Lucia Maximus, tidings to you during this festive season,
It is Karl, of the brash, somewhat foolish young men who retained your services during the time of Bogehnafen’s plague. Do not be surprised at the fact I can write. The Dwarf taught me to puncture the sentences and everything of its like. He taught me enough of the character of our alphabet to warn you.
The nights are cold, long and vicious. We three find ourselves in the employ of Maximillian Aldrech, a commander of some standing looking to reopen the North passage. Much profit can be found for noble warriors here in such times, though that is not why I write you.
Base powers are abroad. But enough of Lustria. Base powers work their black magic at home too; the men (and women) of the Reik do well to stand against such terrible foes each moon, but in seasons such as this the dawn seems especially far-off.
While negotiating a peaceful solution to a deadlocked seige (between Dwaves and Elves no less) myself, Heinrich (who sends his best) and Grok (who does not) were tasked with the retrieval of many artefacts of a noble and beautiful value to the shorter elder folk.
The trail of these stolen goods led us to a clearing in which unnatural beastly things were being done to unnatural, beastly people by unnatural beings things. Many of these things involved fluids. I will not elaborate on which ones. Heinrich will though, at length, after only the slightest provocation.
The three of us infiltrated this den, doing well not to become depraved beasts ourselves. Things happened which I shall not repeat, lest the movement of my quill on paper invoke the very beasts that caused such havok. We did well to clear the woodland of horror, assisted only by elven horses, stolen garments and some extremely distracting explosives.
But this digression forces me off-track. Among the clearing, high among tree-tops once made proud by the presence of elf-kin, banners floated. The banners were of noble families, made ignoble by the actions of their members below. The families themselves are a mystery to me, but I recognised in one of them the sash and stripes of one of Bogenhafen’s nobles.
Which one I cannot say; our time in the forest brought more pressing concerns to bear. But I write to you that you may keep your guard up and eyes keen in Bogenhafen. We wish no ill to come to the town that honoured our actions – and blessed me – so.
Good luck Lucia, and good tidings again in this most festive of festivals. A bowl of broth to you and your order,