Dragon of the North,

Mourn your dead, suffer the indignity of defeat, and know that you have none but yourselves to blame. Your boundless depravity and gleeful perversion disgusts the Wilds, and you actively fight against the renewal of lands scoured by Spirit and Shadow. Blinded by Pride, you chose to provoke while your own throat was bared.

Now that throat is torn out, and your shattered army serves our purposes instead, more useful in Death than they ever were in Life. Struggle all you like, the Wilds still extracts our due recompense. Learn from your failures, if you still have wits unsullied by Shadow's rot.

Dia'ruis has no need for Pride. Her skies belong to a far greater Wyrm.

PS - Find a new Strategos. One who doesn't leave every one of your soldiers unattended as a flock a sheep for the wolves to devour.

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 17th of Haernos, in the year 509 MA.