We, of the Divine Order of Lady Pandora, Goddess of Mischief, hereby
declare war on all of Achaea.

These are troubling times, to say the least, folks.

Moments after the scribing of this parchment, the attacks will ensue.

Mothers, protect your children, children, protect your mothers, fathers,
leave your wives and marry your children, instead. They'll listen to
their fathers.

The doomsday bomb created by us from Lady Pandora Herself shall be
detonated. And, as is customary in times of crisis such as these, we ask
that you assume the position, by first lifting up your right thigh,
holding it high into the air. Compliment this by taking the same action
with your left thigh. Now, firmly, but gently, place your head between
the space of your newly ascended thigh muscles, and kiss the mound of
flesh directly beneath your nose.

Achaea, the Divine Order of Pandora, Goddess of Mischief shall no longer
lie abused, broken, and useless, like so many grandmothers I have pushed
off of Mt. Nicator. No longer shall we be treated like the ill-forgotten
food item berift of taste. No more, shall we rot onto the cupboard,
misplaced, or mistreated. We shall stand anew, to face the trials of
whatever Sapience may throw at us.

As my scribe sits here, dictating, Mendax, the Mortal Hand of Lady
Pandora, Goddess of Mischief, is out stealing your panties as you read
this. No, it doesn't really have any relevance to our war declaration,
it's just how Mendax is, and I wanted to give you all a head's-up.

And also to the Jester(s) who left their chariots and giraffee's parked
infront of my news office, I bid you to please remove them, as they are
an eyesore on the green landscape of Achaea, which will shortly fall
under Pandorian rule.

Woe be those who disregard this Declaration of War, for the lands of
Achaea, from the Caverns of the Manticore, to the fun room with the
slides, in the Jester's Househall, will all be ours.

Victory shall be ours!

We will leave no stone left unturned in our search for blood.
And to the stones out there reading this, you have my sympathies. It
must suck being able to read as a stone.

You have been warned, Achaea!

P.S.
Mendax now has your panties. Please message him in an orderly fashion to
have them returned to you at the small cost of an Application to the
Divine Order of Pandora, Goddess of Mischief.
P.P.S
Please also feel free to contact me if you have any questions on the
unavoidable fate that is to befall you, and your community.

Forever in Service,
Agrias de Feura, The Guy with the Eye of a Magpie.

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Mayan, in the year 403 AF.