. You can't earn them by yourself; thus they are hollow. Sapience sees you for the weak, pathetic, blubbering crybabies that you are. This path ends in only one result - total annihilation of your morale. I can assure you, I will not be the one crying out to the Gods for salvation in the end. I can assure you, you will be the ones crying foul. I can assure you, I will ruthlessly cut you down, regardless of your standing in the city.

Act with decency, and you will get shown some. Act with cowardice, as you have been, and you will be treated like a coward. Trampled underfoot, left to rot by your city-mates as they flee back to the safety of your guards. Should you wish to learn how, look towards your Tyrannus.


Penned by my hand on the 21st of Phaestian, in the year 960 AF.