Samanya Wheathoof

[Samanya]

Inscribed upon a plain sleeve of parchment, it looking a little weathered and torn in places. Particularly, around some of the edges and corners. Written upon it was a batch of mediocre handwriting, that clearly suggested such wasn't her main forte. But, such wasn't really important here and now.

"Ish-ne-alo por-ah, members of the Grim, to whomever may gaze upon these words I've written down. I wish to offer my skills and services to join those that are already numbered among your organization. Permit me to prove myself to serve you well through whatever trials and tribulations you wish to throw my way. The decision is yours to make whether or not you find me suitable to join among the ranks you've already obtained.

Not only do I wish to seek to put an end to whatever danger is capable of warping the land, its origins being foreign much like that of the Legion, or something more local, as in the Alliance. Such a thing needs to be curbed before the land and the various animals that dote upon it are brought to ruin. I await to, hopefully soon, hear back from someone associated with the Grim and I appreciate in someone taking the time to read upon this whole letter.

Signed,
Samanya Wheathoof, Guardian of the Grove

[Acherontia]

The tiny warlock blinks the fel-fire from her empty sockets as she finishes the letter. She dips a well-used quill into the inkpot and writes blindly across the bottom of the parchment, years of practice lending precision to the task.

"Next Wednesday, seven in the evening, Dalaran, The Filthy Animal."

[Acherontia]

A message arrives for the druid, penned in Acherontia's compact, tidy hand.

"It has been decided that you shall receive one more chance, druid. You will be in the appointed place, this Sunday, at the same time. Do not fail again."