Speak not of My Goddess, worm, or of Vengeance, for you flower-picking,
nightgown wearing, pathetic brand of pacfism is an affront to Her Glorious
order!! How dare ye speak of what ye do not understand?!
One more word from ye and I shall ensure you suffer endlessly for your
heresies! Hope is Born of Vengeance indeed, but it is a hope that our enemies
shall yet scream in pain before us, a Hope that their cities will collapse
in burning ruins, a Hope the feeble souls of weaklings such as thine may
rot in hell forever!
By the Wyverns Teeth, ye infuritate me, now be silent little man and watch
thy tongue, lest I rip it out and place it upon tray before ye, so ye may
better watch it in future!!
I assume I have made myself clear, Heathen!?
Arikarr, Priest of Xanthe.
Written by my hand on the 1st of Springflower, in the year 999.