*A letter sealed with black wax, a broken arrow over a teardrop used as a seal, sent through the defenders of Myth Drannor*
Mirtul 26, 1378
Why should I stand and be open to another knife in my spine? Why should I allow your corrupted souls another chance? What at all do I have to gain from assassins waiting to cut pieces from me? There is nothing, no healing to be done, no peace to forge, it's all in flames now.
-Ciardha Nyilas, Black Archer & Cor'faenious