[A pelt arrives for the Drunken Solonar Elf]



  • [A fresh pelt arrives, the words inked in what is clearly the animals fresh blood]

    Drunken Solonar Elf,

    While I revel in the fact that the day will soon come where I catch you in the wilderness and shred your unbearded head from your weak, hairless body, I am content to be disappointed with the delay of this glorious event.

    But hours ago, I was promised a hunt, and so I went on said hunt, into the sewers, with an elf woman we are both acquainted with. Upon entering, she assaulted our fellow companions. I, of course, understanding the game of this hunt, assisted.

    It was then, that she began to summon ooze, of which I have little care of, for such a thing is no more or no less than hunting in a swamp, but she also summoned some sort of undead, and another foul creature was present.

    Upon realizing the situation, that foul, unnatural acts were at work, I assisted in saving the hapless victims from whatever unnatural ritual was to take place.

    While it is certain, that between our hunts, not only will the Black Blooded Pard's way be prove superior, but I and he will be proven superior to your feeble hunting god, I am willing to make an exception to hunt this unnatural creature and the unnatural works that she does, as well as the apparation that has recently been defiling the hullack.

    Should you agree, I am willing to temporarily set aside our differences. The ways of the Black Blooded Pard shall, of course, be proven superior, but regardless of that, we shall both be rid of the sickened taint of the unnatural.

    -Rawhide



  • You do know she's a drow, right?

    -Zal



  • I apparently do now.

    -Rawhide



  • [A pelt arrives]

    Drunken Solonar Elf,

    While our mutual existence demands eventual extinction for one party or another, that time should be delayed, by the rule of the Black Blooded Pard, and by your own diety. As you perhaps have heard, I have taken my rightful place at the head of the malarite church.

    Yet I am beset by an old aged fool, long past the age of culling who has somehow survived the wild beavers that would take his life. Under his leadership, The forest of the Beastlord - the same forest that you would likely claim for your god, has came under constant defilement by the unnatural, the undead, and various other abominations to both of our faiths.

    While the day will come that we shall tear each other limb from limb, our differences should be set aside for a brief period, that we might rectify the unnatural abominations that have taken claim of the forest. 'Huntmaster' Varden has challenged my rule, and under his nose, vile undeath and abomination have taken place. Cast your dice on what side you will support. The time for resolution comes.

    -Alpha Packmaster Rawhide.