“Dear Taahir,
Thank you for the correspondence, we had no such technology when last I dwelled on the surface. Truly we live in strange times. Your messages are well received, and I am glad to hear your tea brewing is progressing. My condolences to Throkk over whatever he discovered in that mansion, he carries the weight of a stolen childhood on his shoulders and has more blood on those hands than will ever wash off – but I would hear how my good friend Throkk is faring now? Is he in good health? Fighting well?
It sounds like you’re better off without Karn to be honest. Hard to trust a man like that. Finally, I detest swamps and I share your hatred of such places. I am sorry you find yourself in such a location. I would be careful placing a such a large, heavy structure as a tower onto soft earth , it is likely to sink within hours – I’m sure they have thought of this, they are some of the smartest campaigners I have ever met, but all the same, please warn everyone accordingly.
I had arrived in Porta Verde to meet you as you suggested but learned you had come and gone in the time it took me to travel from the elves forest ship-city. I see you have left your mark on this place, the poor excuses for stoneworkers here were already laying the foundations for a statue above Shang’s Gate. It cast a dark shadow on my heart to learn it was to be of Celeste and of the death that lay within the rift. It is now being walled off for eternity, I hope, though none would speak of what lay beneath, or of what their purpose was. I of course gave instruction to those who would listen and helped select the choicest marble for the good ladys memory.
It was the next day that accursed moon appeared. The place was in panic, many have fallen ill with some plague in the weeks prior and there were days of rioting and looting as the shoguns officers struggled to maintain control. Once it didn’t immediately fall on us, and people realised they still needed to eat, drink and fuck, then things shifted towards some normality- although horses are impossible to control, many escaped and fish beach themselves on the shores in their thousands.
I had given up hope of hearing from you, and had made preparations to travel Southwards , perhaps to Bulgan or Twin points to escape the madness, until I overheard a conversation over the pint of ale ( a fairly decent one too, “Carbarian Rage” – the brewmaster is decent fellow and got me as pissed as a mattress when I told him we had travelled together for a while. Told me to swing back in a season or two for a new recipe hes waiting on “Red Setter”.)
Turns out some sailors had made port this morning in an imperial galleon, bound for Namburg. A young prince was aboard and was racing for the capital, turns out they had met none other than the infamous Sub Optima. It took little convincing to allow me to join them – though in jest they tell me they had a dwarf passenger on the southbound journey. The Seadogs have a dark sense of humour it seems.
It might be the quarries of the capital are where I find some solace and can work these old hands until they are worn smooth and I might forget the horrors I escaped from.
Until we meet again,
Alawyn.