Jamileh Attar

[zerotje]

Hi Jamileh Attar,

This is a note by Knud. The man who gave you this note cannot read and hasn't bathed for at least... since his birth most likely. Pardon for the stench.

You won't believe what happened after ye were soaked in and gone.
The words they spoke. The magic they unleashed.
The many waves of Tormented we bested.

We want coin and then we'll report everything that's happened straight to you.

Thank you.

Knud and Ivar

[SN]

From:
Jamileh Attar
Ibram's Fine Leathers and Cobbler, Attic.
corner of Qadira street / market square
(temporary correspondence address)


---

To:
Ivar and Knud Skargrimm
Hanged Heron Tavern


---

Boys,

I trust this letter finds you well.

I do not mind the smell at all, after all I am a working woman and I understand what it means to scramble, eat dirt, live in caves and be miserable as shit.

Thank you for being (relatively) gentle during what was certainly misguided events yesterday.

Why did you even pick *me* of all people? I am poor, and I scramble for dinar every day, my job is miserable and I have to keep investing into it to merely keep afloat, scrambling every day.

That is why I have a bit of a soft spot for you, regardless. At least for as long as you do not really do dumb shit like hang around with Meyer and his ilk, or some fucks that are peddling dretch (you know that stuff is made out of Spring Elves, the Eiliri, right? It's as fucked up as it can be), because that is where I draw the line and can no longer have any good words to say about you!

Can you believe that last time I was actually in Frostport I bought a few bottles of Skrol in case we actually run into each other again? Figured it might remind you of home. But then you disappeared and started to do dumb shit, and I ran out of cactus slurp on and outing so I drank them all. Good stuff, has a nice kick.

At any rate, I was coming back because I was genuinely worried for the two of you that you and everyone living in the Creep might get turned into pieces by the tormented, and to actually throw you some money from my *meager* purse because I do understand how this works and it just felt like a proper thing to do.

Anyway, since we are already writing, write to me more, about yourselves.

What is the nature of the Hag curse that Ivar seems desperate to be rid off? You certainly should not trust any dumb voices coming out of a stone, they will attempt to feed on your worst fears and exasperate them, a hundred times over.

Why do you do what you do? This one I think I get, really, to a degree, I think, but I actually do not know and I hate to presume, it's a fallacy of people- presumptions, assumptions and filling gaps of knowledge with nonsensical, inane rambling and calling it truths.

Do you think Ephia's Well is weak and an awful place and that is why you raid the people? To make a name, become a legend? Prove strength, in Agaslakku's name? Or is there more to it, really? 

Looking forward to reading from you.

Best regards,
Jamileh Attar

---

[zerotje]

Kind Jamileh,

That was a lot of words you had me read.

So why you? Well, me and Ivar ran into the Souk to plunder Cogsworth's stupid stall but he wasn't there.
You see, we don't have any spies. We just listen to bellows & rumours and we act. But uh, we ran back to the Plaza to at least grab ''someone'' and between the scorch addled, the homeless and the fourth, you seemed the best pick. Congratulations on the rise of your social status.

As for your view on us, we are not scrambling, we are successful raiders. I have purchased carved expensive statues and an expensive altar, to make a worthy Agasian Lodge underneath your pitiful Well. We are the Palms Height of the Creep! The Palms Below we should call it.

Meyer was a little man, with the courage of a mouse, who called upon dark powers he could barely cling on to. He was a perfect man to use! By his selfdestruction, we have gained much. Cannot fault me for that. I would never brook though, neither would Ivar. When we heard Meyer's Djinn was gaining some territory through his actions, we banned him from the Hanged Heron and the Creep. He's out there, or dead, without protection. Through a man called Zak we were offered much coin to go kill him and we are going to! If he isn't dead. But, judge us however you would like. It does not matter. I speak truth plainly and fear no judgement. All that matters is myself and Ivar.

I never heard of Dretch.

I would love some Skrol. I miss it so much and I know everything about it, it's from Frostport! My beloved hometown. Uh. If you want to be on my good side, bring it to me. You can hear all the truths I have to give.

Can't tell you of Ivar's curses and hexes in writing, it's up to him. Simply come visit and ask him all about it. He has the right to be vengeful and feel vexed. Life was rough for my brother.

Why do we raid Ephia's Well? Pfeh, isn't it obvious? Because the people are weak and hold large purses! And in my raiding I have come to learn that they are a disloyal, conniving and treacherous peoples. Stabbing each other in the back, joining my side, begging me to halt my assaults, leaving others to their ill fate. And those in defeat, who spew words of superiority as they lay bleeding on the ash. With lofty titles, unearned, with ambitions meagre and fates unfulfilling. Truly the Ephians deserve everything bad that come their way, I feel this in the very core of my being! Poor Kha'Esh that would place trust in such a Citadel of Traitors. Makes me laugh! My legend carved here will outlast the tales of many others. Agaslakku wears a Bronze Smile as he gazes upon the battles I engage with this treacherous people! Praised be The Raider. When fame and treasures have amassed, I will sail to Frostport and take the Jarl's wife for my own. And have the people choose between a fattened weakling or Knud, son of Skargrim, chosen of The Raider and Conquerer of Ephians.

