Luthyr,

I am not a woman to cross, as you have now realized. After hiding in
phased reality, running and cowering from me, I have taken first blood
in ancient Caanae. Unfortunate that I could not collect your head. I
only assume you were plagued with undeath, and thus, ending your life
was reward enough.

Fearing me, you threaten my family like the coward you are, as if that
will deter me. Of course not. My lips have acquired a taste for your
blood, and I will not stop until my thirst is quenched, or until you
grovel beneath my feet and wet yourself.

Others may pity you, but I have no mercy, and so I leave you with this:
Come out, come out, wherever you are. When you do, I shall be waiting. I
will bathe in your blood and eat your genitals, then sacrifice the rest
of you to Nature as my penance, for I have allowed such a foul slime to
crawl in this world much too long.


Fedith Murne, Femme Fatale

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Aequitas, in the year 436 AD.