A Letter to Peridan Durothil

[Nyssis]

A fine parchment arrives at the main halls of the Sundarian Legion, rolled up like more traditional means of missive rather than the envelopes that society has come to accept. Under the coil of gold ribbon keeping it secure, the outer edge of the scroll reads its recipient inked twice. In Common, 'Peridan Twilight;' in Espruar, 'Peridan Durothil.'

The entire message within is written in feminine Espruar script with aligned sentences that suggests a lot of care went into its creation.

Peridan,

I hope that this letter finds you in good health and faith. I have kept you in my prayers to keep you both safe from harm and safe from exhaustion while you do the less enjoyable parts your job. Written to you here is a message that holds significance for the Sundered Valley, not so much for myself. I spend a great deal of time in pious reflection, but while that does what it can for my spirit it does nothing for the vale.

It has come to my attention that the recent efforts at the Mossdale border to keep the orcish armies in rein have amounted to nil. They are pressing ever further from corner to corner of the country, appearing so far as the edge of the mountains to the east or the Spine to the north. Despite what assistance was lent to the stand at the forest, many men and women died for what is sadly becoming a hopeless situation. There is no doubt in my mind that they would encircle the borders of Sundren with time and swallow whole the capitol if this continues.

While I have little desire to physically join the Legion and lend assistance to the law, as this would conflict with what freedom I need to accomplish things in faith, I want to be informed about what can be done and what will be done. I desire to know what steps the Legion hopes to take to hold ground against the Mossdale, presently or in the future, so I understand where my efforts could fit in. Mastering my sword is at the Seldarine's behest and it will gladly find purchase against Gruumsh's children.

I make no allusions that the government is infinite, nor are the various other forces in the valley that would likewise oppose the orcs. This country may not be my birthplace nor may it ever be a home, but I seek to defend its people to the best of my ability. Please look fondly upon my request and help me in my desire to help Sundren. Should you be too busy to approach me directly, any written reply will reach me at the mausoleum in Sestra.

- L

[Nyssis]

A letter similar to the previous one is delivered to where the Centurio handles his Legion affairs, marked clearly by the double recipient address on the outside surface of the paper: 'Peridan Twilight, Peridan Durothil.' It is likewise bound with gold ribbon like its predecessor, though this measure of coil is of softer make like it's been thoughtfully rubbed or held overlong in someone's hand.

No haste was made throughout any of the Espruar inked within. She put as much time into scribing this missive as the last one.

Peridan,

I hope you are doing well, though the rest of the vale cannot share a similar fate. There is no doubt in my mind that you have received word of the most recent assault near the Schild Mountains. The Bloodmaim orcs were found once again attacking the Veritas rebellion in addition to the Legion outpost a stone's throw from their mount, but this is not the main focus of this letter.

There were talks abound from the soldiers that the Veritas had allied with the children of Gruumsh. I spoke with a member of the Hands of Mundus, Eirimil Gaelazair --- ar-tel-quessir and brother in faith, much like you and I --- after what appeared to be a failed attempt by the horde to take the stand. This was apparently at the behest of 'their rebel masters,' though I assure you that the rebellion is suffering at the hands of the orcs astride the Legion.

Elder Gaelazair is of mind that the Legion should pull back from the stand and regroup before more men are lost on a failing front. He spoke true his desire to contact the hierarchy of the Hands about the matter, yet there is the chance that the orcs' divided attention could be taken advantage of. Death and disorder are both in excess for the good people of Sundren, whereas the Black Hand and Bloodmaim are unified in their desire to see the country burn.

They too proved incapable of listening to reason from myself, Elder Gaelazair or an Ilmatari woman present at the camp. What would put such an unerring thought in members of your Legion beyond the upper echelon? Are men so short-sighted to ignore the dangers that come with attacking everything that is not themselves? They would rather crush the rebellion and the orcs in the same fell swoop and sort out the bodies later, though they may never have the numbers to do so.

You spoke a while ago about negotiations and my ability to be diplomatic, though only time would dictate where this could go. Is this an apt time to inquire about it? As I mentioned before, you can contact me through any written letter delivered to the Jergalite mausoleum if time and leisure are not your own. Twelve keep you safe, my friend. You are in my prayers, as are the men and women that died today.

