The Circle of the Old Ones

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Thread starter #1


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The very old journals of Ufred

Ufreds journal, the first chapter.
The past, who I was, it is like a dream – a pleasant dream. The vast icedesert – the mountains, the snow, the cold and the peace. Sure we had wars, I was a housecarl – I fought, I killed men, soldiers and occasionally we enjoyed the spoils of war. Did I murder – yes, I was a soldier and a murderer. We all are, us warriors. That is what seperates us from the rabble, we are strong and the best of us are without illusions of heroism.
Did I have faith, yes – I did my duty at the feasts of the gods, I lit the fires and sang the songs when the old woman of the village sacrificed. And yes I honoured the spirits of my forefarthers. Was I a man of God – no.
Did I believe the village wise women when she sent me on this holy quest – no I did not, I thought she was insane. But I had no choice.. she dreamt that I went down south, she heard the voice of the gods, they commanded her.. to command me. I did not believe her, I perceived it as a unjust exile. How wrong I was.

How different I am now. No more honourable duels, no more fair fights, now I lurk in the shadows, I observe my victims, I study and I strike when they are alone. No funeral pyres for them, I mutilate their bodies, drink their blood and sacrifice their heads to the true god… to Great Cthulhu, the old one.
I hardly recognise myself. It is good that my thane does not see me like this. He would be disappointed.
Katla the wise woman ordered me to go to Tindrem, the smelly old capitol of this decadent empire that once was strong. There my fate would find me she said.

For many days I just walked the city and did my best to survive without calling too much attention to myself. Then one morning, I found myself strangely compelled to go to the city center, at the great bank, this disgusting gathering place of all the merchants and thieves. To my great amazement there were a great fire arranged in the likeness of a spiral at the square. I just sat there and watched, mesmerized I feel asleep. When I woke someone had stolen my coin and my food. Cursing myself for my stupidity I left in a rage. Avoiding that place for almost a week… one early mornig I found myself again walking to the bank. Again a great bonfire was built, it all looked so ritual, again I feel asleep and woke up with empty pokets and a cut purse. Damned thieves. During the next days I was continuously pickpocketed in that awful smelly city.

Many days went by, it seemed as if the thieves could smell the copper in my pocket, I never managed to hold on to my coin for long. I hardly got any sleep, seldom ate and those hardships took their toll on me. One morning, with many silvers in my purse –I decided to go to this place they called the bank. If I could just make it to the counter my money would be safe. I was in a sleepdeprived haze when I saw the great fire bult in front of the bank.
I stopped, watched and listened to the flames eating the wood, slowing gnawing away at the logs, my mind raced, I thought of the deep forests in which so many animals find shelter, I thought of the hunters and gatherers in the forests, of their produce, of the merchants who buy it, sell it on to the crafters, thought of the smiths and carpenters, the butchers and of all those that buy from them. I thought of the hard labour of all these people and I thought of the thieves who produce nothing. I thought of the forests burning. Thieves, ike the fire they only eat away at life. But without the purpose of the fire….
Then the voice came out of the fire. It spoke, god spoke… to me.. to Ufred Kainsen of the north. It spoke of the horror of the city, of man, of thieves, it spoke of the past before all this filth infested the earth, a time where there were no thieves, no crafters or merchants… when there were only the fight, the hunt, the kill and the feast. It spoke of the time when the gods walked the earth and the earth was pure. It told me to come home, to go in the fire and be the fire…. And so I did and I learned much from it.
I learned my purpose, I learned how to address the dread voice of the fire. I learned its names, the name Great Cthulhu, the name Hastur and the name Nyarlathotep. I learned that I am to set them free, that the fire might free us all from both the thieves and from the filthy laws. They are one and the same, laws and thieves. They thrive from each other. Define each other. Without one the other will cease to exist. This I learned from the fire.

Now, every night I dream of the true god and its tomb, deep below the waves, every day they speak to me, direct me. Direct me to the people I must kill, those whose heads are needed for the ritual that will raise the gods again. Why this is needed I do not understand, I am no philosopher or magician. I am a soldier and do not need to understand… I follow orders. Master commands and I obey, and so today I am a man of God.
At times it has been difficult, I am not used to brutally cutting unarmoured men and women down, I try to separate what the Master need from what I do on my own accord. I do believe I still have honour in my dealings with the people of Nave. I hope.. I try. But in the end everyone must obey the Master. And those that do not, will burn.

