An Unmailed Letter

Dear Mother Superior:

You may never receive this, for I am writing it from a village called Tinker’s Dam, somewhere in the interior or Dag’s Moor. If you have received my previous letters, you will understand how I have come too this condition, but if not, suffice it to say that I found myself on the eastern shore of Lenay with no money and no way to return home, and so have decided to put my training to use, and earn my way back through adventuring.

I was in a village called Whelker’s Deep when I heard of 4 men who had defeated a party of goblins that was menacing the outlying farms. I found these men being feted in the village, and heard many tales of the troubles emanating from the moors. Goblins have been raiding; orcs have been seen; and piracy and other criminal endeavors are legion. A dwarf who works for one of the lords hereabouts was telling how the coach was robbed, and a magic user had lost many valuable goods - it became clear that the men who killed the goblins were becoming enflamed with a desire to go into the moor to seek their fortunes.

I noticed, however, that though there were 4 of them, none of them were priests. It occurred to me that they might be willing to take me along as a henchman (or hench-woman I suppose), for spiritual guidance and medical assistance. So I approached them, making it clear that I could not fight with any effectiveness (for all I could afford was a very old and ineffective suit of padded armor and a half broken shield), but I would gladly offer what services I could in exchange for a partial share of the treasure. They seemed pleased to have me join them, for it saved them the trouble of finding a priest on their own. They are, I think, all strangers to this area. And so we set out.

I say men, though only one is strictly speaking a man. 2 are elves: one a wizard, the other a fighting man, though one with religious affiliation - he may be a paladin. There is one human, a soldier, and one who I think still fancies himself in uniform - in battle, he moves as though he expects the others to form a battle line with him. The fourth is something I have never seen before, though I have heard of such creatures - a kind of dragon looking creature, all black (and calling himself Inky), who is even able to spit a kind of corrosive fire at his enemies. I keep my peace and do as needed, though I do not fully trust these men, especially the dragon creature - he barely speaks, but when he does, he seems determined to shock the rest of us with his cruelty. The others do not seem shocked - I don’t know if they are used to such badinage, or if they are as bad as he is - though none of them seem all that bad. We have been dragging an orc around with us for two days now, for example, when it would have been very simple to kill him or throw him into a river to drown. They may have sinister motives, but so far they have treated this orc with surprising decency.

I should tell you how things have happened. We left Whelker’s Deep - good heavens - it is but yesterday morning! You see how much has happened! We travelled along a coastal road heading north to a place they cal Clamdigger Cove - which is occupied by pirates and smugglers, from all I have heard. We had gone an hour or so on this road when we heard strange noises on the other side of a ridge. We sent scouts ahead - the drgaon-man and the fighting elf (I will call him a paladin; I think that is what he is). They circled up the hill and spotted the source of the noises - a bug-bear and 2 goblins! There was a fight: I have the most confused memories of it. One of the monsters broke through the rest of the party and reached me - I tried to defend myself, but he knocked me down; I think I was knocked out for a while, though I soon car around. I think the fighting might have been over then. I recovered, and was able to help one of the others - though I swear, now, I can’t remember who it was. I was terrified, reverent Mother - not as much while it was happening as afterwards - thinking about it. Later, as we were walking on the road, I could not stop thinking about what had just happened to me, and how close I had come to having something truly terrible happen. I could die: I have been in danger before, but not like that. To see something coming at me, determined to kill me - I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I should add here that we saw a Hill Giant in the distance - I think he saw us, I don't know. No one wanted anything to do with him. Not then at least.

So we went on down the road. I remember as we travelled we saw other things - we were charged by a group of boars - I suspect they had been hunted by the giant, or possibly the goblins, earlier - for they seemed very angry, from the beginning. We killed them; we cut off some of the meat for supplies, though we could hardly carry all of it. There were other things on the road - old ruins; the rotting carcasses of animals; bones; ruined wagons and other detritus - but none of it was interesting to us. We were eager to reach the town; we hastened on our way.

We came to the village at last. Clamdigger Cove is a small village, on a hillside overlooking what I think is a fine, deep harbor. The town, now, is a wasteland - most of the houses are burned out, or stripped to the beams; only the buildings by the water remain intact and apparently occupied. Before we could enter the town we were set upon by orcs, who were laying in wait at the bridge into town. This fight went well for us - the wizard was able to render one of the orcs unconscious immediately; the fighting men quickly brought down the other two. I healed the wounded and we took the unconscious orc with us, down to the waterfront, where we occupied one of the buildings. We made a fire and roasted the boar and kept watches over night and were unmolested. The others tries to question the orc; they batted him and kicked him, but he didn’t say much; I know now he speaks common, so it wasn’t incomprehension - I think he was simply stubborn. But I think too they didn’t care what he had to say, they just felt like knocking him around. He is a vile creature, I must say.

