You are that little weasel that keeps getting himself involved in my matters. I have told you once, if I have told you a thousand times. Don't attack me, and I won't attack you.

If you don't want to die, don't attack me, bottom line. I do not want to attack you, but I have no choice when you do attack.

I expect you to defened your city, but don't whine like a little child when you die for it.

Blotto

Written by my hand on the 16th of Midsummer, in the year 1132.