The Note of Dread

The young woman moves towards the hearth, wine in hand before stopping as the new note catches her attention. She giggles softly as she reads it before taking some parchment, those smelling of roses again as she scribbles on it.


Idle threats... idle threats... your humor me though. My thanks!


She tacks it up, leaving it unsigned again though a little rose petal can be seen tacked up with it. She chuckles and shakes her head "Ignorant little fool..." With that, she disappears in a burst of dark red light.

A dark figure moves to the board, reads many of the postings, then pauses on this one

It never ceases to amaze me how many claim to be such great evil. One more in the pile of hopeless causes and dark dreams. Perhaps I will find one worthy of my talents, but I doubt it is this Hackenslash character.

The figure steps away on continues on his business.

*The dark woman approaches the boards, her eyes gazing upon the note once more. A devious smile, yes, a smile, crossing her lips. She retreives a pen and parchment, beginning to scribe her note.*

You truely are of the sorriest sort. A bally sod, barmier than a spire god. You claim to hold power, as if you are a Power of any sort. I however countinue to find your claims fleeting, lacking in affirmation. ANd it humors me intensely, as if your name, given or the one dubbed upon you by the kinslayer, Babylon, did not already make me laugh hard enough, near enough to make me gasp for breaths I need not take.

As a furtherance, your retorts thus far have been nothing but laughable, weak and untestified. Your so called reputation means little to me, nor to many abound. What matters to them is the ability to prove your words. Until you can do such, and I highly doubt you can, the kinslayer's name for you remains far better than what you deem yourself to be. That is to say, you are harmless, pathetic, and pitiful.

Even lizards know when to cut tail and run. Your "Reptilian Patience" will win you nothing but attrition and your demise. Although, perhaps someone will paint a cute little face upon your casket. But then, more likely, they will merely relieve themselves upon your countenance whilst it rots in a field and rapid decay, your soul seeking a Power to claim, only to be led to a perminant Purgatory.

*The woman grins, beginning to post up her reply, only to set it down and begin to scribe once more.*

Last time, I left you with my note unsigned, attesting to your worthlessness. However, this time, I shall leave you with my name, and a call to thy bluff.

Let it be known, you are a mere grub to be feasted upon, and drained of your essence, only to serve as a lackey to those you claim to be mute.

Loathfully, pridefully,



*The woman smiles, tacking up her notice before vanishing in a mist.*

Kids these days...

The humorous note is left unsigned.

A Note of Fulsome Horror

Posted overtop of the various replies is a large piece of the same vellum, this time tacked into place with what are clearly fangs of some sort, recently pulled.


Be pleased, for you have given the Baron Von Hackenslash great mirth in your silly little replies and the exposure of your insecurities. As a gesture of his good will, he has maimed his bottle opener and will do without for a few hours; the fangs that post this note are proof of it.

The Baron understands your feeble attempts to draw him out, but points out that though your swift death would amuse him, it does not amuse him as much as your gamboling about in pithy arrogance. Did you really think that the Baron is, like you, so desperate to portray himself as powerful that he'd come running to a challenge?

No, the Baron has nothing but disdain for your petty goading. He has faced champions of Celestia and come away victorious. He has crushed mighty half-dragon fiendish anarchic entropic corrupted vampire werewolves of great and surpassing evil because they did not know how to gloat properly. What can you possibly be, compared to his dark and vaunted presence?

A mere pawn.

The Baron encourages you all to continue to underestimate him, which you no doubt will do.

Baron Von Windbag,

You dare claim yourself as evil and yet all I see you do is toot your own silent horn. If you really are as evil as you claim then I dare you to prove it by taking me out. I doubt you are no more than just a pompous windbag that needs to be the center of attention and a weakling that picks on the innocent and then makes claims of granduer. If ever get off your pompous overfilled rump and decided to make an appearance into the tavern then I might reconsider the fact that you are not a windbag.....but a pompous fool will never be reconsidered.

Your humble target

Ulraene Silvanosys

Come now, My fellows, I am sure this is all some elaborate hoax portrayed by the local younglings. Lets let this little ruse die, as I am sure it has ceased to amuse all but those behind the jest.

A thin, rather plain-looking, but well-dressed man steps up to the boards, reading them over. He pauses as he comes to this set of messages and looks quite thoughtful for a moment. He hesitates a moment then shrugs to himself as if he has nothing to lose. Picking up a bit of parchment, then, he pens a quick reply.

To the illustrious Baron, greetings,

While surpassingly talented at my chosen career, I find myself currently without employment. A person of your charismatic ability and fear inspiring vocabulary would be a considerable boon to work for.

He pauses a moment and chews on the end of his pen.

While I am a mere peon in the no doubt deep and chilling darkness of your mighty shadow, I would offer my service as personal butler, should you ever find yourself in need of a valet.
Quivering in primal terror,
~H. Whipsnake, Gentleman's Gentleman.

Again a man wearing a black robe and hood that covers his face enters the tavern as he walks he passes the boards. He stops for a moment and reads, afters he reads he pulls out a blank piece of parchment paper then a dagger. With the dagger he cuts his finger then begins to write on the paper with his blood:
Dear Baron,

Due to my influence in the country of Thay, consider it a present from me to you. All of the most powerful Red Wizards have fallen by my blade, all of the Thayian Knights have all been killed in your name. To say the least I have an army of Lichs waiting for orders by you. My lord to prove myself even more to you the Etheral and the plane of Shadows rulers have fallen by my blade in your name, also for you my lord I will silence anyone that you desire. Your will is my command, your hand is my shadow and your claw is my blade my Lord Baron Hackenslash.

Dreadfully and faithfully yours,
Tiberious Riddick

Once the man stops writing he places his new message under his old one and then vanishes from sight.