To the Prefect of the Scotsile Temple
Sire,
I regret to say that I have failed in my duty. I write
this from captivity in the hopes that I can smuggle it out and provide an
account of my disappearance. I am in the hands of slavers, who are abducting
citizens from Scotsile and selling them down the river in Talmatia. They are
keeping us in an isolated outpost in the marshes, and force us to dig in the
swamps. Why is a mystery to me, but I suspect some sinister purpose.
I came to this pass on that unfortunate night that
Brother Jacor and I investigated the abandoned mansion of Almanzar the
Alchemist, reputedly haunted by his troubled spirit. We went at night when any
ghost would most likely materialize. We did not find any unearthly denizens,
but the dangers we found were all too real.
The first floor is infested with giant poisonous
spiders. We killed a couple that we encountered. In one room, we found a
corpse. The man had been bitten and fatally poisoned by a spider. He carried a
whip, club, and shackles. We then proceeded upstairs. In the attic, we found a
series of lanterns, sheets, and ropes. It appeared that someone created fake
ghosts to scare people away.
As we returned to the first floor, we heard a woman’s
scream. We rushed to the sound and discovered a young woman in the clutches of
a thuggish man. She was struggling to escape. We ordered the man to stop but he
knocked the woman down, pulled out a club, and rushed me. His rashness was his
undoing; Jacor and I defeated him and tied him up.
Speaking to the girl, we learned that slavers were
kidnapping people from the city and hiding them in the cellar. At night, a boat
took them through a secret channel to the river, and from there toward bondage
in Talmatia. There was a group of captives to be shipped out that very night.
We escorted the woman to the street and asked her to
run to the Temple for reinforcement. Because time seemed to be pressing, we
decided to investigate the cellar ourselves. Rushing back into the house, a
giant spider ambushed us. It sank its fangs into Brother Jacor, who dropped on
the spot. I killed the monster and checked on Jacor. He was as cold as stone.
I must confess that anger impeded my judgment. If not
for the slavers, Jacor would have been in bed at the Temple. I madly rushed to
the cellar. As I entered, it triggered a trap. An arrow imbedded into my side.
Flush with madness, I ignored the pain. I ran down a hallway, and was attacked
by three vicious guard dogs. I killed one. A second one latched its jaws upon
my sword arm. I kicked it and it released its grip; then I skewered it. The
other dog jumped up, knocking me over. It tried to sink its teeth into my neck,
but I stuck my arm in the arm. It clamped down on my sword arm. I struggled
with the beast until I heard a man command: “Don’t move or yer dead.” I looked
up to see three guards pointing crossbows at me. Unable to fight against such
odds, I reluctantly dropped my sword.
Since then, I was shipped down river to the slave
camp. They keep me here because I can heal the slaves and guards that become
injured or sick.
I am entrusting this letter to a fellow slave who will
be shipped to Talmatia tomorrow. Hopefully, she will find a way to get this
missive delivered. I will continue to report as I am able.
Your brother in service,
Rowan of Scotsile
