LETTERS TO ESSE
Scribed by Merod
~1~
Dearest Esselina,
I have arrived in Wehnimer's Landing. It is a huge, bustling city full of wonder and danger. I have kept myself busy these first few days running errands from Moot Hall for the City government. They are simple tasks, which have helped me to familiarize myself with the merchants and byways. The few extra coins they provide are welcome as well.
I have been directed to the Adventurer's Guild, which offers tasks for coin and offers some other nice benefits to its members. I don't feel comfortable venturing into the wilds quite yet though.
I have little besides my daggers and Great Great Grandda's diary. My understanding of Dwarvish is improving every day. Hearing it spoken in the market and around town by dwarves has helped immensely. Though it sounds as if their mouths are full of rocks. But in speaking it I fear I will never be able to be understood. A simple greeting had every dwarf within hearing distance laughing in scorn at my attempt. I did try a mouth full of pebbles; they tasted horrible. I thought that I sounded much more authentic but the laughter was pretty much the same. I will stick to the written Dwarvish and soon I hope to be able to translate the journal.
I will write more as I can.
Your loving brother,
Merod
~2~
Dear Esse,
I have decided to follow in the footsteps of Grandda Helve: I will be a famous rogue! After all, it was the stories Mum's Da told us of him that brought me to the Landing. It is only fitting that I trace his path. I am not nearly as strong as a Dwarf and that will hamper me some. It takes a lot of equipment to feel safe.
But one sixteenth Dwarf does not make up for 15/16 Gnome. We gnomes are more dancers than pack mules. Still I think that my natural agility will serve me well in my chosen profession. I will just have to be very choosy about what I carry.
Do not be alarmed about what follows.
|I have been outside the Gates of Wehnimer's Landing. It is dangerous. I have even died. No! Do not cry. Lorminstra is kind and makes provision for death. There are priests and healers here that can do amazing and wonderful things. Death is not permanent. Yet.
I met the local sheep. They are not like our sheep. They are demon spawned in hell sheep with huge teeth and cutting hooves. They are called rolton and though I can not speak for the entire species, the one that I met this day does not like to be petted. Though it did like the hand that I petted it with. It liked it so much that after it had eaten that hand it went to work on the rest of me. Fortunately a kind stranger dragged my body to the town square.
There a kind empath healed me and a kind cleric returned my soul to my body. "What," you ask, "is an empath? A cleric?." An empath is a healer. They have the amazing ability to take the wounds from an injured person and transfer them to themselves. The oldest and best trained ones can take a pile of bones and clothe it with flesh.
And the clerics? Priests they are. But far more skilled than our simple country priests it seems. When communing with their gods they can return the very soul of a person back to her body.
But enough of that. Dwarvish is coming together for me and I am able to read it fairly well and better every day. Grandda Helve's journal is in some kind of code and I will keep working to break it. But his poetry is simply in Dwarvish and I have begun to translate it. I will include poems here for you.
Here is the first:
Helve I am and axe I wield
Strike from dark need no shield
Leg I take with first blow
Second shot, they never know.
Love always,
Merod
~3~
My Dear Sister,
I am dying quite regularly.
I met the local deer. Only here they are called velnalin. Velnalin are to deer as rolton are to sheep. It seems as if everything wishes to kill me. The sheep have fangs. The deer have sword-sharp horns. I hear the cattle have the same. Where are the cute bunnies? The cuddly squirrels? The adorable groundhogs? If I saw any of those around I would assume that the wished to eat me even more fervently than I them.
RThis place is a very warren of death traps for the unwary.
I am beginning to hold my own a little better. My training as a rogue is teaching me to hide and strike from the shadows with two daggers.
Kobolds and orcs and all manner of evil creatures infest this land. Much of my time is spent cleansing the land of their taint. On the up side they sometimes carry boxes or treasures or coin. I am meeting many helpful adventurers and am working to upgrade my equipment.
Another skill I am learning allows me to try to pick the locks on some of their boxes.
