I saved all of Ang's Hawk PMs and they create a poem that goes thusly:
In case I'm lynched I now declare
That Cailín my beak should beware...
Tonight no difference does this make
But mormegil I'd to grave take
No need to change my choice at all,
In machinating morm's downfall.
Avaunt! Away! Another pick
And let my talons Miss Spawn prick
I hope I still have sundry time,
But Valier gets this death-rhyme.
Lynching will surely not me slay
But if so, make that Jenny pay...
I have decided, after all
That Glirdan must by my claws fall.
__________________
All shall be rather fond of me and suffer from mild depression.
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