*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.*