My fortunate friend,

I must say, I am impressed, I did not realise how tightly your leash has
coiled around The Lady Lorielan. You have foiled a young man who
believed he was at his prime. Through this, you have brouth upon him
failure, and thus, indirectly aided him to growth. Ransom was a young
misguided soul, and you used him as your pawn, thus he took his life
into his own hands, and proved, that even if he lacks yet the mental
prowess to pull a heist of such proportion, he has the will and
dedication to. We, The Family, gladly have scooped him up, and unlike
you and your pathetic little gang of wannabe shadow-walkers, shall aide
him to grow more than you could ever even dream.

As for you, you are a pathetic weak little ingrate Feral, who must rely
on the aide of the divine to see what you and your foolish followers see
as the 'truth'. You follow the Goddess of Knowledge, defend her
vehemently, and yet... YOU, my challenged compadre, know nothing. You
are unable to care for yourself, yet claim to care for a guild, when in
truth we all know you are nothing but Lorielan's little pawn, being
moved along the board, the ever watchful eye of the world getting ever
closer to your worthless hind. And when it sees you, Feral, it will
destroy you. And as for your Goddess, She does not sit well with me
either. Her deception of you, and your lack of respect for me, has led
to harsh consequences for many in this realm, as I'm sure you have by
now noticed. In time I will catch you both. I will get Her through the
destruction of Her shrines, perhaps even Her temple if I can find a way
*evilgrin*. You will be a much simpler task, as I will see to crushing
you, feeding you to the hounds, treating you like the pawn that you are.

You see, Feral, I told you back when I lived under the constraints of
your guild, this world has, in the end, only two types of people. Pawns
such as yourself, and masterminds like me, who move pawns, such as
yourself, with a gentle flick of our wrist. When your usefulness runs
out, Feral, we will brush you aside, like is done with all pawns. Like
was done with every political pawn through the course of history. In the
end, Feral, you will fall, and when you do, I will be waiting. Except...
you will not be picked up by my generous and compassionate hand, rather
I will crush your skull on the streets that you call your home, driving
my foot through the head of your sorry carcass, so that all may smell
the wretched stence of the brain of the most impressionable and weak
mind of Achaea. You will make a lovely example to the weak Feral, and
teach them for years to come why the weak should stick in their place
and serve people like me. For you know Feral, in the end... people like
me always win.

Now you may question as to the reason of this ranting. Tis is simple my
feeble minded foe, it is to warn you... as I am now done with the
Mojushai, they have grown to learn the error of their ways. Now I am
after -you- personally. And I shall see that you fall hard, and that you
never stand up again. Fear me Feral, for I am the alpha of your mother,
and the omega of you personally.


I am my own man Feral, perhaps it is time you learn how to be your own,
before it truly is too late,
Lord Darknight Sioraiocht, the Dominator

May the Family live long and prosper!

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Chronos, in the year 313 AF.