Eisenherz Meerkat, die Schwartztraumeto Everyone

What, exactly, have they done? They've managed to become a city of one location, combined with an intricate tunnel network connecting the various shops stockrooms to each other.

What happened to the city of light, you ask? Well, perhaps they grew a pair of intestinal fortitude. Mercinae was just as much springdump's little lap dog as people accuse Parrius of being. And, considering that the situation with Parrius has been more of an \"enemy of my enemy\" thing, rather than a complete and utter domination, I would say you've all got your terminology backward.

Thakrians are nothing if not pragmatic. If your enemy is our enemy, that makes you (at least temporarily) our friend. I'm just as happy killing Parrians as I am killing mercinaens or springdalians. With the only difference being that no parrian has pissed me off, lately. This is a completely different situation than you recently had with Springdale, where Mercinaens felt obligated to leap to the defense of their lords and masters in the city of night.

Now the situation has changed. Springdale has managed to drive away all of it's honourable people, bar none, all of its decent fighters, bar none, and all that's left there are people that do nothing but sit in their protected locations and whine about this, that and the other. It used to be a strong city with a thriving citizenry (that had some modicum of goodness and honour), and now it's little more than a cesspool, whose driving force is the tears of its citizens.

And I, for one, applaud the city of light for taking steps to distance itself from the city of Night. What is night, but the absence of the sun? Why on earth would you even -want- to associate yourself with people that take the absence of your divine patron to heart, and revel in it? That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

armsmash saroman for you, Rajj the waste-of-space. Shut it. If I need to be warmed, I'll build a fire, you can save that hot air and raw sewage for someone that gives a damn. Go sit in your stockroom and wait for your friends to come out with you, fool.


Written by my hand on the 1st of Mournsend, in the year 1198.