Regional Dispatches

Patchwall 7, 592 -- In the bedchamber of Count Kestor of Corul

by Pieter Sleijpen

It was early in the morning. The fog still covered the valleys like a white blanket even though the clear sky seen from the village on the top of the ridge promised that it would be a typical hot humid day. Unlike most mornings the sounds that greeted Count Kestor were not those of the farmers heading out into the orchards or his servants doing their usual tasks. He awoke to the sounds of hammering in the square of his relatively small keep. For a few seconds he looked tenderly at his beloved wife Owana. Her pregnancy did not show yet. Hopefully though he soon would get a second child to keep his energetic daughter Balinda company. A smile crossed his face, who would have thought that he would become a family man? Then his thoughts turned to darker things and his expression became grim again.

With a sigh he stepped out of bed and walked towards his window, muttering a few arcane words before opening it to supress the arcane wards he had placed on the windows. How he longed to the day that those protections would not be needed anymore, but his former colleagues were still looking for him and something was brewing in the Vast Swamp. He was not sure whether he prefered the raiders from the Vast Swamp both the death and the living to the troubles of Pelsand and Deltree. Though at least he knew all to well what he was fighting. He was no stranger to the Vast Swamp or the undead that haunted it. He hoped his wards and those placed here by the clergy of Pelor would proof strong enough against the vampires and ghouls that seem to plague his county.

When he looked outside he saw that the executioners platform would be finished in time for the executions of that afternoon. He did not like to condemn anybody to death, but the vile criminals that would be executed that afternoon deserved nothing but death. As if worshipping a vile and insane deity like Wastri was not enough, they were also found spying upon the new fortresses being build along the borders with the Vast Swamp and a couple of them were responsible for the death of a dwarf foreman and a group of halfling workers in what at first looked like an accident.

Most of the condemned were strangers to him, but one had worked on his castle as a stable hand. He should discuss hiring policies with his wife, because he knew he was not loved by the cult of Wastri and that man might have come in a perfect place to harm him directly or through his family. The thoughts of harm coming to his wife, unborn child or daughter made him shiver with anger.

Abruptly he closed the window, turned around and walked towards his wardrobe. Steeling himself for the grim affairs of that day. It would not be the first time he would observe such grim things and it would not be the last.