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Taking jabs at a powerful and cruel Brakmarian weapons master is a bit like playing with Stasis. When Amayiro took a swipe at Oto Mustam, all he did was set off another war – the "War of the Letters" this time. Djaul's friend wasted no time replying…


Dear Amayiro,

(Or should I say "Dear Sore Loser", since it seems that your latest defeat against our great and victorious city has left a bad taste in your mouth?)

I get the impression that your memory is as short as the complete list of Bonta's conquests. "The White City" as you call it. Actually, that's not such a bad nickname after all. It's nice. It's… cute. It's even cutesy, I'd say. In short, it suits you well. But still, be careful with white. It tends to get dirty easily. Blood leaves stains… as I'm sure you've noticed. And they're a real pain in the (ahem) to get out…

But never mind that. As I was saying, your memory seems to be failing you. Assuming you know how to read, I suggest you take a gander at the Almanax. In it, you'll see that we, too, have a feast day of our own. Haven't you heard of the Brakmarathon in that insignificant backwater of a city you call home?

That said, I won't hold you forgetting it against you. After all, everything in Bonta is so small (and I don't just mean the size of your army). And you're so far away from everything… Completely lost in the middle of nowhere… So of course, we tend to forget you exist! And it also explains why some things go completely over your heads, and why you're regularly behind the times. Some see it as a kind of authenticity. But some of us can recognize hicks when we see them…

But anyway… It's almost endearing. Everything about you is so cute. Well… except your face, of course. Your face is undoubtedly the one and only thing that gives you an edge – by scaring my men… You know, with such an ugly mug, you'd fit right in with the army of Bworks that I'm planning to train for our next big battle. With a bit of luck, maybe you'll win that one. I'm joking, of course! Ha ha ha! You see, we're not lacking in humor here either.

But I digress… What were we talking about already?

Oh, yes! The Brakmarathon, that slug-fest of fisticuffs. With a face just begging to be slapped like yours, I'm surprised you haven't heard of it…

Haven't you ever seen Brakmarians come together joyfully in bad humor to evacuate the – how shall I put it? – excess emotions boiling up in their hearts? Oh, silly me. You were probably too busy hiding like a tiny frightened Moumouse. After all, watching real men give each other beatings and come to blows left, right and center must be quite intimidating when you're not used to visible displays of virility. You'll understand when you hit puberty…

Descendre 12 (remember that date because it could very well be the day you die) is full of the most wonderful activities – headbutting tournaments, musical torture (we play the greatest hits of Jon Lemon and his ilk on repeat), and even contests to see who can fart in the faces of the most Bontarians. Speaking of which! What are you doing next Descendre 12?

By the way, I'd like to thank you for your gift. I love wearing next to nothing when I torture poor little defenseless Bontarians (by tickling their toes with a Piwi feather, for example, or singing the Brakmarian hymn).

Oh! What was I thinking? I almost forgot the most important thing. I have something for you, too… It's nothing, really! "Not even worth a Bontarian fart!" as we say in these parts. A magnificent pair of slippers made out of authentic dead Rat Bags. Freshly killed just this morning! I hope that you will enjoy this small gift and that you'll think of me when you put them on your tiny, pedicured feet…

Weapons Master with the Brakmarian Militia


Will Bonta drop the matter? See you in a few days for Amayiro's reply.
Feel free to leave a comment for or against Bonta below. And while we're waiting for the Brakmarathon, have fun on Temporis III!