- L

[Peridan]

A low burning magelight is the only illumination in the Centurio's tent on the Mossdale border as a shadowed figure reads the letter. As the figure moves towards the light, Peridan's face is seen with a fresh and nasty cut across his chin, alongside several other bruises and nicks. His amber eye scans the letter once before he reaches for a quill and a fresh sheet of parchment, and begins to write.

Lasvi,

The tides of war are upon us, and I cannot say for certain what dark thoughts travel through men's minds. Such fear and doubt causes uncertainty in the strongest and most able of soldiers, myself included. We are blindly fighting in the gloom against an enemy that has no end, no exhaustion, and no fear. Such pressures undoubtedly are fearsome burdens on any man.

I cannot control what is said amongst the lower ranks. I can though, assure you that the Legion knows very well who its enemies are in this war, and that the Bloodmaim are too chaotic a force to be allied with. Directed perhaps. Set loose on unsuspecting innocents. But the Hands of Gruumush are foes that know no loyalty to any but their gods. At least, such has been my experience in my own long vendetta against their murderous intentions.

As to your inquiry, I'm afraid I cannot expand on details at this time. My own efforts to staunch the weeping wounds that this foe has caused in our ranks and borders has become an all consuming task. I look forward to your letters, and I wish you the safety and protection of my lord, Corellon.

Sweet water and light laughter is not the most appropriate farewell, but I wish it to you in any case. May we all live to see brighter days.

-Centurio Praetorian Peridan Durothil

[Nyssis]

Unlike the few missives she's sent in the past, this one is far less elegant than the others. Her script is shaky and unwieldy at best, thoughts barely formed in complete sentences that are reminiscent of an illiterate. A shabby thing, her Espruar notes have become, and likely something to make the recipient skeptical of its authenticity.

The format and means of delivery remain the same as before, however. There's just very little care to be had throughout, or she's learning how to write a second time over.

Peridan,

It has been some time --- a long time, too long a time --- since I last wrote anything for another's eyes. And this is not a bearer of good news or mirth as my parting letters may have been, nor might they ever be again. But perhaps you'll lend this your thoughts regardless of whether or not I am scribing something grand.

You know of Sestra, of the farms and the solace; of the graveyard I tend to. Of the pattering rain made loud compared to what peace hushes the roads. As do I.

You know of Adeodatus, of the Zhentarim; of the Banites and their foul comrades-in-arms. Of the corruption they've left behind in man and mer alike. Very much so, do I.

The Dreadmaster of Bane has a vested interest in little unassuming Sestra, albeit for a reason I'm not privy to. So much does he care for the backwater town that he's threatened me to stay away. That he prowls the streets restlessly. That he looms over the hovel with twinkling eyes that emulate the fake twinkling smile on his face.

I have told the Directeur about Adeodatus in the past for less than acceptable reasons --- perhaps I will tell you the specifics someday --- and nothing has come of my every warning. Either my dirgesinger reputation is more sullied by the Legion than I expected, or the Corps find themselves with a subpar leader. Mard certainly seems the biir to let that Zhent walk around freely.

My graves have had far too many visitors outside the norm, and they are harried not by the self-proclaimed Mossdales Forgotten protecting the town. First be it Adeodatus, second be it that bizarre hin, third be many humans with eyes dark from seeing too much corruption, forth be it a necromancer who inquired after the resting place of the deceased Lord of Murder.

The latter revealed to be a god, no less.

The threats I've suffered from the Dreadmaster have been great and many, both his attempts to convert me to his faith and seethed urgings to ignore Sestra. A Hand learned of this entire ordeal from me recently, and I dare think he has the steely nerves to actually pursue giving me some peace. Yet I remain exacerbated.

I know it to be fact: Mard has a tepid relationship with the Legion and he does not think highly of their soldiers. Nor do I, of course, but does this go so far that the Directeur allows men led by a pisspoor excuse for a "paladin" bolster his thinning ranks? Does this go so far that he has some connection to the very force I tried to warn him about?

