Brother,

By the sounds of things, it would appear that Your followers are feeling
rather afraid. Cowering in that little underground cesspool they call a
home, like a bunch of lepers afraid to show themselves for what they
truly are.

The reasons for this war are unimportant. The terms of Your surrender,
however, are. And I shall have them, after My Chosen finish beating
Yours into the dirt that they seem to have such a fondness for.

Let those who spurn My gifts feel the terror My hands have shaped.


Penned by my hand on the 12th of Lanosian, in the year 304 MA.