Since the opening of the Dark Portal, the Gallow’s End had found its occupants to be fewer and fewer. While the details of this mattered little to Abric, its unforeseen result of peace and quiet was a boon he found pleasing.
Sitting at one of the many tables within the common room, he was going through the correspondence his spies and goblin mercenaries collected for him, detailing the more public details of the movements of the Horde and Alliance. From a stack on the left, he would take one of the pieces of parchment to briefly scan for importance. If unnecessary, it was placed to his right. If useful, it would be folded neatly and held to the candle on the table.
Those of particular interest, he would call for the Innkeeper, Renee, to bring him blank parchment and ink. While she would grudgingly comply, Abric would write something and set it aside to dry before folding the original letter and setting it on fire.
For hours, he would do this. Taking the time in the quieter afternoon, Abric would keep informed of most of what his ‘allies’ and enemies were gloating or talking about to the wrong individuals.
This day, something most particular took his attention. Written on a small piece of dried lamb’s skin, it was a message from a shaman that dwelled in the Throne of the Elements.
The pink-skins grow in number. The ancestors are in danger.
“Interesting. Renee, I require another blank parchment.”
Tapping his finger against the message, he waited in thought for his request. While other means of information was collected about the increased presence of Alliance in the valley of Nagrand, the confirmation of a shaman seemed to be of significant value.
“Why don’t you just ask for a stack of these and leave the ones you don’t use for me to pick up when you leave, Grim?”
Renee’s tone was sharp, and her stance showed her displeasure of this particular task. The only answer she received from Abric was a disinterested look and his gloved hand reaching out to take the one piece of parchment from her and place it in front of him. She stood there for a few minutes more, waiting for him to say something; but when he started to write she knew it wasn’t going to come.
Whore,
As it seems to be, the Alliance is growing in number within the orc’s self-lost homeland. While I care little for the details or the reasoning, it is enough to move my hand to take some Grim in to investigate. While their defenses at Telaar are adequate enough to keep us at bay, there are enough ways we can draw them out with greed and the desire for vengeance.
On the fifth day of this week, prior to the sun setting, I will be taking a small force of Grim to attempt to draw some of their adventurers from hiding by killing some of the scouts and defenders in their outposts.
~A
Setting the pen aside, Abric raised his head from the paper.
“Redcap; you can be of more use this day instead of prowling about. Take this message to the Mistress, with quickness. You will no doubt find her in the Dark Lady’s Royal Quarter, spending her time staring. I advise if you find this message cannot be given to her own hand - soak it in your own blood to make it unreadable.”
Folding the missive three times on itself, he moved it to the right of him, at the edge of the table, and went back to the other messages awaiting him.