I’ve been busy, so busy, there have been no time to put letters of ink on paper. Writing is a difficult task for one such as me, Before I came to Tindrem all I knew was how to put my name on paper.
I wonder if it is even worth the effort… I mean, if I fail… no one will care to read it, and if I succeed…… will anyone be left to read?
I wonder, cause I have seen the world burn and I was watching and laughing. Laughing my lungs out, blood and lung tissue on my lips and laughing still, the pain was pleasure and the fires all around were pure and wonderfull madness. I am alone in this vision, the others are gone, dead at my feet, even the old sarducaan who told me to make this journal and who taught me to write. I haven’t told them they will die, I honestly don’t care cause I really don’t like them. Except for the little conjuror, I liked that one. Too bad he disappeared.

This sarducaan, my lord Cthulhu told me to seek him out, told me he was sent to assist me. He is an ugly old man, smells as bad as he look. He claims to be a seer and a sorcerer. Never have I met such a disgusting man, always cursing and swearing, he behave as if he is my better – even calls me boy. I am not telling him that our lord showed me his death by my hand. When I first found him near the docks, he was lying drunk in his own piss, he presented himself with the pompous title “the great architect of the second coming of our lord Cthulhu”. Nonsense, the true god does not depend on that weak old man, I am certain of it.
Apparently he is the secret leader of a small circle of faithfull who worship great Cthulhu and Hastur. Most are sarducaan, but one very comely young woman is Tindremic. If she wasn’t so arrogant and smelly I could certainly show her some good times.
Ever since I met these people, the sarducaan seer have constantly been nagging me, how many heads? What are your plans… tell me about the visions… why haven’t you gathered more heads….. tah, as if it was up to me, and as if he was my boss. I take the heads when Cthulhu tells me to, no more no less. He did not accept that and even gave me heads and said I could sacrifice them… hah, I threw them in the water by the docks. I only kneel to my lord and master, not to him.

All have not been duty. Happily I have found the time to take up the noble sport of jousting. This has been a ray of light in my long ordeal. A whole week went by without the voices and I spent all my tme jousting and riding… I was even able to sleep every night for a whole week, this have done me good. I fear that I was becoming unhinged – as they say – due to lack of sleep.
Ah that was good times. I fear those times are over.
A forthnight ago my master spoke again and blood flowed, heads were put in the sack and the sacks were rapidly filled. I hunted in the streets and in the graveyard, I hunted in the sewers. I even cut off heads from corpses that I did not kill. But I succeeded. Only one escaped me, the thief Princesa. I spent a long time chasing her, both in Tindrem and in Mohin Khur. I chased her until the master revealed an alternative sacrifice to me. Last I saw her, she was mocking me from a rooftop….. Then and there I decided to kill her whenever I see her – even if her head is no longer needed.

I waited for three days before the Tindremic woman returned from the wilderness with the message that the road was clear for travel. She is very decorative but she is no scout, I didn’t even reach the bridge to Fabernum before I was attacked by a warrior riding some strange and mean looking beast. Heavily laden and on my all important pilgrimage I had no choice but to run. He caught me just as I reached the city gates, the guards just watched, likely they were chocked by the sight of this beast he was riding. He struck me down, but Cthulhu watched over me, and the warrior left both my horse and the heads for me to retrieve when I came to. Cthulhu will reward him, I am sure of it.
One of the sarducaans from the circle brought me two new horses, one to ride and one to carry all the heads, this way I could fight if need be. When the Tindremic woman once more wanted to scout ahead, I told her what I thought of her scouting skills. She was not happy about it, no not at all.

The night before my departure I had a disturbing vision, I saw a small but capable group of zealots in the south west. Zealots who would hunt and kill Cthulhu’s faithfull and even me. Bloodthirsty fanatics who pray to the false gods of Nave, who reject the truth of madness and chaos. Zealots who refuse to be set free from the repression of law and man made gods. I awoke bathed in cold sweat. Heeding the warning from the master, I immediately left town. I am sure that they would have caught up with me, had I waited but an hour.
The travel was without serious incident, and I thank the true god for guiding me safely to Toxai.
Now I have been in Toxai for more than a day, how much longer? One day, a week.. maybe more.. only the master know it.

All is ready, all is prepared. I have the disgusting woman robes, smelling of tindremic sweat, I have the 18 heads, I have the ritual. I only await that the voice commands me, then I go to the island and do the ritual that will release my lord.
The world shall burn when the true gods return. Pure madness and blessed chaos will rule and filthy law shall be no more.

