My hands are tired; my eyes are weary; my bones ache. I've been counting coins for hours. I'd assemble a small pile, let it fall over, and then begin counting anew. I thought that the service had hardened my spirit. But alas, too many burials have cracked me. If I was a wise man, I would retire, right here, right now.
Common folk avoid the patch of land hosting former members of the Redwood Raiders. Sometimes I stand there in silence, gazing upon the hastily dug graves. Baron Grellus joins me from time to time. He seems to take some perverse pleasure in hearing about our tribulations and successes. Death of common folk amuses him.
I buried brother Amos myself, leaving a lock of my hair with him. Dommo, the "holy" man whom joined us at the bandit keep, tried to pawn his holy symbol. Asher, another man whom joined us, eerily reminds of Calamatix. All talk and no action. I'm afraid that Amos was the last of honourable men of this rag-tag band of adventurers.
What else have I buried with Amos? Besides Peach, of course...
Few gulps of stale ale wash away melancholy, and I manage to focus on work at hand. I've decided to take on the cursed battleaxe and robe that Amos wore in his last moments. Since the axe murmurs the owners name, I've commissioned a practical leather cover that mutes it.
Besides that, I've been penning the letter for the Mage's Guild, situated somewhere in the capital of this damned region. I've passed it once, but never thought I'd be asking them for help. The words have been failing me for days. I've sent it just yesterday, via the Redwood Guild Master. I paid a hefty price.
Here is a copy of the letter, in case I need to resend it:
Most esteemed Grand Mage,
I go by the name Rarder Brete, The Liberator of Redwood Keep, The Pacifier of Yeoldelands, and The Hound of Baron Grellus Redwood. As you know, every Mighty Warrior has a trusted Wizard to rely on for sage advice, arcane matters, as well as divination
Acting under the patronage of the Baron Grellus Redwood, I've been leading a band of adventurers in securing the Yeoldelands borderlands, dealing with impure creatures, foul Wizards who have opted to shun the natural law, and a vast array of Enemies of the Lawful Order.
Recently I have established a foothold, a frontier fort, merely a day away from Redwood. During my campaigns, I have liberated a number of arcane objects—scrolls, books, interesting contraptions, and so on.
It is for this reason I write to you, most esteemed Grand Mage.
I humbly request you send a promising apprentice, one who does not fear adventure, nor hard and perilous life of those at the forefront.
He would be expected to work on above arcane objects, contribute to future expeditions, and overall success of our venture. In return, he would be fairly compensated in gold, items, and recognition. There are many wondrous and magical items beyond the borderlands.
Upon arrival, the apprentice would be rewarded with 100 gp, a riding horse, an equipped laboratory, and accommodation—if they can summon Your official letter of recommendation.
Should the apprentice be of right quality, and hardy enough to survive the wilderness, I wow to make a donation to your cause. The apprentice will find all instructions at the local Guild Master.
With respect,
Rarder Brete
Oh, I pray they send someone as bright as Rozza. Either way, there is much work to be done. Recruiting mercenaries, organising transport to our future fort, preparing for meeting the castellan...
My hands are tired; my eyes are weary; my bones ache. I've been counting coins for hours. I'd assemble a small pile, let it fall over, and then begin counting anew. If I was a wise man, I would retire, right here, right now. But alas, I am not.