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[Mairsil]

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Myrddin's speach only two days before had hit a chord, and had been rippling through Umbra ever since. His soldiers were patrolling a bit more eagerly, the owners of the shops kept an eye over their customers a bit more akin to a hawk. Myrddin himself felt empowered, as if he had gained some level of control over Jon.

Things were they way they should be, and would be even more so soon. But Myrddin was confident, not arrogant, and not stupid. Staying ahead of Jon was nothing to take lightly, and in the interest of doing so Myrddin guessed that Jon would soon hear of his speach. He had no intention of waiting for that to happen.

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To the Lord of House Strathmore,

I, Myrddin Ab'Arawn, the War Master of Umbra, have officially declared war on your name. House Ab'Arawn, the ruling family of Umbra, and all of the soldiers and citizens there in, now acknowledge that you, Jonathan Strathmore, are an enemy of the realm. I have authorized that you be apprehended or killed on sight.

But to hell with formality.

If the above statement is found humorous Jon, I welcome it, I encourage it. I would go so far as to congratulate you for the joy it must bring you to know how deeply you've inspired my hatred for all that you are.

But I am tired Jon. Not in a physical sense, and nor do I feel any level of stress, but I am tired of indulging you. Your games, your traps, your very style. Up to this point I've certainly put forth every effort to kill you, but I've been patient. I've been cautious. Most of all, I've been torn between my responsibilities.

Your life's work is directly related to the harassment of my family, and you've proven if anything to be devoted to your work. I on the other hand am the War Master of Umbra. I am responsible for not only my family, but the entire Umbran Military. So you see Jon - up to this point I've only had so much time to focus on you - but not anymore.

From this point forward I will not wait for you to come to me ever again. I will not have to wait for you to make a mistake ever again. I now swear to devote all of my energy and all of my resources to finding you.

I shall become the dog you have always considered me to be, Jon. I will hunt you, and I will hound you, and when you succumb to desperation I will catch you and I will throw you unto the mercy of the pack.

I say again, Jonathan Strathmore, Umbra is at war with you. The soldiers of a nation want your blood, and I am going to lead them wherever you go.

The time has come for you to make a choice. Prepare yourself to face your enemy, or you can see how long you last on the run.

-Myrddin Ab'Arawn
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"You see I can not be forsaken, because I'm not the only one. We walk amongst you, beating, r#ping, must we hide from everyone?" - Jon Davis

[Jonathan Strathmore]

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A letter lies pinned to the pillow of Myrddin and Nightshade's bed with a dagger within the confines of the ab'Arawn manor in Umbra.

The letter reads:

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To Lord Myrddin ab'Arawn,

The power of your voice was truly a sight as it touched the hearts of your Umbran kin. I commend your public speaking. If I were less of a man, I'd dare say it rivals my own.

I cannot say I have been waiting without expectation of this decree. As such I do welcome it. With laughter, perhaps, joy, maybe, however, above all, my dear Grand son-in-law, I welcome it with a great level of anticipation.

I do hope you train your men well, my young ab'Arawn, but then, I know you do.

With that said, I offer you with but one rebuttal. Take comfort in the arms of your military, and take pleasure in the swords of your army as they encase you in their might. I suggest you insist your family do the same, Myrddin (as it seems you have decided we are on a first name basis, I will comply) and I suggest you keep them close to your own heart and blade.

Cherish them now, the three you have left. Cherish them my dear grandson, for the time you have them. Things... people are so easily lost in this world, in the life and time we live. People can be lost, and never again found.

It is so easy to lose those we love, when we devote our lives singularly. Enjoy your family, Grandson, for you still share them with me.

Deepest sincerity,

-Lord Jonathan Strathmore-


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A set of tracks, that of a man, lead from the home, disappearing into the shifting sands of the desert. A scent carries through the air, to the housings of Willow Smythe, Warlord of Umbra, passing through the front door.