Nothing! Really!?... nothing! No answer, no voice in the fire, no voice in the dark of night.....
A whole month in Toxai, praying, sacrificing, reciting all the long difficult multiple syllable sentences I’ve been taught. Nothing, no answer, no directions….. no guidance.
I had to leave, I knew that my Master needed me elsewhere… otherwise THEY would have spoken to me.

The clerk in charge of the Toxai Bank Vault really eyed me out, when I deposited 18 decapitated heads, adding to the 18 already in the vault, he now had the severe responsibility of guarding all 36 heads for me…
He did not seem very pleased by the honour though… Perhaps I shoudnt have told him to guard them with his life.
I am sure he thought me criminally insane. What of it? What do I care what some unclean banker thinks of me, they will all burn in the end, I am certain of it.
On the journey back to Tindrem all I could think of was the zealots, would they make an appearance – oh I prayed they would.. I’m sure the blood of the false prophet would drive away the dark clouds of doubt that haunted me so.

I knew in my gut that in the corrupted and smelly capitol lay the answer and the unfinished business I had to do. I had failed my Master, I knew it… one, or maybe two of the heads now in the vault were given to me by that damned Sarducaan magus. I shouldn’t have trusted him, not after my vision of his death, the same goes for the rest of them… I saw them all dead by my hand, and this was the meaning.. the only reasonable interpretation… they were the reason the Old One would not answer my call. I rode through the gates of Tindrem strong in my intention of killing them all.

Such folly and arrogance, the moment I entered that cursed city the voices began speaking…. Telling me of unfulfilled sacrifices, of filthy thieves I had to put in the sack and offer up to the Master. They told me of a certain thief who was not filthy but pure in the core.. a being so purely mad and chaotic that it had been driven to ask for initiation into our select circle… and the voice demanded that I – Ufred Kainsen should perform this initiation.
The old Sarducaan doubted me, he doubted the voice – he wanted to offer this alvarin thief up as yet another failed sacrifice, but for once I insisted. No, I said. No killing and cutting of heads… this one’s soul is for the Master I said…. The master told me so I said. And the old ugly man obeyed the voice as I do.

But I am arrogant, selfsufficient and apparently still bound by filthy honour. On the very night I was to initiate this pure being into our circle – I was tempted beyond what I could resist.
The enemy from my nightmares, the false prophet, the blasphemous leader of the Zealots – came to town. I freely admit it, I was overcome by the thought of me, myself, defeating my Masters enemy, I thought of the glory in my victory and not of what my true purpose in Tindrem was.
I saw him outside the city, I readied my lance and charged him. Immediately I was bombarded by a storm of arrows from the city guards. The fight was lost before it even began. Oh the disgrace, the stupidity… my failure.

The circle of the faithful cared for me in a very fashionable mansion in town, all my needs were cared for, and had I not been cursed with visions reprimanding me of my failure – it would have been a very pleasurable time. But alas, I saw how the old drunk Sarducaan initiated the pure novice in a amateurish way… this was meant to be done by me, and I fear that the consequences might still haunt us all.
After a forthnights recovery, I was ready. The Sarducaan met with me, he told me of his vile plans, plans I had not seen myself and I seriously doubt that they are the plan of our Master. He had brought a black siodan barbarian to Myrland. A barbaric cannibal whom he apparently trust more than what the Master tell me in the night.
We had a great argument, the old man, the barbarian and I. They wanted to pursue some elaborate plot involving cursed merchandise and mercenaries. They wanted to deal with our enemy by mercenaries. I told him that I had seen that the head of the false prophet were pivotal in the ritual. he said. He knew all - and had seen what I had to do. I insisted and the old man simply stated that the mercenaries would bring me the head of the false prophet.

Why does this bother me so I ask myself… is it filthy honour that demand that I face down our enemy one on one? Or is it because I suspect that I have to kill him myself, to personally cut off his head for the ritual.. I do not know, but I am certain that I do not feel comfortable with these mercenaries that have been hired by the old drunk.

I did as I was told, the voice that led me to the old man also said I should follow his orders – so I do as he ask, even though I do not trust him much. He seem unclean in motive – but I am no reader of neither minds nor men. The voices in my head decide what I do.
I went back to Toxai and performed the ritual.. I did the exhausting rites.. but nothing.. nothing.. no answer, no gates opened.. and I knew, I knew not to trust this circle in Tindrem. I knew only to trust the voice in my head. I knew whom to sacrifice.. the false prophet, and I knew that I had to compete with the mercenaries and assasins of my former friend and present leader - to get to him first.
I think it would be unwise to show the old man this part of my journal.
Thread starter #2


Junior Member
Three partly burnt pages, found by the city guards on the dead body of an anonymous alvarin pickpocket in Tindrem.

