My Lord,

Pursuent to your request we have begun to intercept and translate correspondence in transit to the High Elf enclave in Marienburg. I will not deliberate here certain risks that have been taken, but I will provide an example of one of the first missives translated. Please be aware that due to the vagaries of the Elven language, certain words may have been mistranslated, and our scholar on the subject still appears to have serious issue with gender.

I remain,
your most obedient servent.

Gentle Cousin,

I am writing this from a small demesne (inaccuracy here, could mean “house” or “improvised beaver dam”) in the village of Blechwenden. Once again I am struck by the Human’s desire to name their places of residence in such a way that it sounds like they are requrgitating a gobbet of phlegm. I am obliged towards these humans in particular because they stopped me from freezing to death, for which, I suppose, I owe them something. But they test my patience with their hospitality. Honestly cousin, I wonder as I sit, in my scale mail no less, in these lumpy objects that pass for couches in their common room, (a most appropriate term!) whether I should have stayed out in the cold. An hour longer might have at least done for my taste buds at least. Then I wouldn’t have to torture them any longer with what they call wine around here.
(There appears to be a large amount of flowery dialogue for the next three paragraphs, sufficed to say it references various mythic cycles, the Elven gods of fertility and wine making, and question the geneology of humans. I have removed it for everyone’s sake.)

Joy of joys, gentle cousin, it appears I am not alone in my travels, oh no. Though I appear to be the only one with a sense of personal hygiene. Two other humans are staying in the same establishment, one appears to be one of these wandering maniacs (Or devout holy men, unsure of exsact wording) and the other appears to be some kind of travelling entertainer, he certainly dresses as such in any case. Finally, to finish off my trials, there is a dwarf staying in the residence. (I have deleted the more acute expletives here) He proved his races barabaric nature by showing an unnatural fear of clean bed-linen. Worse yet, there seems to be an unnatural presence in the building. Well, that is to say, another unnatural presence besides the dwarf. Things are moved about, people are getting jumpy. I have my suspicions about this houses owner, something about his father’s demise seems too good to be true. Since the shade in question had the temerity to touch Bondbreaker, I find myself shacked up with the less fragrent members of the group, in an attempt to find this creature and satiate it, destroy it, or whatever is necessary to afford us all a descent night’s sleep.

Fair winds,

P.S. If you absolutely must inform my family of my goings on, at least try to leave the location out. The less correspondence I receive from that (expletive deleted, oh my!)the better.

Anierra danced to the left again as Mathilda wildly swung the rolling pin. It clattered against the brickwork, but the noise was soon accompanied by a more sinister cacophany.

“Die mutant!”

The shout raumbled out from the basement room, followed by something making contact with brickwork itself.

The elf looked at the human woman with hesitancy, unsure now of the right course of action, but Ruthgar’s furious cries soon desolved any doubts.

Mathilda found herself staring once again down the length of razor sharp steel into those peircing, black eyes. Her mind found itself regaining a great deal of focus.

“Gather your children and…”

But the spell was broken as Fritz, the human boy, happened into the storeroom.

“You leave my mum alone!”

His little booted foot made a solid whack against the Elf’s shin which led to a complete loss of decorum and good degree of unceremonious hopping on one foot. Amidst a large amount of cursing in Elvish, Anierra managed to glower balefully at Mathilda again.

“Gather your children and GO!!!”

Mathilda finally grasped the intent, as well as little Fritz, and made for the door.

Anierra put the breach of an otherwise solid defence down to poor form and settled in front of the door to the basement.

Sometimes, morals come into conflict, standing up for them was a challenge as worthy as any blade.

Day 67 without a decent glass of wine.

I’m giving up, really, this time I am, I’ve had quite enough of this human swill they call alcohol. I expect the flavours to lift delicately off my tongue and excite my pallet, not lift my tongue directly off and my pallet want to exit.

Humans, can’t live with them, can’t really find any other races that breed like rats and can be shoved in the path of encroaching hordes of chaos. My but they are persistant. This Klaus one is legendary, really. I don’t think I have ever belittled someone quite as much as this man and watched him just take it and get on with things. Amazing! Slightly depressing, but also amazing. I’m sure as our relationship develops, we’ll learn a healthy respect for each other’s capabilities, so long as he has capabilities other than being a raging psychopath.

This Breig…Thing…intrigues me, much as it seems as if he has been disqualified from the human race for shoving, he appears to have a modicum of bravery, something that seems to crop up with humans at the oddest of times. It seems his lot in life has been a hard one, perhaps he needs to throw off the shackles of his class that bind him in place, would that he had the inspiration to do it! Yes dear diary, I smell some class struggle to incite!

Riknar is a wizard! Who knew?


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