In the morning we went out and were accosted in the street by two men who inquired as to our business. We inquired as to theirs as well. No one seemed to answer these inquiries though. After some time, they went to one of the barrooms that were still standing, and apparently still operating in this town - there, we had an interesting incident. The orc spotted two men inside and immediately began straining at the bonds that held him, shouting insults at them in orc and common, while one of them attempted to get to him and run him through. It was obvious that he and they had crossed paths before, and from the sounds of it, the orcs came off the better. But this was very confusing.

We did not tarry with these men, who were not friendly, and indeed, struck me as hoping for a chance to do us harm. We went instead into the village, a very sad and unpleasant place. The feeling was intensified when we passed the cemetery, for we were set on - in broad daylight - by the undead. I shudder to think of this horror - but we were victorious in this clash, and were preparing to go on when a man emerged fro the church to thank us for saving him. He then told a tale - confused and confusing - about seeing the men from the waterfront fighting orcs; some of them dying, some of them chased away - and some of them pursuing the orcs, the main body of whom seem to have gone up the river with their captured mules. That is where we were bound - the others seemed pleased to know that is where the orcs were going too, so they could fight them. Or recover whatever the men had on their mules. I suspect that loot is the real goal of these men. I can’t complain - the more they make, the more I will be able to get for my services, and thus I hope to be able to return to you soon.

We proceeded up the river then. This brought us into the moors - a spectacular sight. The hills rising up, all covered in green, in grass and moss and stunted trees - it is a beautiful and daunting sight. We were reminded of its perils, too - we had traveled an hour or more and were suddenly set upon by two ogres! I thought - we have no chance, they will kill us - but the others were eager to give battle. And we slew the ogres, surprisingly easily. But the dragon-man fell into another hazard - he charged the monsters, and suddenly seemed to disappear almost without a trace! He had fallen into a mire. He got out - he is strong and agile, he is a warrior after all - but the moment gave all of us pause. The land itself is against us, we thought. We were more careful afterwards.

We came at last to this place. I called it a village at the beginning of the letter, but that is very kind. It is, now, a ruin, and seems to have been ruined a long time ago: there is a ruined mill; there are one or two ruined buildings, that look tike they might have been storehouses, barns, that sort of thing. There are houses, all of them ruined - burned out, or half fallen in. Open cellars and the like. Much of this seems to have happened a long time ago - some of it is more recent though. There are houses where someone has clearly attempted to rebuild a kind of shelter on top of a ruined house - though these are now mostly knocked in as well.

We found signs of fighting - skeletons, stripped of all their flesh; half-rotted - and often, it seemed, half devoured, bodies - horrible! And then - we were attacked, here, by undead - by zombies, they were. We dispatched these - but while we were fighting them, suddenly, we were ambushed by goblins.

The dragon-man killed one of the goblins, who had been sniping from a cellar; we saw another dashing into another cellar, and we went after him with all dispatch. This was a fairly intact cellar where the superstructure of the house was gone - there were some half-wrecked walls, but nothing more. But the floor was intact, and the cellar seemed quite intact. Well - we went there and plunged down into the cellar in pursuit of the goblin - when we did, we were set on by more goblins, waiting for us! They were waiting in ambuscade - and as we went after them - hobgoblins emerged from hidden chambers, and for a moment, things were very frightening. I was not involved in this, not directly - I could see it was a close run thing, though. But again, we survived, and defeated them.

This brought us to the present, more or less. We have taken an hour or so to regain our composure and to prepare for the next step. We can see a kind of road leading up the side of the hills - we know there is an old mine in this area - it seems likely this is the approach to it. So we are preparing before we go to find what we have come here to find.

I am using this time to write these thoughts down. I want a record of things. When I return, I will try to mail this to you - though the condotion of the country these days makes me think it is more likely to arrive if I bring it myself. Though seeing what I have seen these two days, I am fearful for my life - will I return alive from this? I do not know; I fear. But I have come this far, and now I will go on. I will do what I promised these men I would do - I will go with them, offer what assistance I can, and that is all. I will say that having come this far I feel much stronger - more confident - I am afraid, perhaps, because I know the trials we are likely to face - but I am also, perhaps contradictorily, more prepared to face these trials. As if - every fight we survive makes me feel stronger, braver, more ready for more trouble to come.

I must add - I have donned the chain mail worn by one of the hobgoblins. This might have been a mistake - it is a vile smelling object; these monsters are not clean. (Though I can say this: the goblins are almost unspeakably foul, covered in grime, smelly and greasy and horrible; the hobgoblins, while hardly clean, seem almost civilized in comparison - indeed, the stench of this armor seems more like rotten blood, and - various natural functions - as well as the long hard use it must have had - than the natural awfulness of the monster. This is not a time for a mediatation on the relative cleanliness of brutal monsters - but I it were: the goblins are the worst; the orc nearly as bad; the hobgoblins are barely worse than some men I have seen. Though the true horror are the zombies - who carry the stench of death and offal with them to a point that can make you almost dizzy to be close to.)

I will close for now: we are preparing to move on. I will add what I can when I have the chance.

For now - your faithful and loving servant - Novice Claire.