[kta]

The High Priest of Cyric wakes this morning and as he sits up he knows something is wrong. A feeling of unease creeps up his spine and thightens his throat - then he becomes aware of the package.
A small package all black silk right on his desk. Reluctantly he stands up and takes a closer look, all black silk but woven into the silk are tiny feathers, black feathers, raven feathers. Below the silk is a plain ebony chest...

Minutes later after the templeguard and several acolytes have arrived the sergeant opens the chest and takes a hasty step backwards. The head of a known priest of Cyric look out of the chest with black, black eyes. Onyx has been driven into his eyesockets...
His teeth hold a small note.

Know your limits, for we have none! You would be wise not to step on our soil again...

Unsigned