A letter for the Once Great Mage's council
The words you read now are those of a man sentenced to the icy grip of undeath, so doomed by your hand. Though thy folly was perhaps only to follow protocol, may my fate haunt your dreams. I vigorously trained myself as a spellsword to purge the lich that had dominated the soul of my once-noble friend Erandur, but my pointless expulsion from your misguided coven barred me from the appropriate training; the blame falls upon your brow for my errors in banishing the lich, the blame falls to you for its infestation of my mind... May the Worm King himself usurp you, piteous hounds of -
