Dear Aetherius-

Though I in no way claim to be perfect, nor claim that my mannerisms are
all perfect, I thought perhaps that now would be a good time for a brief
lesson in etiquette.

Since you are clearly reading, one would hope your mother (or whoever
raised you), taught you more then reading. One would hope that person
taught you the mean of the word etiquette. If not, perhaps the
dumbed-down word niceties will do. And if not, hopefully you can read
and understand the word manners.

Manners, Aetherius, implies behaving in a fashion which society dictates
is proper, and is polite.

I would like to address this monstrosity of a war, the etiquette of war,
and my issue with the miscreants of Khandava.

Though I understand that raiding parties are often a tactic used in the
war, I do not see reason for what has happened, again and again to me.
Let me explain.

I am Outrider in class, and must harvest for my supper. So I do. There
has not been ONE time, when harvesting alone, I am not singled out,
attacked, and generally, killed. Sometimes, I am fortunate enough to run
away. Sometimes, I am not.

Attacking a woman harming no-one, harvesting alone, and taken unawares
is nothing less then disgraceful. Multiply that by attacking that same
women, at minimum twice a month, and you are akin to the murdering
marauders who attack caravans- you are nothing more then bandits.
Sneaking, nasty, stinking, scum of the earth. Your mothers would be
shamed.

I am sure plenty of you will come up with smart-alack posts in reply.
About how you never were raised by anyone at all, so what do you care
about manners? Perhaps you will argue I should harvest under the Grace
of my Gods. Perhaps that I am nothing but a Sand Worm, and should borrow
back to where I came from.

Let me save you the trouble of responding.

Believe what you will, you pack of wolves and marauders. You have no
honor, you have no souls, and Dis will be a fiery place for you when at
last, you will rest there for an eternity. I am one hell of a proud Sand
Worm, for I have a soul, a mind, and a good heart. Where are yours?

That's right.

You don't have them.

-J

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Bellum, in the year 513 AD.