Letter #4: The Triumvirate and Adrik Fogdar

Dear Maria,

My sincerest apologies in regards to not only writing these experiences in my cypher – for once I cease these extra-legal missions will I halt in the use of my cypher – but also for the length of these for, truly, this much did happen in but one evening, although it feels like weeks.

My latest entry in this queer adventure ended with the unscrupulous alliance of Mister Drazael, Lord Hassildril, and Master Milmor Glass, accompanied by each of their bodyguards: Jagar, the scarred dwarf; Laertes, the incessantly knife flipping elf; and Imamanthe, a Daughter of Twilight – respectively. I myself had escorted Lord Hassildril to Milford Brixton’s secretive barge; Leith, the elven warlock, had taken Master Glass; and Mister Drazael had the pleasure of being guided expeditiously through the city by none-other than Brixton himself.

So, all met, the plotter and planners of this most devious and mysterious heist gathered in the hold of Mister Brixton’s barge whilst the rest of use, escorted and protectors, watched from the shore, as the barge drifted down the river – hauled by a loyal and dependable mule under the possession of Brixton – and we stood watch.

I was a tad on the unhelpful side, what with not being accustomed to walking through such dark shades of sky and air at so late – or early – an hour. For, as we walked from the Druub to Fjardahl – a small town built without the city, shady figures in robes were following us round and about. What did not help was bickering between the patron’s guards which Mister Leith tried to quash but without the sufficient confidence was left to Brixton and another one of the bickering guard