Dearest fool,

After you jumped the idrasi council leader, you said no idra could slay
you alone. However, I proved otherwise when your head toppled from your
neck. In typical inbred fashion, reminiscent of your Amira, you not only
proceeding to die pathetically, but you started letting your jaws flap
up and down, side to side, spewing moronic comments about cheating,
unfairness and the worlds predisposition to eliminate people like you.
So touched was I by your tirade, I forfeited the booty of my fight with
you to a lowly lorekeeper novice, along with six thousand gold pieces
and instructions on how to make a Wardancer cry like a babe. It worked.
I consider it money well spent. My beliefs are such that I do not use
magick, nor do I care if a Lorekeeper uses magick in front of me.

Now, dearest fool, what is this about you begging and pleading upon your
knees to the QuintaEssentia, offering her anything in your possession
for a set of mushroom sigils? What in the world would a child of the
Amira need with mushroom sigils?

I remember a man, much like yourself, about a decade ago? What was his
name? Condor? Conder? Cander? I can't remember, but he was a silly,
foolish wardancer so convinced of his own skill he let his mouth work
him into situations his body could not stand up to. As he continued to
lose, and die, and whine..Condor, Conder, Cander began a fall into the
abysmal depths of his own stupidity and became 'evil' and turned upon
those he called friends and family. Sadly, I see the same in you. I life
of obscurity punctuated by random engagements of slaying squires and
servants followed by deaths at the hands of competent warriors, then a
torrent of egotistical squealing of how good you are and how bad the
rest of us are. It would be wise to stray from this botanical path you
stride currently as it is doomed to only repeat the mistakes of the Lord
High Shrubbery of the Garden.

-Kabal

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Vita, in the year 459 AD.