To the so-called 'Great,'

Thrice I spit to the winds to levy this to you.

Your coinpurse will become empty.

Your scribing hand shall shrivel.

Your eyes will weaken with tears.

Whatever you think you may do to stop us, whatever dream of your empire exists in your foolish, little mind, know this.

We are Life and Death. We are the Wilds. Only we endure forever.

Savor the fact that your purpose is to feed She-Who-Is-Hope.

So say I,
Gyrinno Lote
Presiding Voice of the Heartwood
Preceptor of the Void

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 13th of Dharos, in the year 6 AC.