Bloodloch,

You are not the monster you think you are, nor are you the ultimate power you believe.

Any fool with a horde large enough can think he is strong, until he meets enough resistance, until his might has been chipped away. Your excuse for war, your penchant for blood, your pursuit of subjugation will gain no more traction.

Call your insults, continue to build your wall. Continue your assaults, and your raids. The indication is in the mounds of dead guards, husks and corpses I stepped over in my pleasant stroll through your city. You are not so effective as you would like to believe.

As for your demands. I stand on behalf of one I hold dear, a former slave, and say this - THE NORTH IS FREE. IT WILL ALWAYS BE FREE. You will find no acquiescence to your demand for power, no willing ally in your depravity!

You will know no rest! You have the war you forever seek in other cities. Your guards, your troops will earn their keep tenfold for your pursuits!

For your own arrogance, for your own lust, your city will earn their keep. There is no man, woman, gremlin, cook, nor whore that resides within your city that will not feel the wrath of the Dragon. Deigning to draw us down to your repugnant hubris will not fare you well.

You win many pitched battles, yes. There is much strength within you, there is no denying this. Yet only an idiot general sits atop his laurels, his past victories, and thinks he has won the war. Your efforts have garnered you nothing, but the stirring of a Dragon.

I am watching. I am waiting.

You will continue to feel Our wrath.

Kind regards,

Aros Riahl,
Strategos
The White Rose
Smith of the Storm

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 12th of Lanosian, in the year 505 MA.