((Closed to Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Storm Vertias))

Absentmindedly dunking the quill into the inkpot, Letho Ravenheart studied a pair of letters under the light of a solitary candle, liking the contents of neither. The first one was a plea for assistance from a hedge mage of a coastal town of Azore, written on an unevenly torn piece of in barely discernible scribbles characteristic of the wizard folk who always seemed to have no time to spare on proper typography.

URGENT HELP REQUIRED!

Tower overtaken by malevolent force. Town of Azore in danger! Calling out for any experienced hands to help deal with this threat. Sizeable rewards guaranteed!

For further details, please see Fareem, the Master Illusionist.
Normally, Letho would’ve ignored such notices because he disliked mages, their haughty attitudes and their skewed views on just about any topic. They had a bad habit of meddling with things that wound up smacking them in the nose, and any calamity that came from such tinkering was usually just deserts as far as he was concerned. Their quests for knowledge usually toed the blurry line that divided it from quests for power, and they regularly wound up paying a dear price for it. Sometimes it was their residence, sometimes their sanity, and oftentimes it was their very lives. There were some good apples amongst them, sure – his own daughter was a sorceress and he was quite fond of her – but there were also spiders that wouldn’t bite a man. That didn’t mean Letho was eager to stick his hands in a sack full of them.

Yet it was the title of this Fareem that made Letho consider the notice in spite of his intense dislike of mages. Though he couldn’t be in any way certain that this man was actually a master of anything – from his experience, magicians more than any other liked to append bombastic titles to their names – an illusionist was something he could use in the near future. One of his plans for Menel Govannen was bound to involve some dicey trickery, and having an illusionist who owed him a favor was an ace Letho wanted in his sleeve. Hence he had decided to at least visit the town of Azore and its troublesome magician. There was the township to consider as well, after all.

Which brought him to the second letter, and yet another thing he utterly disliked. Written in Letho’s measured cursive on a parchment that carried the emblem of Menel Govannen, it stood as a stark contrast to the mage’s scribbled missive.

Mr. Osiris

Foremost, I feel obligated to reflect on the regrettable event that occurred in Radasanth several months ago. As my daughter might have explained at the time, the creature causing the mayhem on that day was a simulacrum created in my image. It had been unleashed by a demon called Maledoch of the realm of Tar’Shak, but both the demon and its forces have since been dealt with. It was unfortunate that Radasanthians had to suffer such malice, and that you got caught in it as well, but I assure you that such mindless belligerence represents the complete opposite of why I personally stand for.

In fact, such threats to the public are the reason why I am in the process of forming a group strictly dedicated to extermination and prevention of any such occurrences. Though our members are free to pursue or support any faction in the current Civil War, Menel Govannen itself has no political affiliations and aims to play no part whatsoever in this futile struggle for power. Seeing as your Brotherhood of the Castigars seems intent to help Corone through these trying times, I hereby extend a formal invitation to any member of your group interested in doing a good deed to join one of our hunts.

If you wish to further discuss the relationship between our groups, I will be on an investigation in the town of Azore by the end of the week.


Regards,

Letho Ravenheart
Master of the Hunt
Rereading the contents of the letter did nothing to enhance Letho’s mood or assuage his dislike of the situation. Addressing the events of his troubled past to a complete stranger was an affront to his stoic nature, even if he intentionally failed to divulge any details. And he knew so little of this Shinsou and his Brotherhood that he wasn’t certain how much of his assertion of their intentions was actually true. Was the Brotherhood really dedicated to the task of bettering Corone? Letho had his doubts. It was more likely that they were just one of the new buzzards rising in the pecking order as they squabbled over the corpse of once proud nation. They all proclaimed they would make Corone great again, these self-proclaimed saviors, yet whenever they came into power they used it to further empower themselves rather than the populace of the realm they claimed to protect.

But as much as he might’ve disliked the Brotherhood, Letho was aware of their influence. Though they officially claimed no lands as far as he knew, their name was rising in prominence in North Corone, and with Whitevale being less than a day of eastward riding from Azore, it seemed inappropriate to trudge on their doorstep without at least a proper introduction. Thus he sealed the letter with the dual wings seal of the Menel Govannen and hoped that the Castigars opt to send an envoy rather than a posse. Azore had enough troubles on their own and didn’t need another pissing contest.