Saph, you have little reason to like me... nor I, you. You have interfered with my plans whenever possible and gone so far as to curse me up and down when I was but a wee thing because your fellow citizens couldn't take care of themselves.

I know that you can take me... hell, I'm half your size. If that. But you must know that for every death you deal to me, you'll die many, many more. Keep that in mind next time you're sitting at your stone thinking about what you might or might no

t do.

Oh, and keep this crap off the order board you dufus. It makes our patron look bad... didn't your scrap with Dworkin teach you anything?

Written by my hand on the 12th of Paglost, in the year 1013.