My Lord, My Sire,
I have met, at last, with the leader of the bandits, "Carlsson". I had hoped to infiltrate their ranks, and buy their eyes and ears and swords for your own use, my liege. Yet, even as I approached him, another man appeared, clad all in white plating. Upon his chest plate there was painted a yellow rose...or perhaps an Elanor flower? Why one would bear so ugly a device is beyond my feeble comprehension, O' great Lugburz, but it made me aware as to his allegiance.
I sneered even as he approached, that child of ideas fantastical and false. He called aloud his name in the common tongue, and it was "Damric". I could feel about him the influence of the cruel first born, and it made my skin crawl, my blood boil! He struck out at Carlsson, and the two brawled, neither able to prevail over the others for their weakness. Another bandit thought to end such quarreling, and failed, only drawing more attention to the fighting pair. Then, two others interfered, and a third after.
Finally, Carlsson was pressed to flee, and I was left to fend off our assailants. Breaking free of their hold, I gave chase, and found this Damric near the gate. He turned, surprised for my materialization. He struck me, and bound my hands (I allowed him to, of course.), announcing me his prisoner. He dragged me to some brightly lit room, filled with others like him, and it seared my vision, so cruel were my captors!
I looked into one of these "Knights", and I saw him to be troubled. I spoke riddles for him, and threats flew fast from my tongue. Soon, I had control over him, and the man was pushed to express his fear and rage. He struck me, once, twice, thrice! Then, his companion pinned my hand with a dagger.
I laughed for such pain, and this only antagonized them. Many beatings followed, and many objects pierced my skin. I told them of your mercy, my master, and they only showed me the vast difference betwixt one so great as you, and those such as them. One of my rhymes struck their fancy, or perhaps their nerves (?), and so all but one abandoned me, no more to torment me. I stood, and cast off my bindings, and threw this last one away.
Thus I escaped, and still they seek me. I shall continue my report, in length, whenever I may. Until such a time, I cast down the pen from my humble hand, and grieve that you must look upon such scribbled writings. I shall continue to serve you in these lands.
-Zurtriin.
