[Bordermarch] (no subject)

[Lathrop, Dave]

Nomis,



Your skill at keeping secrets never ceases to astonish me!



Some bad news; my official food taster is suffering from what can only be called a rare case of "Politicytus". Without proper guidance, he overloaded his noggin with too much learning.

I can no longer trust his judgment, and I constantly worry that his throat will continue to bloat. The brewer gave him some medicinal mead with sweet bitters to stave off the swelling, but the concoction merely slowed the twitch in his eye.

I would ask that you once again seek and procure the Jimwat bush that's indigenous to Kingdom Gleann Abhann; return as soon as possible. I believe if we squeeze enough Wat juice from it we will be able to produce a poultice. The Night Shuffler says we should tie the poultice to his shaved scalp She insist we must ward his head lumps from the moonlight's pale kiss. We shall leave it in place two full weeks or until it begins to smell like a dead sardine.

Since the onset of his infliction, Bordermarch has been overwhelmed with travelers offering up to our populace strange digestible delicacies; they reek with hints of poison!

Make hast with caution, for the Seventh Hand of Kebol's Assassin's Guild has sent word that foreign spies were recently discovered in oversized meat pies.



I shall offer up a prayer this very night and ask that at least a semblance of your wit returns to guide you, and protect you from harm.



HE Santiago











Your Excelency Santiago,



I am deep in enemy territory performing your requested reconnisance and I must report that you were right, the Shire

of Blackmoor Keep is ripe for the picking.  It seems that Gleann Abhann is caught sleeping and not ready for your

plans.  I think that this territory, once pacified, will be a great stepping off point for future sorties.



I must say that I am surprized at your plans of agression, but I feel that they will work nicely.  If only the

Baroness can keep from talking too much and let out your scheme.



I can smell the roasted goat already.  Let loose the Hounds of War!



Your Freind

Nomis