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.