Fel-hafted war axe in my hand.
Deep in burrow take I my stand.
Though weary at end I may fall.
Still evil feel cold iron's call.
Yours forever,
Merod
~4~
Dear Esselina,
I have visited the Adventurer's Guild! Though it seems to lead to just more inventive ways for me to die. Guild Taskmaster Rheteger give tasks and pays upon their successful completion. He is supposed to give tasks that are commensurate with your abilities. I have been sent to forage for rare herbs that the healer needs, for gems that the dealer in jewelry wants for commissions, to kill critters troubling local villagers, find and return lost children, make the roads safe by killing bandits, and to find personal items lost to the depredations of evil creatures.
Those older than I hear of being tasked to take dignitaries or travelers to distant towns and protect them along the way. It sounds quite glamorous!
But the reality?...Foraging ends up poisoning my hands. The gem dealer always wants the gems I just sold before getting a gem task. Have you ever tried to get a small child to keep up with you in broken country?
Crawl around on the ground looking for an earring, with orcs about, really? Kill how many? Oh, and let us not forget... bandits... and not just the bandits I am supposed to go after. No, they would be hard enough to track down, all 15 or 21 of them, but noooooo.
There I was on the trail to Solhaven. It is a town rather close by with some nice shops and other darker places. But the trail is fairly safe. Large ogres lurk, but if one is careful they are not too dangerous. I am moving along when all of a sudden, bam! Out jump a bunch of bandits, highwaymen, robbers, thieves, and various unsavory minions of lawlessness and they waylay me, ambush me, a rogue, and leave me dead lying in the road! Then along comes a group to take care of them. By then it was too late for me.
Unfortunately, the next day I forgot that Rheteger, guildmaster of the Adventurer's Guild, born of parents unmarried, may his name ever be cursed, had given me a task of clearing the
trail of bandits of my own.
I was heading to Solhaven to check the pawnshop for good used equipment when all of a sudden, bam! Out jump... well you get the picture. I now make sure that I never go on a trip when bandits are about if I know of them.
Most odious Master Rheteger, Sir
At least never have you required a fur
For task rendered you give me a fee.
No other redeeming quality I see.
P.S. Remember I told you of Lornminstra and death not being permanent? It is her kindness that allows priests to preserve our bodies till the healers can restore them. It is her provision that lets the priests return our souls to our healed bodies. It seems that I now have used up so much of Lornminstra's favor that I have to make offerings to her to return my soul to my body. She requires gifts of gems or coin. If your gifts please her she bestows her favor on you and your return to life leaves you a little weak for a while. If you do not have her favor it takes much more effort for you to return to your full strength.
Always yours,
Merod
~5~
Dear Esse,
I decided to get out and see some of the wider world. What a mistake that was. There are numerous maps included in Grandda's journal. I decided that I would explore some of them. Wentoph looked like a good area to which I could move my hunting. Krag yetis seemed to be within my talent. I was quite tired of kobolds and velnalin.
It was a difficult trip. When I got to the slopes I hid and crept along stealthily. Alas, it was for naught. A huge krag yeti discovered me and with a single blow of his huge hand he fair crushed my head. It seems Grandda's maps may be a little out of date.
The kindest cleric has taken an interest in my well being. She used spells gifted her by her training and Lorminstra. She found my body and appeared in a fog. But the evil creature was lurking still and smote her too! It then added insult to the injury by picking her up and hurling her down the slope! It took some of her friends to come in and pacify the creature and find her body. I felt deep sadness. She has laughed it off and seems to find it amazing that I could even get to the slopes. I have no idea how I got there, I just went.
Later, after I had recovered from my yeti experience I decided to explore some more. The name should have given me pause, but down the Vipershroud trail I went, until...bam! That seems to happen a lot. A viper struck me. Again my tart loving priestess friend had to retrieve my broken body.
