Those involved in the construction of the Cathedral of Madness within
the Ithaquan forest. I hereby order you to cease all construction
regarding the so called monument of Insanity. The village elders and the
village itself were not notified of your intentions to build upont he
library of Ruin. While I do acknowledge your intentions, I cannot
however allow you to ignorantly defile the hallowed ground of the
Griever. Her spirit and those of Her faith have poured far too much of
their own lifesblood into this forest to allow the bystanders of Madness
to move in and overtake Their library.

It is becoming clear to me, that over time the Windwalker has turned His
back upon the Black Pine, allowing those of His grace to trapse through
our woods, harrassing our culture and defiling our traditions. My
predecessor was diplomatic and tried to parlay with the clique of
Madness. I however, am far less forgiving and diplomatic. In our years
of growth, our prayers fell upon deaf ears when we called upon the
Windwalker. Without his aid, we fell into the ravenous madness that
drove us to consume our young, to consume those we love and ultimately
to consume our own limbs in an effort to weather the brutal winter of
the Black Pine. When pondered, we received visions, telling us off,
casting us into an unfathomable darkness as Insanity itself turned its
back upon us, we were to Insane even for the maniacs. Now, as we have
perservered the depth of winters Wrath, we have emerged as a strong
society, our bodies hardened by starvation, our minds honed and focussed
from an Insanity that was so great, the Windwalker Himself chose not to
recognize it. Now, His faithful come clamouring to us, without word,
without question, without permission...they come to us to build upon our
lands, seeking to stake a claim into the greatness that the village will
grow to be.

That being, said, I cannot in good conscience allow those of the
Windwalk to build upon the land of my fellow villagers. Our brand of
insanity, the banned beliefs, drive us to commit acts no mortal has ever
considered, just to stay alive. Your brand, requires us to speak as if
toddlers, spewing such filth as back-a-lack and stuttering like a
braindead whelp of a bard, "I aM tEh LiBeRaTeD." There may come a time
when our paths may once again cross and you may construct Your
cathedral. But hear me now..now is not the time.

Kabal
Wildgraf of the Village of Ithaqua.

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Letum, in the year 460 AD.