[Bordermarch] The Wall

[Lathrop, Dave]

  Good day to you Baron Mast Lucais du Belier from your mortar man at Border Keep.
I am here to tell you naught but good news of Border Keeps new stone wall and the protection it will surely provide you and your hoard against Baron Armands massing armies.
   Although the formula for the mortar mixture I used was of my own design I am almost certain it will not crumble to dust for I had nothing but good thoughts of you and yours as I constantly fed your beast we affectionately call the "Mortar Mixer". 
  Conceived in the bowels of the earth this beast is a churning mass of iron with an unending appetite for dirt and sweat. The mixture of soil, water and other things I threw into its gaping maw seemed to satiate it for only a moment before it was ready to excrete into my slop bucket the glue we used to hold your wall together. The joy I felt as every muscle in my flabby body strained to tilt the belly of the beast so it could give birth to a new batch of mortar cannot be expressed in words. Through my dust matted eyes I could see the women and children you had working to construct your precious wall watch me as I labored to bring them another load of wet wall mud. Their eyes would moisten as they reached out their undernourished arms in anticipation of more work to be done for you Baron Mast Lucais du Belier. Cracked and bleeding hands lovingly filled every nook and cranny in the wall with my special mortar and more than a few tears.
   My time left in this world has been cut short due to my contracting Mast Lucais disease. You are well aware that the early symptoms of Mast Lucias disease are joint weakness and the impending feeling of doom as one works oneself to death. Though my eyes are permanently mortared shut and my lungs are coated with black dust the beast belched back at me I sort of harbor no ill will toward you Baron Mast Lucais du Belier. The wife and children understand my sacrifice was necessary to assure that your safekeeping and maintaining the easy lifestyle you are accustomed to living is disturbed in no way. I ask no compensation for myself but do beg you to throw my family any bones your dogs will not eat. The diet of roots and grubs we live on due to lack of payment for services rendered does not seem to working out for the family.


In service
Forever loyal to Bordermarch
The mortar man


Flesh is gone and bones be white
Fetch them from thy moat
A final wish to feed the beast
My bones will make it choke


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