Side note, she loves tarts, but not tarts in the way Great Uncle Melifson loved tarts. She likes the sweet tarts, though that one red head tart of Great Uncle Melifson's was quite sweet...please, skip this part when you read this letter to Mum.
I think I should wait until I am a bit older to do more exploring. Still no luck in breaking Grandda Helve's code.
Winding paths and mountains tall
Gentle winds and bird's sweet call
Forested slopes and lakes so clear
Be always certain, death lurks near
Your brother,
Merod
~6~
Sweetest Esse,
I guess I should tell you of the other bane of my existence: lock picking. Though it is not the picking that is the problem. It is the traps. I will tell you of some of them. I pray that it will not be too gruesome for your delicate sensibilities.
Firstly there are scarab traps, magical insects of sorts. The initial one that I tried to disarm simply scared me to death. Apparently you have to have some arcane knowledge to be able to disarm them properly. After a kind cleric had returned my soul to my body I proceeded to pick my chest only for the bug to scare me to death again! It seems that kind of scarab returns to the lock after its grisly task is done.
That kind? What? Yes, of course there are more. Remember how I could never do two things at once? Yes, I hear your sigh. I echo it. I cannot carry on a conversation and pick locks at the same time. I forget to check for traps or having found a trap promptly forget to disarm it. I have firsthand knowledge of most of the scarabs this way. Some will cause you disease. Some will poison you. Some will burrow into you and suck out all of your blood. Some will cause spores to germinate in your lungs and cause pain for a long time. Truly they are awful traps.
So, finally I was able to disarm scarabs. They pop out onto the ground. Bright and shiny they are. Oops! It seems you have to disarm the scarab on the ground before you pick it up. I am getting to know the local healers quite well. Oh, even if you disarm it on the ground, that does not mean that you really disarmed it. I know a lot of clerics as well.
Well crafted box filled with treasure
Warded close in abundant measure
Your sparkling contents I desire
Guarded well by poison, jaws, or fire.
With love,
Merod
~7~
My Esselina,
I know I have made it sound bad, but I have also made many friends. Though my friends can be more deadly than the rest of the lands...one such must surely be an incarnation of the trickster. He delights in getting me into much trouble. But life is never boring around him.
We had decided to hunt one night. He made a black rose appear on his hand and bid me eat it. I thought that it would provide me some magical protection. Nope. It began doing me damage. Being a good friend he drug me to the town square where the healers were able to eventually restore my health before I died. I take no more food or drink from him.
Another night I was exhausted and sleeping in the East Tower where most lock picking is done. Being a gnome I am light. He found me and unable to rouse me dragged me out of town and to a distant neighborhood. I woke up disoriented and had to make my way back to town. I do not fall asleep in public places any more.
Another night we went to hunt the Spider Temple. Oh, yes. It is as evil and horrible as it sounds, but my friend is a fierce warrior and had nothing to fear and would protect me. I have a tendency to get webbed by the spiders and then they can kill me at their leisure, but not with my stalwart escort. It seems that my friend had found some rum that eve. About the time that I got webbed he finished his rum and was so drunk he could not even stand up. You can guess the rest; the spiders, temple priests, and acolytes proceeded to kill me at their leisure while my stalwart warrior friend staggered about apologizing.
I have taken to getting a second opinion before following after my friend.
Spider Temple standing still and brooding dark
Upon your denizens I sought to make my mark
Ambushing priests as they sing their lays
Yet only webbed death haunts your ways
Missing you,
Merod
~8~
Fair Sister,
More fun with traps. Today I failed miserably to disarm what we call a sulfur trap. It exploded in my face and burned me to a pile of bones. The healers really are quite amazing and I give regularly to Lorminstra.
Deep concentration, sweat beading brow
Almost, almost I think I have...got it now.
Fine clear zircon gleaming grand.
Was your sparkle really...worth my hand?
