Week 41 – Bosc, Plague Doctor
Resounding success! My latest expedition into the Ruins has confirmed what I believed – my new bone-etching acid, utilizing the strain of blight derived from the amulet Pevrel found for me in the Weald, mixed with an activating decoction of virulent botanicals (list attached) in pitch darkness and stored at body heat in complete stillness for one week, has proven to be possibly the pinnacle of my achievements in weaponization thus far. Watching those skeletal nightmares melting to the floor as the fruits of science unknit their misbegotten limbs was magnificent. The others recoiled at the smell, but could not scoff at the efficacy!
Not even the company of that ignoramus Von Kalmbach could render the experience less triumphant. The amount of alcohol he and Gwenllian went through at camp was appalling, and the Light only knows what they got up to after I turned in.
Doubtless I will be seeing them both soon, with unmentionable diseases. I will prepare my most unpleasant salves.
Bosc, Dr. Md., physician.
Week 42 – Vatteville, Arbalest
My Dearest,
Little has changed here since my last letter. We are blessed with safety – at least relative safety. Many wounds, but no one has died since poor Adenay.
Her brother is here now. I speak with him often. He is quiet and sad, but fierce in battle. He reminds me of your father, before he passed.
We delved into the Ruins again, this time to put an end to some heretical prophet who the cultists follow. He was terrible. I do not know how human flesh could sustain the wounds he took and yet live, and the others tell me they thought him slain more than once. Two Eastern occultists were with us, to bind him with their spells and let us end him. They had been there when he was first thought killed. Couer and Howard. I do not think those are their real names, and I do not think they like each other. Couer is a boaster.
My time is up, and I must go. I hope this finds you well.
Your loving mother, Vatteville.
Week 43 – Mathan, Houndmaster
There's something in the air. Went out on a mission in the Weald clearing out infected corpses again, and when we got back everybody seemed… I don't know. Optimistic.
Doesn't really feel right, but it does feel good. We're ready. The Hag's going to die.
I wish I could go with them, but there are other duties. More folks here now and that means fighting and stealing and so forth, and the Light knows I know enough about all of that. So it's going to be Lulubelle and the blackjack and making sure none of these young folks actually kill anyone.
Von Kalmbach and Gwenllian might be trouble. They spend too much time in the Tavern drinking and shouting poetry at each other. I don't know if they understand the other's mother tongue, but they sure seem to enjoy it. Just funny to see a crusader palling around with a heathen like that.
As long as they keep it limited to being noisy I suppose it's alright.
Dr. Bosc's been taking good care of Lulubelle. She looks healthier than she has in months. I'm thankful.
Mathan.
Week 44 – Bossard, Bounty Hunter
Mother,
The Hag is dead. I killed her with my own hand.
Weeks of training and hunting, searching those tangled glades, seeking out the diseased wretches that worshiped that unholy creature… I cannot easily express the abject vileness of the life those witches and their slaves lead. But it is done. Their mistress is dead. Gwenllian and Picvini helped me burn her body, and the Vestal Roussel consecrated the ashes before we buried them.
It will not bring Adenay back, but there is a measure of peace.
Pevrel has changed. He was a tortured, difficult to follow man when I arrived, but now he is firm and decisive, practical and organized, and I can see why he is so relied-upon.
This was a small victory, but there are countless evils in the wild lands and ruins about this little Hamlet. I understand why Adenay stayed.
I had sought to put off writing this. I am not coming home. There is too much here that needs hunting down, and I find that I desire nothing more than continuing the work Adenay died doing.
I hope the enclosed money helps. Please tell me if you need anything. I love you.
Your devoted son, Bossard.
Week 45 – Bosc, Plague Doctor
Bossard is a dunce.
I told him again and again that it was rabies, but he insisted on going on the expedition against the brigands' last artillery piece, and Pevrel was inclined to allow him.
Naturally, the only thing I could do was go along. He did not enjoy the leeches, and I ensured that the tinctures were disgusting enough to teach him a lesson, but at least he is cured.
We cleared out the brigands' den and spiked their cannon before rolling it into a river. I am concerned, however. Their leader, Vvulf, was nowhere to be found. I had expected him to be there, but apparently he had business elsewhere.
There is evidence suggesting that the shrieking bird-thing that almost ate Dismas four months ago is back. Perhaps it carries interesting diseases that I will be able to examine more closely if he is sent to drive it away again.
Bosc, Dr. Md., physician.