So it is written, prophesised and fated.

What I have to ask you is- why did you brook so much in my Lodge, and made of my altar to a SPOKE a brookered altar, crimson and foul, evil and blasphemous? You did me a great disservice.

Regards,

Knud son of Skargrim

[SN]

From:
Jamileh Attar
Ibram's Fine Leathers and Cobbler, Attic.
corner of Qadira street / market square
(temporary correspondence address)


---

To:
Ivar and Knud Skargrimm
Hanged Heron Tavern, Palms Below


---

Knud,

Very nice, I have a hate / love relationship with correspondence, but people don't really write letters these days, mostly demands, so I am actually loving this, because those are letters!

I am glad to hear you have been successful, that is more than I can say about my lengthy archaeological career, rarely anybody has actually paid me for my work, and it is a money sink, in truth.

Cogsworth would have been terrible to kidnap, you know. He is extremely poor. He makes a big face and makes big words, but truth is, he is barely holding it together and due to his social graces being very similar to that of a stone bench and an inflated ego, he will never admit needing help. People are like that.

There even was a time I was so desperate for funding that I had to wear a skimpy, very tight skinsuit, very revealing too, for Zaniah's enjoyment for a few minutes, she paid me a few thousands for it. She became a Legate a couple weeks later, and then I think someone murdered her, but I am unsure as I was on vacation at that time, reading books.

I am very happy to hear that you scorned Meyer and kicked him out of the Palms Below. When he captured me, I was terrified, he was too far gone. He is dead now, he was shanked in the Scarp, so there's that. You could have gotten 25,000 dinar if you brought him in alive.

Jarl's wife, I can understand now the motivation now! She is beautiful, strong, athletic woman. How much fame and treasure do you think you actually need to sway her? Will you have to duel the Jarl for it? He claims he has slain one of the last Colossi, but honestly, I am not sure if it is not just bluster (Don't tell him I wrote that though!). Maybe then you will become Frostport's Jarl? That would be quite something.

The thing about Ephians is - they do come together when faced with imminent demise. The words of Iakmes Ir-Emmum still ring in my ears (if it was even him still at that point, when we faced the rage in the Siparri forges, within the SIlverworks of Bet Nappahi - in there, so much clanging, so much bronze, so much unbridled hatred and rage) - that we are a host not seen for Ages. And even he respected that.

It was terrifying. I discovered many truths about myself there, though. Those circumstances have the tendency to do so, making you realize what is it that you actually care about. For me, it was not dying a terrible death. It was the fear of those I care about dying. And gods, we have lost so many. I think, in a way, you would have enjoyed being there. We certainly could have used you and your brother there by our side.

If you are interested in more about what happened there - as it relates to your spoke, the courier I'm sending over with this letter also has a book for you. It is the most raw and detailed account, penned by my dear friend, of what transpired there. A warning, to us all.

Please be very careful with drugs. When I was back in Academia, I did a lot of wild things, but now? It is different. Scorch is really bad. Please don't take it - there's enough evidence that terrible things happen to those that take it. I have been witness, not once, but twice, to terrible, unbridled rage that has possessed the veterans on scorch. Their eyes began to glow and they were filled with this unbridled rage and fury. Which you might think is a good thing, but it is not. Because what came after was a sight I shall never forget.

They exploded, from the inside, in terrible pain. As if their own body ripped itself apart. It is a very real problem and concern and nobody deserves to die like that. So please, don't take scorch. I dip, occasionally, mostly on parties, into some lighter stuff, but that's about it. Rarely any parties these days anyway, it's mostly work.

It is the only thing that keeps the trembles and shakes of my hand away, and it blurs the still-raw memories of all my dead friends and the terror we faced at the Silverworks.  I don't think I will ever get rid of it, but this at least helps. A Sire of Terror, a Sire of Rage. Grief, love, desperation, sorrow is what drives people into doing terrible things. And the colossi of old were not that different.

What is even most concerning, is the amount of manipulation, the invisible strings pulled by those who have now carved their God pillar within the Creep itself, orchestrating events on the Disk for aeons, now.

As for your altar, I am very sorry, but it was not really me. I was as surprised as you were when it started to speak and blood started to pour out. I honestly do not know if it was Tormented, something even worse, or perhaps it being even the same. Questions upon questions, and they remain unanswered. I would rather die, than being bound to any of the djinn courts. That's basically what I told Meyer when he captured me and dragged me to the Scarp, but at least I had something that he needed, so I used that to bargain and thankfully, that was enough. Call me dramatic, but I would have rather use my own teeth to rip my own veins open, than to sign a pact like that.

