Good people of Sapience,

As amusing as this pitiful mud-slinging, insult-throwing and
smut-chucking is, I can only sit back and shake my head in wonder. I
wonder, is it even possible for Ty Beirdd's competitors to stoop any
lower?

The temptation to step in and obliterate all of your arguments is
strong, and yet I must bite my tongue in order to allow you to keep some
semblance of a reputation. But fellow competitors know this:

While you wallow in the cesspool of immaturity and pettiness, we sit on
the sidelines already hard at work on our costume design. While you
attempt to upset, insult and offend, we discuss strategies as how to
best tackle this competition. And while you pat each other on the back
for a decent debate, we have already set aside a spot on our mantel for
the glorious trophy.

Your name means nothing. Your status is sullied and your reputation
rubbished. See you at the finish line.

A so-called starving artist,
Keegan de'Ehre-Ithilien


Penned by my hand on the 11th of Mayan, in the year 432 AF.