Yours,
Merod
~9~
Lovely Esselina,
Last night I had a bad experience. I was chatting again and got careless with a scarab. It burrowed right into me and started stealing my life. A fellow rogue sent out a quick distress message and an elf with the most expressive ears arrived. I could not have been any closer to death when he began healing me. Yet still the scarab burrowed deeper. He would not give me up and continued to pour life into me. It was late, but finally we found someone to spell the evil creature out of me.
I have not seen anything that I thought appropriate in Grandda's journal so I have decided to try my hand at a limerick. I hope you enjoy it.
Scarab, scarab burrowing deep
Left arm lost to some vicious sheep
Healer! Healer! Heal me faster
Of your arts you are a master
Right one I, would like to keep
Forever,
Merod
~10~
Dearest Esse!
I have done it! I cracked the code that Grandda Helve used in his journal! It seems that though it is written in Dwarvish it is phonetic Gnomish. Only one with an understanding of both languages would be able to figure it out. I am including a passage he recorded well before he became a lord.
"...Oh, the shame...I fear I may die the final death purely from shame and never return a hero to claim the hand of my fair Gnomish love. It all started rather innocently. I have been practicing my skills hard. I hide quite well I think for a young Dwarf. Today rather than on creatures I decided to work my craft on my fellow citizens.
I was hanging around Hearthstone. I had hidden myself quite well and even the Lords and Ladies passing by seemed to not see me. I decided to stalk a passing Lord. Success! He never even saw me. All was well and I felt quite proud in my accomplishment skulking in the porch shadows.
Until. Yes. Suddenly he took off. I had no recourse but to diligently dog his steps, at least if I did not want to be caught. Then I was not quite as sure of myself. He took a path I have never dared in my fledgling career. Amazingly I found myself on the glacier! What a grand adventure.
Until. Yes. Abruptly a frost giant appeared. Before I could speak or move he sniffed me out and smote me most vigorously. The Lord was quite surprised. Less so than by I what happened next. Oh, the shame. I can scarce bear to tell it. The frost giant hopped on my frozen corpse and tobogganed down the glacier..."
>turn journ
I guess I truly am Grandda's heir!
Love always,
Merod
~11~
Scribed by Merod
~1~
Dearest Esselina,
I have arrived in Wehnimer's Landing. It is a huge, bustling city full of wonder and danger. I have kept myself busy these first few days running errands from Moot Hall for the City government. They are simple tasks, which have helped me to familiarize myself with the merchants and byways. The few extra coins they provide are welcome as well.
I have been directed to the Adventurer's Guild, which offers tasks for coin and offers some other nice benefits to its members. I don't feel comfortable venturing into the wilds quite yet though.
I have little besides my daggers and Great Great Grandda's diary. My understanding of Dwarvish is improving every day. Hearing it spoken in the market and around town by dwarves has helped immensely. Though it sounds as if their mouths are full of rocks. But in speaking it I fear I will never be able to be understood. A simple greeting had every dwarf within hearing distance laughing in scorn at my attempt. I did try a mouth full of pebbles; they tasted horrible. I thought that I sounded much more authentic but the laughter was pretty much the same. I will stick to the written Dwarvish and soon I hope to be able to translate the journal.
I will write more as I can.
Your loving brother,
Merod
~2~
Dear Esse,
I have decided to follow in the footsteps of Grandda Helve: I will be a famous rogue! After all, it was the stories Mum's Da told us of him that brought me to the Landing. It is only fitting that I trace his path. I am not nearly as strong as a Dwarf and that will hamper me some. It takes a lot of equipment to feel safe.
But one sixteenth Dwarf does not make up for 15/16 Gnome. We gnomes are more dancers than pack mules. Still I think that my natural agility will serve me well in my chosen profession. I will just have to be very choosy about what I carry.
Do not be alarmed about what follows.
|I have been outside the Gates of Wehnimer's Landing. It is dangerous. I have even died. No! Do not cry. Lorminstra is kind and makes provision for death. There are priests and healers here that can do amazing and wonderful things. Death is not permanent. Yet.
