Dear General Tlanbuun,

Some time has passed since our last correspondence! If it is of any interest, I have thought of you often in our time apart. I hope Xathnar finds you well. Lord knows if it finds you half as well as those murderous goons of yours in that fleet of raider ships found our relief nursery, then we've got nothing to worry about.

Oh, right, speaking of that senseless act of infanticide, I took a quick gander at that silly treaty you and I signed the last time we were within 9,000,000 space miles from each other, and was surprised to find that the document had rather a lot to say about the bombing of non-military targets. Who'd've thunk it?

In all our years as adversaries, if there's one thing I've learned about you, Tlanbuun, it's that you truly believe that the rules do not apply to you. I highly recommend you put that theory to the test! Climb to the top of that three thousand foot gold statue of you that your legion of slave laborers built for your birthday, and take a big flying swan dive off of it! Surely if the laws of our treaty are beneath you, then the laws of gravity would similarly yield to your childish whim?

Of your retribution I can say only this: It shall be carried out swiftly and without mercy, in the name and by the will of the Blortinon Gods Mi'ignevaark and Eefleeb, God of testicular agony and God of targeting family members, respectively.

Blortinon soldiers on!

Sincerely,
General Proncfrood