A sneaking beast delivers this bloody satchel within the depths of the Scarp. It flees.
Words are burned into the satchel addressed to Eyuchiskol the Untempted.
Within is a poorly cut and harvested dripping snakeskin, bloody flesh still attached. The skin is similarly scorched, the burns precise and narrow. The work of magic?
We keep and we tend to the fenceline. Intrusions are never taken lightly. This FOUNTAIN is not endless. Does this shine a LAMP upon his fate? What was a germane tool has been reFORGEd.
One wonders too. What did you hope to HATCH by writing me? One wonders. Do you think it is so easy to replace the foaming CLARET? One wonders. One wonders. Where is your RUBY? One wonders.