Considering that the writing is beautiful and the paper expensive, it is presumed to not be the work of the thief.

The fog had been seeping through my ragged leather clothing for hours, I had waited for two whole hours in my favourite spot behind the pillar. It’s a remarkable thing, waiting and watching, every guard knows this – in the end, we all pray for the enemy to come. And if we don’t, we shouldn’t call ourselves warriors.
Every few minutes I stepped out in the open, bow in hand – arrow primed – but no, the enemy had not appeared.
When they appeared, my mind had become somewhat fogged and trancelike, as the fog below me.
At first I thought it was a sensory delusion caused by lack of sleep and water…. The shape in the bloodied red and black robes… I blinked and it was gone. Retreating behind the pillar I decided to call it a day and hunt my enemy after a meal and some sleep.

Then they appeared. Two figures in flowering blood red and night dark robes.
By instinct I raised the bow and let an arrow loose on the nearest… it cut deep and the shape beneath the robes flinched in pain and cried out… wait!

This outburst somewhat calmed me, this strange apparition was flesh and blood – while aiming at its head I responded as cold and cool as possible.. Why?
It seemed as if this apparition were steadying itself and its voice now gained a cold and arrogant confidence as it spoke… Would you not embrace the darkness and leave the light…. We have a great power for you if you will embrace our darkness….
Spontaneously I just said: yes… explain… Beneath the hood spattered with dark blood I saw a movement like that of a smile.. it spoke even more confidently… there is a price to pay for power….. your soul….

Oh, I knew this game, I already played it once before.. I couldn’t help but laugh as I said: but I already sold my soul…. But it haven’t been collected yet – and I managed to restrain myself or I would’ve said, so I can sell it again right… the apparition were silent for a moment and then spoke once more: to whom?
Counting on the unquenchable curiosity of old occultists.. I answered: that information have a price old man.
The apparition spoke, obviously irritated and ignoring what I just said:
Meet us at the sewers and bring us a sacrifice……
oh this game I knew by heart, old hooded occultist demanding sacrifices in return for golden trinkets and never fulfilled promises of power… I’ve made a good living out of this before.
Well it had been a boring day, my enemy had not dared appear, my lust for a kill unfulfilled, so I accepted.
I should have been wiser, especially when I saw the hooded men disappear into thin air in front of me… I blame my tiredness for not thinking other than: what a nice trick…

Burnt part of page

....I ran to the meeting point and were ordered by a now very confident voice, to bring them the living and willing flesh of a veela. I bit my tongue to not offer them five. Little did I know. Much would I regret.
It didn’t take long long to get a veela there, the usual – help me, I have a bet with a friend who doesn’t believe in the size of your ears – trick worked as it always does. I never cease to be amazed at some peoples naivity. Even though I was the naïve in this particular trick. We went there and I presented the veela to the old man, I kinda expected him to just cut her throath and be done with it.. but no, he started talking and I realised that he was serious, he wanted a willing sacrifice…

Partly burnt and unreadable page

...Your sacrifice is pathetic, you have failed, the demonic voice roared as lightning and magic fire exploded around us, my willing sacrifice were burnt to a cinder as well as all the bystanders… and the explosion threw me several meters and I hit the city wall … when I came to, the insanely large monster.. no, the demon, where still there and the two hooded men also. Now they didn’t seem the least mortal, old or fragile as before….

Most of the page is burned
……..have you done you ignorant naïve woman, your traitorous soul belong to me, you cannot sell it twice.
Completely struck with terror, realising that these old gods are as real as my own tender flesh, I told about the man who sacrificed to the demon at the sewer entrance, I told everything and all, begged for forgiveness and swore on my twice sold soul that I never ever would betray my first…….

The rest of the page is burned
Thread starter #3


Junior Member
information from the Circle

Thread starter #4


Junior Member
Four letters found among some unburned trash in a backalley in Tindrem.

(very old letter, dated 2,5 irl years ago)
Beloved Uncle
You have incessantly encouraged me to make a journal of my thoughts, so here it is. Perhaps you will not like what you read – perhaps you will find my simple reflections amusing – only the gods know for I am certain you will never share your opinion of my writings with me.

