Scorpions. I have made my lands a sepulcher for you. My house is ringed is crystals that abrade your tiny shells, weakening your bodies as my words weaken your spirit. You are nothing more to me now than a common pest. No different than any other insect. Once you had my hatred, now you have my contempt. I spit on you. Perhaps if you had any courage I might still accord you the respect due an enemy. Is this what you hoped to show me? Is this all you are capable of? Your cowardice sickens me nearly as much as the sight of your monstrous, mandibled faces. What a pity that even with all those eyes you could not see what you were unleashing.