I met the local sheep. They are not like our sheep. They are demon spawned in hell sheep with huge teeth and cutting hooves. They are called rolton and though I can not speak for the entire species, the one that I met this day does not like to be petted. Though it did like the hand that I petted it with. It liked it so much that after it had eaten that hand it went to work on the rest of me. Fortunately a kind stranger dragged my body to the town square.
There a kind empath healed me and a kind cleric returned my soul to my body. "What," you ask, "is an empath? A cleric?." An empath is a healer. They have the amazing ability to take the wounds from an injured person and transfer them to themselves. The oldest and best trained ones can take a pile of bones and clothe it with flesh.
And the clerics? Priests they are. But far more skilled than our simple country priests it seems. When communing with their gods they can return the very soul of a person back to her body.
But enough of that. Dwarvish is coming together for me and I am able to read it fairly well and better every day. Grandda Helve's journal is in some kind of code and I will keep working to break it. But his poetry is simply in Dwarvish and I have begun to translate it. I will include poems here for you.
Here is the first:
Helve I am and axe I wield
Strike from dark need no shield
Leg I take with first blow
Second shot, they never know.
Love always,
Merod
~3~
My Dear Sister,
I am dying quite regularly.
I met the local deer. Only here they are called velnalin. Velnalin are to deer as rolton are to sheep. It seems as if everything wishes to kill me. The sheep have fangs. The deer have sword-sharp horns. I hear the cattle have the same. Where are the cute bunnies? The cuddly squirrels? The adorable groundhogs? If I saw any of those around I would assume that the wished to eat me even more fervently than I them.
RThis place is a very warren of death traps for the unwary.
I am beginning to hold my own a little better. My training as a rogue is teaching me to hide and strike from the shadows with two daggers.
Kobolds and orcs and all manner of evil creatures infest this land. Much of my time is spent cleansing the land of their taint. On the up side they sometimes carry boxes or treasures or coin. I am meeting many helpful adventurers and am working to upgrade my equipment.
Another skill I am learning allows me to try to pick the locks on some of their boxes.
Fel-hafted war axe in my hand.
Deep in burrow take I my stand.
Though weary at end I may fall.
Still evil feel cold iron's call.
Yours forever,
Merod
~4~
Dear Esselina,
I have visited the Adventurer's Guild! Though it seems to lead to just more inventive ways for me to die. Guild Taskmaster Rheteger give tasks and pays upon their successful completion. He is supposed to give tasks that are commensurate with your abilities. I have been sent to forage for rare herbs that the healer needs, for gems that the dealer in jewelry wants for commissions, to kill critters troubling local villagers, find and return lost children, make the roads safe by killing bandits, and to find personal items lost to the depredations of evil creatures.
Those older than I hear of being tasked to take dignitaries or travelers to distant towns and protect them along the way. It sounds quite glamorous!
But the reality?...Foraging ends up poisoning my hands. The gem dealer always wants the gems I just sold before getting a gem task. Have you ever tried to get a small child to keep up with you in broken country?
Crawl around on the ground looking for an earring, with orcs about, really? Kill how many? Oh, and let us not forget... bandits... and not just the bandits I am supposed to go after. No, they would be hard enough to track down, all 15 or 21 of them, but noooooo.
There I was on the trail to Solhaven. It is a town rather close by with some nice shops and other darker places. But the trail is fairly safe. Large ogres lurk, but if one is careful they are not too dangerous. I am moving along when all of a sudden, bam! Out jump a bunch of bandits, highwaymen, robbers, thieves, and various unsavory minions of lawlessness and they waylay me, ambush me, a rogue, and leave me dead lying in the road! Then along comes a group to take care of them. By then it was too late for me.
Unfortunately, the next day I forgot that Rheteger, guildmaster of the Adventurer's Guild, born of parents unmarried, may his name ever be cursed, had given me a task of clearing the
trail of bandits of my own.
I was heading to Solhaven to check the pawnshop for good used equipment when all of a sudden, bam! Out jump... well you get the picture. I now make sure that I never go on a trip when bandits are about if I know of them.