You who know all, know of my past and of the terrible fate of my family. Even though it is painful – I cannot avoid telling it again, as it is what guides me to this day still. As you well know – for you know all.

Upholding the traditions of our people and guarding the honour of our family have always been the fundament of my being and my life purpose.
For generations my line of the Rical family served as mounted guards in our Sepat. We were the scouts and the law enforcers of our lord. And it was the height of our family’s pride when my father was named personal guard to our lord. After fathers passing I was granted the same honour, as it should be and as it should have been for the next countless generations. But a scandalous plot put an end to that, as you well know, my beloved uncle.

Our family never took part in the traditional religion of Sarducca, no we have always belonged to the old and secret religion of our most distant forefathers. We were blessed that our Sepat lord had a somewhat tolerant view on our rites. Most other lords would have had us burned for heresy. It is a great misfortune that you, beloved uncle, did not show such a tolerance toward my brother Khaled and his family - when you, my esteemed uncle, discovered that Khaled had led his part of our line out of the old beliefs, and into the vile foreign sect known as the followers of Umbra.
You dear uncle, set in motion a plot that brought bloody disaster upon our family. Using the dark magicks of the old gods, you tricked Khaled into believing that his foreign god wished him to steal from our good lord. Khaled and my niece Maha succeeded in acquiring the jewels of our lord, no one but myself and you dear uncle, knew the true identities of the thieves. Therefore I know, that you beloved uncle, was the one who wrote the letter to my lord, revealing the names of the two thieves, and I was given the task of being the instrument of my lords revenge. Did you really think I did not know your part in this?

We all bear the burden of our own actions, and no man can transfer responsibility for his actions unto another, nor to circumstance. I killed Khaled, I slaughtered his wife, his small children, his livestock and I burnt their house to the ground. Only Maha escaped me.
I hunted Maha as she fled to the north, across the sea I pursued her. Her ship landed in Toxai and so did mine. In Toxai I learned that she had changed her name to Hyste, apparently the sailors at the docks had a good laugh about the 18 year old child by the name Hyste Rical – I punished them for their insult to my family.
I spent a month searching for my bastard niece - without ever catching her I learned a lot about her. She changed her name and also her way of life. From being a lowlife thief she now tries to become a warrior. She joined a well respected order of knights and her new life also inspired me. I have been sick with regret and shame when considering my actions against my own brother and his household.
In this foreign and brutal Myrland, I am no longer called by my old name. To testify my shame I took the most disgraceful name imaginable. Ilkalb, luckily most of these barbarians do not know our language nor the meaning of my new name.

Yes, many things happened in my life before you joined us here in Myrland, dear uncle. Where I in Sarducca was a decent warrior – here I am among the lowliest and worst fighters, these barbarians know how to fight, and that is the truth. You should consider this when you are scheming against them, dear uncle.
I decided to make amends for my sins, I decided to do good by the people of Myrland – I joined the very same knightly order that my niece are in. Yes, now you know, dear uncle, I presume you already did. Why did I not tell you? Simply because I know you disagree and frankly it is not your business. I am your servant still, and I will remain loyal to our ancient rites until death. Never will I break my holy vow to the old gods of our family. My vow to kill Maha is the last vow I will ever break. So you need not fret about this beloved uncle.

Ever since you arrived in Myrland, you have often asked me why I am so gloomy and why I do not put more effort into realising your great schemes. This is my answer:
Your arrival in Myrland was the worst day in my new life. I do not trust you as I should, I no longer have faith in our old gods and I dislike your choice of companions, our rites are ours alone and I believe it is a mistake to involve the natives of Myrland in our family business.
There, I said it. Beloved uncle, you asked for my thoughts and here you have them.. this is the truth. But don’t worry, I will do the rites that tradition demand of me, I will assist you because you are the patriarch of our family. But I will not lie to you, as this is also a sin.

