Dearest Mum and Dad,

I hope everyone is well since we last spoke. I got that hat that Gran made, and I added a few improvements to it. I think it looks great! When I was last helping with a dig near Thandol Span, it certainly kept the sun out of my eyes. Thank her for me, will you?

My adventuring is going very well, and it's starting to be not a bit profitable, too. Of course, most of my profits are not coming from digs, most of those artifacts go to the League. But I've been allowed a few to sell, and of course I end up with a fair amount of coin and other things to sell when I do errands or duties for others, too. Actually, this brings me to the reason I decided to write in the first place. I know you and everyone at the Inn likes a good ghost story. Who doesn't, am I right?

Well, I had been sent to see why a dig in Duskwood had come to a complete halt - worgen infestation, whole other story, trust me - and while there, I was doing some errands for the citizens of Darkshire, deliveries and whatnot. While taking some items to a scouting post, I came across a rather lonely grave. Now, if you know Duskwood, a grave isn't too peculiar, since the larger portion of Raven Hill is a gigantic graveyard.

But this was removed from all that, and lonely by itself. I stood there for a moment, trying to find a name or any marker, and I quickly became aware that the dirt of the grave had been disturbed. Of course, most anywhere else this could've been numerous things, but in Duskwood, it's almost certainly a sign that the dead no longer rest there. Again, that this grave sat separate from the rest made me want to find out more. You know me, I've never been one to let things alone.

Back in town, I asked around, and was told to speak to a commander of the local Watch. She said the locals were being terrorized by a wandering skeletal spectre named Mor'Ladim, and that if I could do something about it, I would be well compensated. Never one to turn down a town in need, and a bounty as well, I set out with my gun in my hand and Tobias at my side to see what we could do about it.

We headed back to that lonely, chilly graveyard at Raven Hill. Even if you're expecting the undead that roam across those desecrated lawns, you don't get used to it. Hunkering down near an abandoned house not far from his grave, my pet and I hid, waiting for Mor'Ladim. It was only at the deepest hour at night that he came, moaning and scraping up the path. When I stood and ordered Tobias to attack, that spectre gave an eerie, angry cry that shall haunt my dreams at night, I have no doubt. It was a fierce fight, but my bear fought well, my aim was true, and after a time there was little left of the horror Mor'Ladim but a pile of bones and scrap.

We stopped to rest at the nearby camp, and I related the encounter to the scouts. You can be sure, they were all relieved that the monster would bother them no more. They asked if I knew the tale of the grave and the man interred. When I told them no, they were more than grateful to oblige.

It seems that the skeleton was once a great, noble knight named Morgan Ladimore, whose family lived in Duskwood long before the night fell on the woods. He and his wife had two daughters and a son, and he loved them all very much. But when the war in Lorderon came, he couldn't deny the call, and left to fight for Uther and his homeland. He saw many horrid things, the cruelty of the orcs, the spread of the plague, the death of Uther and dissolution of the Hand. Through all of it, the thought of his family and his home was what kept him from madness.

Finally it came time for the knight to return, but when he did, it was nothing like it had been. A darkness had settled over the wood, Raven Hill's cemetery had become gigantic, farms were in ruin and fearful things walked abroad without fear of the light. But more than that, his family were missing. They were not among the villagers of Darkshire, and no one could tell him where they had gone.

Under the advice of a priest, he went to Raven Hill to search amongst the graves. There, after recognizing name after familiar name inscribed on the tombstones, he found the grave of his wife and two smaller stones, and he fell into utter despair. He wept, he railed for hours, and after a time, he began attacking the gravestones in his deepening madness. Three of the cemetery's attendants tried to restrain him, and he killed them all.

Upon the realization of what he had done, the once proud knight took his own life. The villagers buried him hastily in a grave outside the cemetery. But the grief of his past coupled with the murder of innocents, so different from the brave and noble man he had been in life, tore his soul apart and forced him to wander as a mad, vengeful spectre.

This was the creature that I returned to the village in that twilight morning to report I had defeated. It saddened me to know the entire story, and I asked the lady commander if there was any more I could do to try and bring rest to the spirit of that poor knight. That was when she informed me that one of the Ladimore daughters still survived, a member of their Night Watch.

I met with this Watcher, and she tearfully gave me a ring to place at her father's grave, if I would. A dutiful daughter myself, as you well know, I could not refuse. I made my way back to that sorrowful spot where the mist gathered close around that worn gravestone, the destroyed remains re-interred in once-more disturbed soil. There I was spoken to by the ghost of Morgan Ladimore, and there I placed the ring on his grave. When he became aware that his daughter was alive, his sadness seemed to lift. He gave me his great sword, called Archeus, that I might use it or give it to someone that would use it in the Light as it should have been used all this time. I gave him my word, and it rests in my bank until I find someone I think worthy of it, I think you'll agree it's a worthy idea.

Anyhow, Mum and Dad, I could not help thinking of you, standing and talking to Sir Ladimore at his grave. Just know that I love you, and am thinking of you as I wander the greater world. Pass my love to my siblings, Gran and the rest, and take care of yourselves. And perhaps on a silent night, when the wind is still, spare a thought for a poor wayward knight who lost his family and his soul. As always, I remain,

Your dutiful daughter,
Glynnys

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