Most odious Master Rheteger, Sir
At least never have you required a fur
For task rendered you give me a fee.
No other redeeming quality I see.
P.S. Remember I told you of Lornminstra and death not being permanent? It is her kindness that allows priests to preserve our bodies till the healers can restore them. It is her provision that lets the priests return our souls to our healed bodies. It seems that I now have used up so much of Lornminstra's favor that I have to make offerings to her to return my soul to my body. She requires gifts of gems or coin. If your gifts please her she bestows her favor on you and your return to life leaves you a little weak for a while. If you do not have her favor it takes much more effort for you to return to your full strength.
Always yours,
Merod
~5~
Dear Esse,
I decided to get out and see some of the wider world. What a mistake that was. There are numerous maps included in Grandda's journal. I decided that I would explore some of them. Wentoph looked like a good area to which I could move my hunting. Krag yetis seemed to be within my talent. I was quite tired of kobolds and velnalin.
It was a difficult trip. When I got to the slopes I hid and crept along stealthily. Alas, it was for naught. A huge krag yeti discovered me and with a single blow of his huge hand he fair crushed my head. It seems Grandda's maps may be a little out of date.
The kindest cleric has taken an interest in my well being. She used spells gifted her by her training and Lorminstra. She found my body and appeared in a fog. But the evil creature was lurking still and smote her too! It then added insult to the injury by picking her up and hurling her down the slope! It took some of her friends to come in and pacify the creature and find her body. I felt deep sadness. She has laughed it off and seems to find it amazing that I could even get to the slopes. I have no idea how I got there, I just went.
Later, after I had recovered from my yeti experience I decided to explore some more. The name should have given me pause, but down the Vipershroud trail I went, until...bam! That seems to happen a lot. A viper struck me. Again my tart loving priestess friend had to retrieve my broken body.
Side note, she loves tarts, but not tarts in the way Great Uncle Melifson loved tarts. She likes the sweet tarts, though that one red head tart of Great Uncle Melifson's was quite sweet...please, skip this part when you read this letter to Mum.
I think I should wait until I am a bit older to do more exploring. Still no luck in breaking Grandda Helve's code.
Winding paths and mountains tall
Gentle winds and bird's sweet call
Forested slopes and lakes so clear
Be always certain, death lurks near
Your brother,
Merod
~6~
Sweetest Esse,
I guess I should tell you of the other bane of my existence: lock picking. Though it is not the picking that is the problem. It is the traps. I will tell you of some of them. I pray that it will not be too gruesome for your delicate sensibilities.
Firstly there are scarab traps, magical insects of sorts. The initial one that I tried to disarm simply scared me to death. Apparently you have to have some arcane knowledge to be able to disarm them properly. After a kind cleric had returned my soul to my body I proceeded to pick my chest only for the bug to scare me to death again! It seems that kind of scarab returns to the lock after its grisly task is done.
That kind? What? Yes, of course there are more. Remember how I could never do two things at once? Yes, I hear your sigh. I echo it. I cannot carry on a conversation and pick locks at the same time. I forget to check for traps or having found a trap promptly forget to disarm it. I have firsthand knowledge of most of the scarabs this way. Some will cause you disease. Some will poison you. Some will burrow into you and suck out all of your blood. Some will cause spores to germinate in your lungs and cause pain for a long time. Truly they are awful traps.
So, finally I was able to disarm scarabs. They pop out onto the ground. Bright and shiny they are. Oops! It seems you have to disarm the scarab on the ground before you pick it up. I am getting to know the local healers quite well. Oh, even if you disarm it on the ground, that does not mean that you really disarmed it. I know a lot of clerics as well.
Well crafted box filled with treasure
Warded close in abundant measure
Your sparkling contents I desire
Guarded well by poison, jaws, or fire.
With love,
Merod
~7~
My Esselina,
I know I have made it sound bad, but I have also made many friends. Though my friends can be more deadly than the rest of the lands...one such must surely be an incarnation of the trickster. He delights in getting me into much trouble. But life is never boring around him.
