Dear Brother Abisola,
I hope this missive finds you well; I apologize for not writing sooner, but events have moved at their own unpredictable pace, of late. In my last letter I detailed the plot against our beloved abbot on the part of monks whose names have been decreed by His Eminence damnatio memoriae. Thus, you will not see me speak of them further here. Suffice to say their wicked plans failed, and justice has been meted out accordingly.
The witch is not, in fact, a witch. She is a druid, of the Cloud Rite, by my estimates. She bears the marks of the School of the Unfettered Sky and her accent marks her as a native of the once-Kingdom of the Air. Her abilities were instrumental in securing the Tome of Echoes and defeating the demon summoned by the heretics’ recklessness.
I am inclined to think that she is related to the knave-elf that proved so adept at picking locks and sussing out alchemical plots. This I could deduce from their mutual body language. The thief, Cat, makes a fine attempt at a Waterlands accent, but her soft ’s’s give her away as another Air native. She is clever, and dangerous.
The warrioress is something more of a puzzle. If I were to hazard a guess I would place her in those northern hinterlands where the border once ran hazy between Earth, Wrath, and Order, when there were borders at all. She was strong, determined. Not subtle, but chain demons require such a lack of subtlety. The abbot sensed a longing in her, a need. Romantically I might call it a destiny.
As I detailed in my previous note, they have been laden with a geas by a dead dwarven king. You can guess which one. They’re on their way to the Temple now, Angels and God preserve and defend them. The abbot has promised all support to them, should they succeed where so many others have failed.
He is certain that is not a promise he will need to fulfill.
I… am not so sure.
The ground shifts beneath us. We live in interesting times.
May Earth Preserve You,