Dear Kailie,

Today began with Mister Reggie exploding not only himself, but half of the house. This may eventually work out to my benefit, as he has now promised to remodel the building in such a manner that would afford me with an actual bedroom, but as you may imagine, it is most unsettling to feel the room next to one’s living space detonate.

It appears as though the sap from those strange trees, which today, the 11th, we have come to call Emberbark trees following a most excellent suggestion from Karth (who never ceases to amaze), is highly combustible. Not only does it appear to repel all manner of insects, it should never be introduced to an open flame or source of heat.

So of course, Reggie was running it through a distillery.

While I was assisting him to the local Druid Circle for help with his injuries (I swear, I have never heard a grown man whinge so much), the rain that had been falling since noon was punctuated by a very loud bolt of lightning. As far as we could discern, it struck somewhere in the forest, not far out of town. Pipi took an interest (I did mention that she is a Druid), and being that I am ever eager to get out into those woods, I convinced Mister Reggie that we should join her. Karth connected with us, and our merrily sodden band sloshed off to the forest to see if anything interesting awaited us at the site of that lightning strike.

We had yet to even reach the edge of the forest when we encountered three of our many-legged local friends. I apologize if this evokes any uncomfortable mental images, but for the sake of simplicity, please allow me to refer to them using the term they themselves identify as: Spiderkin.

The Spiderkin were very upset, and we came to learn that the reason for their distress was that the lightning had felled a massive walnut tree that in turn toppled an Emberbark. The smell of the sap does upset them so, and then of course there is the aforementioned issue that Mister Reggie was so clever to discover of it being highly flammable. I reasoned that this was why the Spiderkin were so opposed to Mister Reggie having a firelight lantern in the forest the first night that we went to tap the trees.

We four resolved to help our arachnid friends by removing the Emberbark tree in its entirety, including every leaf, branch, and twig, which took some hours. Karth got work with his axe. Pipi bribed the local squirrels into helping us collect all the leaves. (I have attempted to include a sketch that is rendered and colored to the best of my ability, for this plain, noisome rodent that so often invades attics in Kethis is stunningly beautiful over here–though, I should note, no less of a pest.) Mister Reggie and myself were able to run back to town and rent a cart and a mule to haul the load out of the forest. All told, we had most of the offending tree removed and unloaded by the evening of the 10th, at which point we parted ways for the remainder of the day and through the night.

I promised us both that I would not focus too much on certain subjects in my letters home. We agreed that it will do neither of us a kindness, and that you would definitely fare ill should particular realities ever become widely known. But gods damn it, Kailie, if there are not elements of this rough-and-tumble mud ball on the edge of the world that make me so homesick, I almost consider coming back. …almost.

Those feelings are somewhat mollified by the fact that Mister Reggie has taken it upon himself to make fabulous breakfasts each of the last two days. His family certainly paid for him to have excellent culinary training. My own father’s insistence that such was beneath any daughter of his has resulted in some laughable attempts on my part at creating even basic meals. But Mister Reggie is showing me some things, and I am trying to learn.

This morning, the morning of the 11th, the four of us reconvened to secure the rest of the Emberbark tree from the forest. The parts of the trunk which remained from yesterday’s efforts were pinned underneath the massive walnut that was its downfall, and had to be left overnight. On our way into the woods, Pipi spotted a curious and concerning sight: Four of the worryingly intelligent, strategy-capable undead were waiting, armed and armored, just inside the tree line. They presented us with a handwritten scroll, a transcription of which I have enclosed for posterity, and left.

It was indeed originally written in Kethic. And despite its being a concern, it did not seem as if there were anything immediate to be done about it, and so we continued with our errand as planned. Pipi even went so far as to transform into a giant badger to dig the trunk section out.

Most of the wood and leaves have now been dumped on the beach so that it may at least be near a ready water source as it dries out and weathers. Samples have been taken to a local lumber mill to see if anything useful may be made from them. I visited with some of the locals to inquire about the name signed to that odd scroll. Reginald and I appear to have come to some sort of understanding about not asking one another about our family background. And now I write to you, dear one, before I begin my evening’s meditations, and hope that even though this letter will not reach you for many, many days, you at least know that you are ever in my thoughts.

Gods, how I miss you.

Yours,

X

• This topic was modified 3 years, 2 months ago by rumor.