Worms,

You know what you did. In truth, my hatred has, for the most part, been for your master. The rest of you are little more than an annoyance, an irrelevance by the sheer fact of your impotence. Yet what you have done, this once, mattered.

You may consider this your formal warning, and it is not simply to Maeve, as the representative of you clutch of jilted hens. From now on, whatsoever you covet, I will ruin. Whatever you aspire to, I will break. Whatever you love, I will tarnish. Whatever you hold, I will take.

So long as any of you walk this world, you will suffer. You will have no place and no thing that I will not make misery. One day very soon, you will gaze upon all you had, and you will see nothing, for I will gouge out your eyes so that you CAN see nothing. I will cut free your tongue so that you can only wail in silent torment. I will lop off your hands, so that you may never again overreach.

I'm certain you will read this and snigger to yourselves. You will post in reply making blithe comments about how this means nothing to you, because you are Reavers.

Let me clarify. You wouldn't know a Reaver if it pissed in your breakfast. If you think this won't matter to you, lets talk again in a few weeks. I promise you it will.

Ever,

Whirran Mulariad Arcan-Tetzauh

Hammer of the One True King

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 15th of Omeian, in the year 7 AC.