We had decided to hunt one night. He made a black rose appear on his hand and bid me eat it. I thought that it would provide me some magical protection. Nope. It began doing me damage. Being a good friend he drug me to the town square where the healers were able to eventually restore my health before I died. I take no more food or drink from him.
Another night I was exhausted and sleeping in the East Tower where most lock picking is done. Being a gnome I am light. He found me and unable to rouse me dragged me out of town and to a distant neighborhood. I woke up disoriented and had to make my way back to town. I do not fall asleep in public places any more.
Another night we went to hunt the Spider Temple. Oh, yes. It is as evil and horrible as it sounds, but my friend is a fierce warrior and had nothing to fear and would protect me. I have a tendency to get webbed by the spiders and then they can kill me at their leisure, but not with my stalwart escort. It seems that my friend had found some rum that eve. About the time that I got webbed he finished his rum and was so drunk he could not even stand up. You can guess the rest; the spiders, temple priests, and acolytes proceeded to kill me at their leisure while my stalwart warrior friend staggered about apologizing.
I have taken to getting a second opinion before following after my friend.
Spider Temple standing still and brooding dark
Upon your denizens I sought to make my mark
Ambushing priests as they sing their lays
Yet only webbed death haunts your ways
Missing you,
Merod
~8~
Fair Sister,
More fun with traps. Today I failed miserably to disarm what we call a sulfur trap. It exploded in my face and burned me to a pile of bones. The healers really are quite amazing and I give regularly to Lorminstra.
Deep concentration, sweat beading brow
Almost, almost I think I have...got it now.
Fine clear zircon gleaming grand.
Was your sparkle really...worth my hand?
Yours,
Merod
~9~
Lovely Esselina,
Last night I had a bad experience. I was chatting again and got careless with a scarab. It burrowed right into me and started stealing my life. A fellow rogue sent out a quick distress message and an elf with the most expressive ears arrived. I could not have been any closer to death when he began healing me. Yet still the scarab burrowed deeper. He would not give me up and continued to pour life into me. It was late, but finally we found someone to spell the evil creature out of me.
I have not seen anything that I thought appropriate in Grandda's journal so I have decided to try my hand at a limerick. I hope you enjoy it.
Scarab, scarab burrowing deep
Left arm lost to some vicious sheep
Healer! Healer! Heal me faster
Of your arts you are a master
Right one I, would like to keep
Forever,
Merod
~10~
Dearest Esse!
I have done it! I cracked the code that Grandda Helve used in his journal! It seems that though it is written in Dwarvish it is phonetic Gnomish. Only one with an understanding of both languages would be able to figure it out. I am including a passage he recorded well before he became a lord.
"...Oh, the shame...I fear I may die the final death purely from shame and never return a hero to claim the hand of my fair Gnomish love. It all started rather innocently. I have been practicing my skills hard. I hide quite well I think for a young Dwarf. Today rather than on creatures I decided to work my craft on my fellow citizens.
I was hanging around Hearthstone. I had hidden myself quite well and even the Lords and Ladies passing by seemed to not see me. I decided to stalk a passing Lord. Success! He never even saw me. All was well and I felt quite proud in my accomplishment skulking in the porch shadows.
Until. Yes. Suddenly he took off. I had no recourse but to diligently dog his steps, at least if I did not want to be caught. Then I was not quite as sure of myself. He took a path I have never dared in my fledgling career. Amazingly I found myself on the glacier! What a grand adventure.
Until. Yes. Abruptly a frost giant appeared. Before I could speak or move he sniffed me out and smote me most vigorously. The Lord was quite surprised. Less so than by I what happened next. Oh, the shame. I can scarce bear to tell it. The frost giant hopped on my frozen corpse and tobogganed down the glacier..."
>turn journ
I guess I truly am Grandda's heir!
Love always,
Merod
~11~