Old Northern Sapience, 275 AF.
---------

Ravido was broke. Losing all his sovereigns on a night of torrid
debauchery the night before, he usually knew right away what this meant.
Another day spent in the sewers. Another day scratching for scraps of
food. Was Ravido a rat? Nay, Ravido was a grown man, who possessed the
modicum of intellect which allowed him to get by. Not a genius by any
means, but certainly one who would be deemed accountable by local
authorities as possessing knowledge of his own moral turpitude, Ravido
struggled in life.

Back to the sewers then. Rather than being miserable in his situation,
Ravido knew at as mere routine to him. Open the grate, enter the grate.
Fortune waits below. Nothing new here for our young footpad. Still
hungover, and quite possibly still even drunk from the night before, it
was time to press on.

Our story begins with a slimy sewer intersection, below the streets of
Ashtan. If memory serves.

Flecked with small bits of dried excrement, Ravido wiped his face. The
one thing he hated the most about being down here was the vile stench.
In the 270's, water flow in the sewers was a serious problem in Ashtan,
but with the constant war with Shallam, the city leaders were simply
unable to devote any manner of logistics towards thwarting the sloshy
epidemic.

The repugnant brew in which he waded festered with a stench rivaled only
by the crotch of an unbathed Druidic whore. Racing through his mind were
thoughts of clean air and a warm meal, that of which were only afforded
by those foolish enough to tread in these sewers without armed escort.
No point in going home if there is no food or gold at home. Home being a
warm alley outside a warm smelter's shop. Aye, we shall stew for a
while.

Nauseous, but holding on for the prize, our brute clutched his dagger
tightly. His green atavian eyes lightly glowing amidst the darkness.
Like a mouse to unattended cheese, it was time! Moving so very silently,
and catching him by surprise, a mhun was creeping past him to the north.
The small stocky mhun had not seen him, but by no means did it look lost
in these putrid sewers. Letting the mhun creep several yards away,
Ravido ever so slowly stalked his prey.

Time passed and Ravido continued to follow the mhun, unnoticed. The mhun
took a turn towards a large canal to the northeast. Something wasn't
right here, everything looked different today. Oh well. The element of
surprise was something our young brute here was accustomed to. Never
brave enough to duel, but a big advocate of courage in numbers, young
Ravido was not concerned about victory. Opening into a large, dried,
cavern. He allowed the mhun to pace off into the distance. Drats. There
were more of them.

Holding his back to the wall, the young cutthroat observed the slinking
mhun join a group of its friends, four of them in total. Darting his
head to the east, he noticed more movement. Five Atavian warriors. Ahah!
Surely Lord Hermes has smiled upon me today, thought Ruvido.

Eagerly approaching his brethren, his smile quickly dissappeared. These
Atavians had Hashani markings on their arms, likely criminals. What a
horrible decision I have made today, thought Ruvido.

The whip came fast and silently. Wrapping tightly around his neck, and
pulling him to the floor, the group of Atavians rushed Ruvido and pulled
him into the darkness.

"Wait! I only wish to help you slay the mhuns for the treasures!" yelped
the terrorized Ruvido.

Quipping back immediately, and in a thick Hashani accent, an atavian
warrior replied, "Fool. We've been at war for territory with these mhuns
for years. You've walked down the wrong pipe..."

"Welcome to Hashan."

Daggers plunged in and out of Ruvido's body. Severed were both of his
kidneys, unable to even make a peep, blood pumped violently and quietly
onto the floor, the last thing Ruvido ever saw was his own blood
spilling in front of him before all went black, his wings pathetically
shriveling into a clutched, dead pose.

Turns out he was in fact still drunk from the night before, and wandered
into the wrong city. While his cowardly and dangerous lifestyle did him
no favors, sticking his nose in other people's business was his biggest
mistake, and cost him the ultimate prize.

___======___======___======___

Members of Oakstone and Eleusis,

This is your formal warning: Continue to stick your nose in the affairs
of Mhaldor and Cyrene will be met with extreme punishment. Ordus
Incensus Arboris shall act as the blade of retribution for your
contempt. Your children shall perish, your forests will wither, and
-your- so claimed islands shall burn. You have the power to prevent your
own calamity from coming to fruition.

By decree of Tiamat Blades, founder of Ordus Incensus Arborus, if you
are witnessed assisting the city of Cyrene, than we shall meet your
numbers with a new type of warfare and one that will crush your morale
and drive for existence. Your audicty in claming the world as your own
under the guise of "Protecting Nature" is enough, you shall not
-overextend- your grasp and assist the urban environment of Cyrene.

Those who have been wronged by Oakstone, rally to our cause. Fear not
the forest! Fear not your status as a so called "enemy." Stand tall! We
shall fight by your side, with violence of action. CLANHELP MLY for
details.

You have been warned! Do not cause further harm to your own trees and
dirt! Harvest and obedience is all we will afford you!

Infernal Lord Xenomorph,
Operations Officer, OIA

"For our Order and our Founder!"

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Aeguary, in the year 561 AF.