In obedience
Ilkalb Rical

(old letter dated 2 irl years ago)
Most Beloved Uncle
The war(First War of the Southern Bend) is over! I am certain it will please you to know that both Hyste and I are well and without serious injury. I know that you do not care for politics.. but for your information, we lost the war. I'm sure other soldiers will disagree and call it a draw or a fair peace treaty. But the truth is that the soldiers of the 7th legion and their allies are vastly superior to the soldiers on our side.
As this the great war of our time has ended, then your scheming will start anew. Hold back your hounds of hell for a moment and listen to my proposal.
Hyste and I have reconciled during the war and she has agreed to return the family blade to you. She ask nothing in return, but she hope that you will return her friendly and generous gesture. Khalid took the blades to stop our sacred rites, but Hyste have no interest in our religion. She simply want to be left alone to live her life in peace.
She freely admitted to her involvement with the alvarin who gave you the fake blade, it was a naive plot on her part and she now realise that it might lessen your faith in her word.
In her defense I have to remind you, that it was you, dear uncle, who first hired that alvarin to rob her of the blade. He brought it to you, and you dear uncle, managed to have it stolen a second time and then it ended up in Hyste's possesion once more..fate?
She is as ressourceful as any of us, she is a Rical and is touched by the Old Ones, as we all are. Dear uncle, I urge you to make peace with her.

With respect
Ilkalb Rical

(recent letter, undated)
Beloved uncle
I hear you have been cleared of all charges and have returned to Tindrem, this must be very pleasing to you, I am sure.
I also heard that you have send your tindremene kallard halfbreed to hunt Hyste.
I understand your anger and I deeply regret my part in her scheme. I had no idea that the blade was a forgery, who would expect her to use the same ruse twice?
But you who know all, saw through the plot, I am sure. You asked where I stand?
You know very well my position on this, I will never raise my arm against family again. I will assist you in the rites and nothing else. I will protect the family - even against itself.
To put it in plain words... if I see one of your hired thugs assaulting Hyste, I will defend her. If I see one of her hired thugs assault you, I will defend you.
Dear uncle, there are plans to rebuild Tektons Bridge to Sarducaa, when this is build I will leave Myrland and return home. When you find the gate and the right sacrifice, send for me and i will come for the rites.
With the deepest respect
Ilkalb Rical

(recent letter, undated)
Beloved uncle
I am happy to hear that you are doing well in Tindrem.
No one remember the name Rical here and I have found some degree of peace. I have banked my armor and lance and are trying to make a living as a Gamel breeder in Beth Jedda. I have discovered a common peasant-like sort of peace.
Dear uncle, I know your visions have likely shown you this already, but I have some tragic news about my niece Hyste.
The day before yesterday I spoke at lenght with Hyste about you and the family blades. It was a fault to presume she had no interest in our rites. Her sole purpose is to prevent you and the matriarch from using it in the rite. I say it and not them, because she believe she know which of the four blades are the right one. It is the one that belonged to the old matriarch that Hyste is named after, Maha Rical.
She lost two of the other family blades to highwaymen and brigands, but the right one - the MahaRical and the elRical she still posses.
The swarm of thugs and murderers you have sent after her have had a profound effect on her psyche. She was always slightly neurotic, but now she is positively paranoid and scared out of her senses.
Maybe she is going insane, but I had the distinct feeling that she knows alot more about the rites than she said. I could be wrong, but I believe she hinted that the man you have declared to be the chosen one, is in fact a fraud. I now believe that her constant travelling, is not to escape you and your thugs, but to avoid the true champion of the Old Ones. She said this: When HE comes, the true and pure holy evil, he will eradicate the false and true believers without distinction, all we can do is to die. Die by HIS hand or die trying to stop him.
She continued to talk about the Glass Furnace deep in the desert. She speculated that the intense heat there, might be enough to destroy the sword. She seemed determined to bring the sword there in an attempt to destroy it or at least place it in a inaccessible location.
This morning, I saw her leave Beth Jedda in the company of Soboles the Rogue. I overheard them discussing the best route to the Glass Furnace.
As she has not returned, I presume that she went there and burned to death and the blade is now melting away in the heat of that crater, lost forever.

With respect
Ilkalb Rical
Thread starter #5


Junior Member
A private letter from the head of the Office of Heritage and Citizenship-
to the Captain of the Guard


I write you privately, as I know very well that I can count on your discretion.
We are both acquainted with the testimony of Macrinus, as well as with the fact that a certain Sarducaan merchant have fled Tindrem for the second time.

We are both practical men, and I therefore presume that you are as eager as I to catch and interrogate some members from the inner circle of that Sarducaan cabal of demon worshippers that have taken root in our fair city.
Please circulate this wanted poster among your most trusted men, and be discreet about it.
Let us do this "off the record", but let us do it.


(with the letter is a copy of the wanted poster for the Circle - this letter is also found in the thread about the Company of Tindrem)
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