Attention, There is a special elegance in watching a troll announce his own composure. It is akin to gathering fingerprints from candle wax. Your own warmth compromised you. The message arrived. It was very firm, and very full of promises. All the theater one might expect from such an eager-looking man. He pretends to be unprovoked. But he chose to misspell my name. A nice touch. Veyor. What do you expect that to mean? Purveyor, as he is under my watchful eye? Conveyor, because I deliver swift justice? Or am I expecting too much of him, and he is simply making mistakes? I am told I crave attention. An interesting accusation from someone who addressed me by title, handle, and grievance before assuring me he had far more important business than responding. The evening must be terribly crowded, if one must schedule indifference in advance. Still, I will grant him this much. He will finally have his match, and the tips of our unsheathed blades will finally grind against one another. Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve





