Fear is such a fickle thing.

Fear is what has driven your Wytchdoktor to hide within your fortress'
walls. Shall I count the days I sit at the entrance, waiting for her to
come out and face me? I am alone as I wait. Still no sign. Fear is what
has driven your people, the Wytchen, to seek comfort within the Swamp.
For how much longer? Not long at all.

The Limorasi will drive you out. We will hunt. And as it always has
been, and as it forever will be, you will hide.

The only thing apparent in my actions and the actions of the Limorasi is
hatred. Hatred of your lies. Hatred of your being. Hatred of your
existence.

Lawson. For your disrespect shown towards the Red Maiden, you will
suffer. How clearly it shows in your words that you know naught of the
Gods, nor of the Spirits.

Fear is in the actions of your leader.


P.S.
I left your Wytchen a small gift, just outside your guildhall.

Lady A. Savet.
The Haruspex.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Ferinus, in the year 547 AD.