As is typical of much of the rhetoric spewing out of the village to the east, I
read your post subsequent to our prolonged challenge. Prolonged, by the way, merely
because you hugged your staves. You died three times, and I died once, and you
ultimately lost - and during the event, as you became increasingly frustrated - what
did you do? - you three times killed my eagle. Fortunately for me, my hands were
quick to pick it up to prevent you from offering it as you did to one of my eagles
prior to our challenge.
Springdale is not childish -- it is currently asserting itself, having learnt
the lessons of oppression from first Thakria, and then Parrius. Of course --
my last recollection of you was you teaming me incessantly, then going PW to the
great disgrace of the realm of your then patron.
Written by my hand on the 28th of Midwinter, in the year 1155.