Scribbled on a dried, white hide, in what easily smells like blood

You were saved, and despite offers of peace for past children's conflict and prayer to your lord, gathered a mob. A final chance to offer peace. You seek the council, and preach Strength, Independence.

I seek the same.

Continue your campaign to burn the weak.

Should you succeed in the council, You will be contacted once more with a list of things to settle the debt you owe me.

-The Sanguine Wyvernchild.

[Left at the Last Stand.]

Sanguine Wyvernchild,

Who in the Nine Hells are you? I don't owe you anything. I will continue my bid for Council and I shall win. As my first act I shall outlaw cryptic messages.

Also, if you contact me further it will be without this gore.

Hoaradin Delorin Keeper of the Purifying Flame

An even, if at all possible, bloodier single word is left, scribbled upon his letter and left for him

letter

Sanguine Wyvernchild,

Who in the Nine Hells are you? I don't owe you anything. I will continue my bid for WolfCouncil and I shall win. As my first act I shall outlaw cryptic messages.

Also, if you contact me further it will be without this gore.

Hoaradin Delorin Keeper of the Purifying Flame

Sanguine Wyvernchild,

We will meet to discuss whatever reparations you think you are owed. I will not meet you outside the city, but you may find me at the Last Stand.

Hoaradin Delorin Keeper of the Purifying Flame

Congratulations.

We'll be speaking soon.

I'll allow you a few days to sort your office before I use this charming key I found and come visit.

-S.W.

[Received.]

Murder? Really?

You think too highly of yourself, Councilor.

I was simply coming to settle the score you owed.

I still remember your screams and the puddle of urine you left behind when you gazed upon me, and ran to gather your mob. And this was for saving your life. How human of you. You are but a man. A man of a god, perhaps, but only a man.

Sleep tight.

Take solace in the fact that I can make it as quick as you wish, or leave you as the shiles boy, and let your own people slaughter you for being a werewolf. Why murder you, when I can let your public do it for free? One little bite. Even on a finger. And you're damned.

You have a day to remove my bounty, and have your town council publicly admit their weakness of fear for me to your public, and your city shall be spared in the name of Malar since you already claim me sending you death-threats, I shall give your entire town a life-promise.

Or you can persist, and have your citizens turn on you. Slowly. One by one. As you hide amongst the sewers, or perhaps the underdark. A strange beast taking control of your body. Leaving you helpless as you feast upon the flesh of children and men alike. You may serve a god, but you are still an animal. A man.

The choice is yours.

This shall be our final penned correspondence.

You shall either see me never again in your city, Or in the middle of the night as I feast upon your liver.

-S.W.

[Received.]