You would ask why? It is both a complex, and a simple answer at the same time. They never give. They bind you. They will promise riches, they will promise knowledge, they will promise power - but they won't mention the shackles that will bind you, and your soul, eternally into service. Furthermore, my secretary- my adopted son in Ephia's Well - Alejandro Benjazar - after he was murdered by the Qadiran prince, the people who tended to his funeral, brought him to one place they should not have, which resulted in his soul being claimed by a Prince of one of the Courts and it has been trapped ever since. I still wracked by guilt about it, to not have been there to aid. But it will happen in time, he will be freed. Such an endeavor will require cooperation of a lot of people, and trying to get people to work together is worse than herding groknak babies across the desert. Herding groknak babies is at least fun, you vibrate at them, and sometimes they listen, and sometimes they don't. They are very playful creatures! You should try it sometimes.

But people? Most of them always want something in return. Always a transaction. Always something.

Anyway, stay away from Scorch. Or maybe you'd like to raid smugglers that smuggle Scorch into the Well? That would be fun. I could raid them with you, then, and get rid of this disease that is hurting people so much. It is, just simply, fucked up. It's preying on war veterans, those desperate, that have lost limbs, lost hope, and they barely have anything left. What becomes of a warrior, who can no longer fight? When one devotes their life to one and one thing only, and that is taken away from them, what then?  That is who the scorch dealers are targeting and that's just wrong. It's worse than clubbing defenseless puppies, or killing children and elderly who can not even defend themselves. No honour, no glory, just being insidious parasites and vultures.

Let me know what you thought of the book! I'll get some Skrol, and we can talk in near future.

Best regards,
Jamileh Attar

---

[zerotje]

Dear Jamileh Attar,

You describe the Jarl's wife just how she is!
Cogsworth being poor is good to know. Or perhaps you are saying that to protect him.

Ephians coming together only when they have no other choice is not a positive argument for their honour.

Beside that, I have no doubt that the victory in the Silverworks was glorious and well deserved and the horrors that have come form it cut deep. I cannot say I have experienced similar, my raiding has been limited to inside and around Ephia's Well on the streets or on the Ash. Though in terms of terror, I did enter a Djinni's own domain, I remember the air, it was thick and moist with blood. The earth was flesh. The Djinn was Kastante's and he threw himself at the Djinn complimenting it's craft whilst degrading himself. Ivar and I simply bowed in quiet. That was after we tried to fight it by the way, and were found severely lacking. It was impossible to kill that Djinn, I mean it! I've never fought anything as strong as that! Bloody infuriating to be honest with you.

Oh and again, we did not pact. And I agree with your assessment on pacts. Life on the Disc is temporary and only our soul continues, to risk anything having to do with that, is pure madness. To sacrifice the eternal for the imminent. That'd be like sacrificing your life just for some immediate coin. Ah, wait, that's what we're doing, heh heh! Nonetheless ... Point stands.

I've used Scorch in the past, made me an unstoppable monster! Though I haven't utilised it against any Ephians yet, but I plan to, especially if the Pony Knight is coming for me with the Fourth in tow. What else am I to do in order to claim victory? As for your attempt at pulling at my heartstrings for Ephian veterans, that's not worked, for I view the Ephians with great disdain, for reasons in the previous missive.

That is not to say I have no love left in my heart at all. It simply belongs to the Jarl's wife, Ivar, Agasians and Frostport. And those who stand for something. For example, I have a newfound respect for one Elf, Rhys his name, twinaxed and in service of The Storm, Kula. Came to fight me one on one in my invitation and fought valiantly. Of course he could not withstand me. Naturally. But it came close. He managed to taunt me, swear he said something about my mother. Made me miscast my dispelling's most divine. Little Elven bastard.

Hmm, so, if I'd of killed him and grinded him, I could've had Dretch?
Alchemy can be fun after all! HAH! Kidding of course.

Who else do I respect? Rathsvit the Dwarf. He defeated me and Ivar singlehandedly, in our early days. Let us go unharmed, and unlooted. That bastard.

Aurelio and I did some naked fist fighting in the Krak. He won, when I was not allowed Agaslakku's favor. Then I won, when I was allowed it. In the end, I don't know if it counts for anything, but it was good fun. I am just glad there was no grease involved.

You know, you've given me an idea in your letter. I know some dealers in the Creep, and nobody's protecting them. I should extort them!! Hm, want to help? You seem to have a sharp mind for plotting. I lack that, I just have an axe.

I'll get to that book another time. But I will let you know, in a future missive.

Kind regards,

Knud son of Skargrim
Jarl wife thief.