Lord Gregory and Prince Nathaniel… Hah! Little lordlings and aspiring acolytes the land has plenty! In my lifetime I’ve only come across one being that beckons me to soil my smallclothes: none other than Sharrif the Unsullied. Yih! To say his name, one begins to detect a vile vitriol on the back of tongue. He is the only known being in this plane of existence able to vanquish both a horse sized duck and one-hundred duck sized horses. No soft bosom nor fat purse big enough can tempt a man into willingly confronting the Great Deceiver, holder of sixty-six appendages, infamous throughout all the lands: In the west he is The Beast of Balthazar; Flayer, the Unholy One, the Father of All Lies; sometimes, The Wind that Sighs in the Night. To the mercantile lands of the East he is known only as Al’Shabeeb-el-Hazoom-yak-Raboobi Nar’d Shmazeefka. To hear it pronounced correctly invokes a rare sort of wickedness, indeed. Should his gaze strike a prized horse, a most peculiar thing occurs: the animal starts rocking and rearing most alarmingly, falling into a flailing, frothy-tongued-furor whereupon it spontaneously combusts into a putrid cloud of bloodmaggots. It is said if one watches the horse-meat decompose for seven days and seven nights while drinking jackal’s blood, and cares not overly much for one’s own life, one can follow the fecund flies home to the stench of Shaboobi’s lair, where a buried treasure of epic proportion awaits. Ancient Lore also warns of the Curse of Seven Generations which befalls the man who fearfully passes gas in his presence. Lastly, to the South, In the desolate plains of Yayahz he is often called Sunsmite, the Dustman…. and rather intriguingly, Wurmsphincter. The Great Fables of Yore tell the tale that only Dawnbreaker itself is able to cast even a doubt in his mind. Pity the poor fortune of all existence as for all the Realm, the legendary sword has literally fallen into Edwin “The Esquire’s” bumbling, neophyte hands. Dark and desolate days are upon us, friend…