Mortal,

I know not what silly apparitions have come to you and given you the
false hope that any of the Consanguine would give in to such a petty
individual as yourself and your little group of rebellious cattle, but
frankly it is absurd. You've shown yourself time and time again to be
nothing but a coward and a cheat. Even your own Sultan has said to me
that he wishes you were never elected. I cannot say I blame Terant, you
are going to get your entire city killed with such foolish threats. The
tables have turned, you say? I have seen none amongst you who have come
out to fight, nor do I expect to. But mark my words, I do hope you
muster up enough courage to leave your city walls, for such actions will
only serve to further appease my own hunger.

Consider this a challenge, Strung. Call your Holy War. See how long your
fragile souls last against the undead hordes of Bloodloch. Those of you
hiding behind Strung's words in hopes of little retaliation, I say but
this. The shadows are our domain. Try to hide as best you wish, but
you'll never succeed. Daytime, nighttime, it really does not matter in
my eyes. You may as well begin this petty campaign now, I'd hate to get
your hopes up.


Prince Zahmekoses Nebre'seir

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Lleian, in the year 55 MA.