I cry your attention, not for vengeance but for mercy.

Player: "What can I do for you?"

My comrades in Tiamat, we seek to rebuild our Legion.

Though we are few, our strength knows purpose and valor. Perhaps Asmodae, which knoweth our worth, findeth allies in Tiamat's fallen.

Whether for Asmodae, for ourselves, for life: our sludge-slow reformation maketh difficulty for Beritra. And Lord Beritra does not countenance such difficulty.

Player: "We too seek to inconvenience Beritra."

Then let us stand shoulder to shoulder against his legions.

Findest thou his Arunt Soldier on the Pradeth Plains. He carries a Kill Order for my kith and kin.

I pray your mercy.

Player: "I shall grant it."

I die, inch by inch and scale by scale.

Don't we all?

Player: "Some sooner than others. Have a Beritra Army Orders."

You carry my gratitude.

In this vile missive, that coward harkens death upon us all!

Player: "How dare he want to kill his enemies?"

Haha! Thy words stand true.

And it please you, neither Asmodian nor Tiamat Legionary may allow the filth to abide.

Player: "I don't follow. Try that again?"

Would thou destroy the Beritra Siege Engines that rain fire on my brethren?

Wouldst slay the murderous foe? The Sheban Beastmaster in Tiamat's Fall?

Player: "Wouldst I? Oh yes."

Many good thanks upon thee.

Cooperating races answer pleas,
And webs of confidence together weave.