A Letter from Drezen

Item · 65 gp · Weight 0.1

"Lady Galfrey, Drezen has fallen. The city is lost, and may you be damned. May you be damned for sending us here. For not telling us that the worst fate isn't death. For promising the protection of your 'holy banner,' which did not save us from the monsters. For not being with us. Where were you when the squad of Smiling Knights was dying, but did not cry for mercy, but held the pathetic little street leading to the temple? Where were you when our blood filled the gutters, and mixed with the sewage? Where were you when our will and our spirit was broken, beaten, and left sobbing like a wharf wench? Your throne is built upon the corpses of naive fools and adventurers hungry for glory. I realized this when the demons brought Commander Verstol into the square and threw him into Sarenrae's healing fount — and then lit a fire beneath it. The Commander was boiled alive for three days, while Sarenrae's once merciful but now cruel blessing prevented him from dying. His skin was covered with blisters and slid off his flesh. We stood in the square and watched, the cold wind torturing our own naked bodies. Our blood flows from our wounds, as if it's trying to flee this horrible place. Deprived of water, our throats crack and bleed. Deprived of food, our stomachs dry out and wither. For three days, the Commander could not die. His meat grew gray and smelled so sweet; I hated myself for wanting to taste it. Commander Verstol stopped screaming by the first midnight. By dawn he could only grunt. On the third morning, this stern man, who had no mercy for himself or his enemies, was crying like a baby. His tears were endless. He was literally cooking in them! Then the fount finally cracked, and he died. The new ruler of Drezen, the demoness Minagho, dined on his flesh. But she was not greedy. Each of us prisoners, tortured with hunger, received a piece of the Commander. Do you know what a person cooked alive for three days smells like, Galfrey? Writing this pains me greatly. Some terrible insect stung my hand during the battle. Now it has swelled to twice its normal size, and it's the color of raw beef. The skin is about to burst. The heat is melting me, body and soul. But I will finish this letter so you will know all. Because there will be at least a drop of justice in this, if you are brought to understand what has happened to us because of you. When I finish writing, the demon will send the letter to you with the last of the charmed doves you gave to Commander Verstol. They ate the others. This letter will earn me a chance. I will crawl at their feet, and beg for mercy. I will give any oath. Because I can't take it any more. Enough is enough. And may you be damned. Not your loyal servant any more, Knight Jermon"