High Lord Regent Sir Squid Silverain,

The subjugated masses you slaughter daily, were they not the very ones that the gracious, benevolent Light sought to serve a hot stew and rub their weary feet just weaks ago. Truly your senseless slaughter of the 'guards' of El'Jazira only proves that it takes a keen tailor with a love for Sanguine and Stygian to show that the Light's compassion only knows to protect those who tout the gilded and azure of its most zealous.

While the Sanguine Fist oft takes the lead during its rounds to pick off those who have defected from their duties, you have taken the honorable charge of solidifying the fear in those who remain shackled. Showing them that the Light's purpose is self-serving, arrogant, and driven by its own hubris.

I'll have to remind our tailors to outfit the Jaruvians, the people of Tainhelm, and whatever flavor of the week village the Beacon is serving with our finest attire, then our poor novices will not have to trudge near across the seagull excrement, muddy rice fields, and errant beard trimmings to slaughter them any longer. Alas, you will do it for us.

The Military Outpost will remain an icon of the might of the Sanguine Fist. Your efforts strengthen the sandstone foundations in blood, and the Earth drinks deeply of your Slaughter.

May we never know peace,

Imperator Nipsy


Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 23rd of Niuran, in the year 502 MA.