Jinxsta,

Your attempts at manhandling Mhaldor to remove the Red Fog that Lord
Sartan has graciously bless our lands with are laughable at best. To
think you, a single forestal, Dragon or not, could influence a city to
devoted to the Lord of Evil as much as Mhaldor is...well, I haven't
chortled quite that much in a long time. I, as a citizen of Mhaldor and
one who observes the Seven Truths, happen to like the Fog. It's quite
enjoyable to romp through, actually...you should try it some time. The
tingle on the skin, the joy of knowing that the land has been touched by
Lord Sartan...that is something that you will never know, I'm afraid.
For you see, Jinxsta, you are Weak. Oh, you may be a decent fighter, and
one that I cannot yet slay by myself...but you are Weak. You think that
you are important enough to feel that you, of all people, could actually
sway those in the City of Evil to your wishes. Yet, behind that is a
deep seeded fear, one that all people of the Forest posses. Our Island
has no plant life, nor will it anytime in the foreseeable future. And
you can't do -anything- about that. Whatsoever. It is not merely an
extermination that you can use Grove powers on to restore, nor something
that you can re-plant. No matter how many guards you slay, Jinxsta, no
matter how many citizens you kill when raiding my city...you know in
your heart that there is nothing you can do. And that, my friend, is
weakness. You will never rid Mhaldor of the Red Fog, nor will your
attempts to remove it lead to anything but your own death. And you will
die, rest assured. No mortal lives forever, not even a Dragon such as
yourself. Indeed, the Lord of Evil has blessed you with your true form,
Jinxsta, for all of Sapience to view: That of the Maggot you are.

Coran Nostradamus

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Chronos, in the year 347 AF.