Your opinion and guidance alone would be more than enough, Corellon willing.

- L

[Nyssis]

Compared to her other missives, Lasvi didn't put much ink to parchment this time around. The next letter to arrive for the Centurio is short and candid, containing barebones information that clearly gets her feelings across. Dissimilar it is from the last, however, for she's actually used the quill with slightly more finesse.

It may not be the prettiest epistle on Abeir-Toril, but it gets the job done.

Peridan,

Mard is both clean and ignorant. At least he has the decency to let me know that the mercenaries in town are doing unsavory deeds.

He who actually calls the town his, on the other hand, may be privy. Either the Exarch is too trustworthy or too corrupt to be ruling Sestra; perhaps too careless in what is said to be blind mourning. 'Twas he who originally allowed the Mossdales Forgotten in, and between they and the Dreadmaster Sestra has seen darker days than usual.

The very least I wish is to assuage and prevent the residents' further suffering. I am to help the Directeur and the Corps get to the root of the problem, but this just became significantly more difficult.

Mard says that there is likely no link to be found and that the Exarch is probably oblivious to any ulterior motives. I, for one, do not trust this. Something is wrong.

- L

[Peridan]

After a long week of patrols, the dour one-eyed elf takes a seat to read his letters that have been waiting. His frown deepens when he scans Lasvi's letters, and he takes out a quill and begins to write a response.

I apologize for not replying to your missives sooner, Lasvi, but I'm afraid my duties have been taking up most of my time here on the Mossdale Border. The Bloodmaim have recently been hitting our camps harder than even in the last few months, and it's taken a toll on all of us.

The Dreadmaster is known to me, as is his apparent 'trustworthiness' in the eyes of the law. Personally, I think the slippery bastard needs a blade through his stomach.

I will not be able to reach the main valley for some time yet, however I would vouch for Mard's honor and trust. He has inherited a position held by idiots such as the Sunite Knight, Cirion, and actually done some good for the town.

From what I understand, the Hands are active in this as well. Do not trust them completely, for they always have an ulterior motive, but do trust that they have the safety of the nation in mind.

I will return as swiftly as I am able, but I cannot promise more than that for now. Watch the Dreadmaster carefully, for he is very likely one of the more dangerous Banites within the valley.

Corellon guide you, abbil.

[Nyssis]

A seam folding partitions into this parchment shows that she was considering sending it in a neatly packed envelope, but opted out of it for a traditional ribbon-bound scroll once she discovered how much a pain in the ass wax seals are. Thankfully, all other signs of her experiment aren't marring the paper. Beyond the folds, there's only a single line of address bearing her recipient's elven name.

While the typical letter would probably begin with a blessing or wishing well or some other excessively formal cordiality, Lasvi is as blunt as usual and gets straight to business. His health is not something that concerns her, considering how audible she's made her faith in his strength and guile.

Peridan,

The mausoleum had a group of visitors of late. 'Twas some masked man who ventured into the building itself first, later joined by another once pressed for questions by me and a magi of the Hands. They confused me for Maia and were startled that "I" wasn't dead by their hands, though this revelation wasn't enough to spark hostilities.

Arfaern Gaelazair came by amidst their banter and it was enough to scare them off, though not 'fore they locked the barrier and flooded the foyer with poisonous gas to flush out or incapacitate us. We were fine, yes, but as soon as the gas dispersed an undead attempted to claim a tome from the archives.

You recall my mention of a necromancer looking for a dead god, yes? One of the bookcases that said undead got its hands on contained a book related to the various Bhaalspawn and where they fell in combat. The other Hand believes there may be one such resting place in the vale that the undead wish to exhume.

How a corpse could spell revival for the parent god is 'yond my comprehension.

I know all of the apparent graveyards in the Sundered Valley like the back of my hand, but I fancy the corrupt body of a god's child would desecrate the soil where it lie. I likewise fancy my own guesses. Do you know of the Abaddon's source or what exists deeper within?

- L

Although she hates random chitchat, the contents of this letter are somewhat out-of-character for her. In fact, Lasvi's epistles to him of late have all been about small happenings or details.