Lord Belmont,

Thy hope this letter reaches thee in strong health, Cutberth willing.

As thee requested, this be an account of the investigation into the fate of the Brothers Hammer. As of yet, there be no evidence I hath detect of their whereabouts. For this land I am immersed in is writhe with danger of the vilest scale, hostile to a noble soul as I. Fear not, my lance stands erect and ready to impale its shaft into the slightest evil in search of the truth!

Traveling with my man-orc companion Vorschlap, I hath made contact with the emissaries of the Circle Seven. A small gnome of wise wisdom shared his knowledge with me of the slavers and the pact of followers of the good gods against them. With great joy I am reunited with some of thine old friends with whom last journeyed, as well as newly acquainted with a few fresh souls of a noble, but odd nature.

Foremost amongst them, the Elvish wizard who was our original witness to the demise of the Hammer Brothers. (Thy cannot pronounce his name for every time he speaketh it to mine person it be in Elvish!) This must be Cutberth’s will! For this small fellow who once ran from battle upon the regular seems to have doubled his power if the arcane, though not courage. This elf also conjures a hardy Meat pie the likes of which even the Mistress Belmont would relish inside her moist lips!

Also amongst thy companions the Druid of Latin Blood, Señor Sancho, whom seems to have grown deadly with blade. It must be so his Druidical knowledge is throbbing ripe as thee has plowed deeper roots into the bosom of the earth-goddess to obtain her secrets. His boots tell a similar tale… Truly the most extravagant dress of our party!

It is now I must again speak of the admiration I have of Sir Vorschlap, a man-orc of immense strength and battle prowess. Although a heathen in manner, his warrior nature is not dissimilar to mine own. Personally I look forward to pressing mine back against his as the girth if our manly weapons comes forth for the world to admire.  It is luck of us all we stand together.

Me newer companions are a peculiar bunch… there be the Mature Monk, Brother Bronzefist. A noble and kind man of dark complexion, I admire his vow of unarmoredness. Especially when faced with such a horde as these slavers! Lo, must he hath knowledge pertinent to continued breath nor would such an age be obtained. For under the gentle exterior me senses a frightening ferociousness. Lest me not forget his donkey, a warm reminder of the early days of mine youth spent on the farm, before being adopted into squirehood by you my lord.

There be a one-eyed cleric lady of striking beauty. Her doings baffle mine wisdom, for she consults the advice of dice when questions of fate arise! Thy understands Cutberth’s teachings as be straight forward indeed, albeit die my lord? Maybe the loss of her eye has lost her half her mind’s sight in addition? This brew odd feelings inside mine soul, for she is truly a vision of glory when she stroketh wild a flail in her hands.

They tell me my old friend Cleric Péle traveled with the party across the great river and is feared drowned during a ship wreck, murdered by mermen… This does not ring true in my heart of his demise, I have faith Cutberth has kept him safe from harm as I have faith he has done the same for the Brothers Hammer.

The wise gnome gifted us with powerful magical gifts to use against the slavers. In turn, we have all sworn an a scared oath to our gods swearing those weapons use against thine enemies.  With this message me informs you if our plot. For with haste in the morn we head towards the slavers temple… My courage pulses through my cudgel and mine heart beats hard throughout mine lance. The smell of battle draws near, and the blood of the wicked shall be smote upon the earth.

To Glory! Blessed be the wrath of Cutberth!

Sir Darius Belmont