To His Lordship, the Viscount Wilfrick of Verbobonc,
This faithful servant has certainly spent more time in the Marholm than I would have previously thought. It might be the hospitality of the enlightened Jarl, Runholf the Dandy. It might be the wealth of Wyrmnal knowledge that I've acquired, including basic competency in speaking their language and reading their primitive runic alphabet.
Or it could be the two cases of wine from Verbobonc vineyards that just happened to appear with your envoy. I am grateful for your impeccable timing.
The concept of a royal or noble court is foreign in Wyrmnal, but there are still numerous circles of influence. I have nestled my position with Runholf somewhere between foreign novelty and persistently useful sage or scribe, My belly is full and my coin purse remains steady, thanks to the generosity.
With these worthy platitudes recorded for his His Lordship, I must swiftly change the topic that my I may have worn out my welcome here, and hopefully did not unintentionally sabotage the trade negotiations of your envoy, Rainier.
As your unofficial representative, I have striven to act friendly yet professionally to all. It is not a secret with the Jarl's great hall that I have not only the approval of Runholf, but of at least two of his wives, Hridul and Myhilde. Equally intriguing and intelligent, I have spent many a long night in depth conversation with these women on topics the local men deem unimportant to a woman.
Things were going swimmingly until it was discovered the Myhilde is with child, and she has not been part of the attentions of Runholf for quite sometime. Others who do not approve of wisdom and learning in the Great Hall may have spread rumors that I am the father of Myhilde's child.
While I guarantee My Lord that this is an outright lie, I have discovered that the true father may, in fact, be the dastardly elf, Talanth Blackash.
While I am personally aghast that the child will be of vile half-breed stock, the reaction of Runholf to this infidelity most certainly would be her death. Using some of the Jarl's funds, I have arranged to have Myhilde spirited away by a merchant vessel to parts west, perhaps the Barony of Markovia, perhaps some seedy port in Crosedes or even Albion, to start a new life with her little elven bastard.
As I finish this letter, my barbaric enemies with the Great Hall are currently riling up the others, probably to torture me, or worse, kill me outright after torturing me. I'm of firm belief that a quick leave moments after giving this to a courier will buy me some time before someone wishes to extract misguided vengeance.
My goal is to work my horse, Mary, south along the horsepaths I've seen on Runholf's maps. I may have to change appearance, alter my persona to a more viking one, or hide out for awhile in some hovel off the main trade road.
I will make it back to Verbobonc, for this Millbottom is not the meek expert of calligraphy and trivial affairs that left the Viscounty months ago.
Your servant,
Elsderth Millbottom
DM Notes: When I first thought of writing up my original AD&D campaign that started back in 1990, I imagined a quick set of letters between coming from an eager servant to a disinterested liege. I really thought that by episode eight, we'd be nearly finished with the original campaign and moving on to other in-world games and campaigns I've run, right up my Ballad of the Pigeon God.
Two factors changed that: (1) Access to modules and issues of Dungeons Magazine to rekindle my imagination. (2) A desire to watch Elsderth grow as a character, with his own adventures, while he catches the after-effects of the antics of Talanth, the Stupid Ranger, and the Drunken Warrior.
We're certainly out of proper chronology for the actual campaign, but we'll address the further fall-out of the elf and his treasure hunt, and perhaps Elsderth will finally make some form a close friend.
With the holidays coming, Lost Dispatches will go on Tuesday hiatus until the New Year. It will give me some time to write up a few more episodes, to purchase a few essential pdfs *for research*, and post a few other Actual Plays, including my Curse of Nevoz Call of Cthulhu game set in early 90's Alberta, Canada.
Next: #9 - Elsderth Gets Drafted
This faithful servant has certainly spent more time in the Marholm than I would have previously thought. It might be the hospitality of the enlightened Jarl, Runholf the Dandy. It might be the wealth of Wyrmnal knowledge that I've acquired, including basic competency in speaking their language and reading their primitive runic alphabet.
Or it could be the two cases of wine from Verbobonc vineyards that just happened to appear with your envoy. I am grateful for your impeccable timing.
The concept of a royal or noble court is foreign in Wyrmnal, but there are still numerous circles of influence. I have nestled my position with Runholf somewhere between foreign novelty and persistently useful sage or scribe, My belly is full and my coin purse remains steady, thanks to the generosity.
With these worthy platitudes recorded for his His Lordship, I must swiftly change the topic that my I may have worn out my welcome here, and hopefully did not unintentionally sabotage the trade negotiations of your envoy, Rainier.
As your unofficial representative, I have striven to act friendly yet professionally to all. It is not a secret with the Jarl's great hall that I have not only the approval of Runholf, but of at least two of his wives, Hridul and Myhilde. Equally intriguing and intelligent, I have spent many a long night in depth conversation with these women on topics the local men deem unimportant to a woman.
Things were going swimmingly until it was discovered the Myhilde is with child, and she has not been part of the attentions of Runholf for quite sometime. Others who do not approve of wisdom and learning in the Great Hall may have spread rumors that I am the father of Myhilde's child.
While I guarantee My Lord that this is an outright lie, I have discovered that the true father may, in fact, be the dastardly elf, Talanth Blackash.
While I am personally aghast that the child will be of vile half-breed stock, the reaction of Runholf to this infidelity most certainly would be her death. Using some of the Jarl's funds, I have arranged to have Myhilde spirited away by a merchant vessel to parts west, perhaps the Barony of Markovia, perhaps some seedy port in Crosedes or even Albion, to start a new life with her little elven bastard.
As I finish this letter, my barbaric enemies with the Great Hall are currently riling up the others, probably to torture me, or worse, kill me outright after torturing me. I'm of firm belief that a quick leave moments after giving this to a courier will buy me some time before someone wishes to extract misguided vengeance.
My goal is to work my horse, Mary, south along the horsepaths I've seen on Runholf's maps. I may have to change appearance, alter my persona to a more viking one, or hide out for awhile in some hovel off the main trade road.
I will make it back to Verbobonc, for this Millbottom is not the meek expert of calligraphy and trivial affairs that left the Viscounty months ago.
Your servant,
Elsderth Millbottom
Two factors changed that: (1) Access to modules and issues of Dungeons Magazine to rekindle my imagination. (2) A desire to watch Elsderth grow as a character, with his own adventures, while he catches the after-effects of the antics of Talanth, the Stupid Ranger, and the Drunken Warrior.
We're certainly out of proper chronology for the actual campaign, but we'll address the further fall-out of the elf and his treasure hunt, and perhaps Elsderth will finally make some form a close friend.
With the holidays coming, Lost Dispatches will go on Tuesday hiatus until the New Year. It will give me some time to write up a few more episodes, to purchase a few essential pdfs *for research*, and post a few other Actual Plays, including my Curse of Nevoz Call of Cthulhu game set in early 90's Alberta, Canada.
Next: #9 - Elsderth Gets Drafted
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