Greetings,

I cannot help but to find the irony of the drivel being spilt upon good
parchment. You bring the word of "thug" to the pen, yet how many
innocents have you killed Pharaus? Does the blood not still drip from
your blades of the fairies and mhun? Do the innocents not still hang
crucified in Mhaldor, a city which you have aligned yourself with? There
is always a chance for repentance, an offer which only the light can
give, and a forgiveness for the sins of the wicked. I make no claims of
innocence on my part, or on my brothers and sisters. We have all done
wickedness, the difference is whether you live in it, or flee from it.
How carnal is thine desire Hashan? A Crown of the Ithmia indeed you are,
earned as the famous harlot to the filth of the West, paid with blood
money and run as a den of petty thieves.

As for you, Corbeaux, I find my words few to those of your stature yet
nonetheless I shall give them. You speak of Shallam as a wench, yet is
it not you that sold yourself to Evil? I remember you vividly, a poor
spy and a terrible warrior. Your mind is weak Corbeaux, ever since I
knew you as a Dawnstrider you strayed and often to wherever you could
find coin, even if it was stealing from a house youngling fund. A home
you have indeed found in Mhaldor and the Naga, a fitting place for a
rotten maggot ridden apple such as yourself.

A final word now, to innocent, heretic, and heathen alike. I gather the
feeling that many of you have grown complacent in your comfort. It seems
that for centuries now, it has become common practice for the innocent
beings of creation to be defiled with filthy hands. This shall not be
tolerated any longer, the winnowing fan has been spread wide and the
threshing floor made. As with any foul deed, justice must be served for
wrongs done, or atonement must be given in the form of repentance. For
those willing to serve creation in this way, that creation may be
protected from the heathen and heretic, the Qashar are recruiting. Put
aside cowardice and faintheartedness fellow legacies of creation,
there's much work to be done. May the light shine, or the pyres burn
with you, the time is now, repent or else find yourself purified.

Signed,
Platonus La'Mosea

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Phaestian, in the year 526 AF.