Cecil's Letters Home

Cecil Ul'muré, paladin of Mandador, spent much of his youth adventuring in the Barony of Dantareth, at first in search of his long lost brother Dine, and then on several successive mishaps and quests combating political and fiendish adversaries.

First Letter

Date: Unknown

Dearest Mother,

I pray to Mandador that this letter finds you well and still in His good graces and care. My journey to the lands of Pompiers has taken me places I had never dreamed of, and I have met many great persons in my travels. I have but a little time, so I will be brief. It brings me great sorrow and turns my stomach to report to you, dear mother, that Dine, your cherished son, has perished here in these far away lands. What little time I have had to investigate his death has given me pause in my quest.

These lands are strange—not at all like Dwarden. I understand that Dine rose to the rank of Baron here in Dantareth before he met his end, though what caused his fall I cannot yet say. Mother, this is a land truly in peril. I left you as a young man: proud, strong and just learning that life was not as simple as it appeared from within the walls of the abbey and our home in Dwarden. The lands of Dantareth have shown me just how wrong I was about this world.

When father died you consoled me by telling me that his deeds and his service to Mandador would never be forgotten by those whose lives he touched, and that his legacy would live on in the tales of his brothers and sisters among the faithful. But here, the people are not at all like those of Dwarden. When The Lich still lived, all of Dwarden knew her enemy. We could devise martial strategies to vanquish the hosts of undeath, and we took solace in one another’s faith; the enemy had a face that we recognized. But the people here, the enemy wears the face of a man—and it is a smiling face that promises aid, comfort and understanding. The enemy wears the seal of the Queen, the robes of a Mandadorian priest, the warm visage of a young man, eager to find his way in the world. Evil has no lair in Dantareth, it is everywhere.

The more I apprehend of the people of this land, the more I am suspicious that Dine did not die at the hands of what he perceived to be an enemy, but perhaps someone who he believed to be his friend. The corruption and deception run deeply in this place. Just when I believe I have found my footing, I discover my own naiveté. Trust is perhaps the most scarce and precious resource in these lands. The people here lose hope and find their faith in Mandador wanting.

For my part, I have been stationed with a garrison of soldiers at a Fort I shall not name in Zlinn. Last week, my commanding officer attempted to murder me. The supply officer is a criminal who wears the rank of a military man. The Royal Magistrate in charge assists in the running of an illegal smuggling racket that bleeds much needed supplies away from the Royal Army.

I am just one man. One man.

I know what you would say to me, dear Mother. Look to Mandador and my brother’s example for guidance. My eyes fill with tears to think that Dine is gone and will never be able to offer us his wisdom. I find myself wishing that he were here and I were with Mandador instead. I wasn’t cut out to fight the undead with the Brothers. I thought that this was my place—to find Dine and follow him to the next stage of my life like I always have. Like you always told me to. Mandador, apparently, did not want that for me.

If He so wills it, this letter will find itself in your hands, that sweet scent of cinnamon from our home in Dwarden lingering in the air as it always does while you read these words. I only hope that there is enough good will left here to guide this letter home. I will discover what happened to your eldest son, mother. Of that have no doubt. But I believe I have found my purpose in this forsaken place. Mandador has revealed himself to me at last. There is no doubt in my heart or my mind that I was sent to this place for a purpose. What that may be, time will tell. I will write again soon, mother.

Your Loving Son,

Cecil Ul’muré