An envelope crafted from sterile parchment and even plainer white paper within shows obvious and careless signs of having been tampered with. The seal of a lavender sprig is visibly destroyed, clearly having been opened and resealed with a hot, flat instrument that robbed the letter of any poetry. "Alice, The initial introduction to the Sanatorium has been. . . Bleak, to say the least. The journey over, I held out hope that Leonard might yet come. Every step, I could fee

A small sprig of lavender lay pressed into the wax seal on the letter. The ink of some of the words has been smeared and blotted dry after being dampened with droplets. "Leonard, My Love, I have miss you terribly. Last we spoke, you mentioned that you had found work on one of those ships that can ride the wind like waves. I had every intention of being patient and minding myself until your return, but terrible news have befallen me..."

A letter made of parchment and a hushed touch of purple ink is carefully tucked in an envelope. Within the envelope is a single dried daffodil, a gift to its intended. "Alice, I cannot fathom it. Father has sent for a carriage to be here by evening. He has told the servants to begin collecting some of my gowns, toiletries, and a few spools of thread so I might continue my needlework. What good will needlework do me from within the asylum?..."

A letter written in a beautiful script and perfumed with the scent of basil and lavender from the few botanicals left tucked within the envelope.

This letter was pinned to the square of New Ashen by unseen hands. It is worn, tattered, but boldly displayed until a guard rips it down and tosses it to the side. "Mother, Dearest Mother, If this letter reaches you... Then it probably means I never made it home despite my best efforts."

On the edge of town, cast aside by the winds until it met the nook of a tree lays a single page. The script is written with haste. "Mother, I have uncovered what the captain is doing. "

Tucked beneath a rock on the edges of New Ashen, near the abandoned cathedral a tattered, nearly burnt letter sits in an empty pew. "Mother, I wish I had never joined the men of the Outlook. "

A crumbled up letter, smudged at the edges with soot lay discarded outside of the guard barracks within New Ashen. "Mother, Routines and events around the Outlook are... Different now. Orders only come late at night or the early hours before dawn now. Hushed directions whispered between the captain and the quartermaster that seem to distance himself from myself and my comrades when we get brief respite around the fire..."

"Mother, Something happened tonight. Something that is sitting poorly with me as the hours wind on..."

They posted me to the northern watchroad just outside of the Outlook. It is not grand work, but at least it’s honest. Better than...

Tonight we will journey to Arcvelt, the long-time home of Lithoterria’s most imaginative and innovative people, the Humans.

Lycanthropes, or werewolves as they are often referred to, are horrendous creatures with the power to fool you! They could be your friend, your neighbor, or even little Timmy down the road!

These unholy beings showcase a variety of traits that highlight the immortal scourge! Some believe that there is no protection from these beings of the night. Nexicorp will further discredit these foolish thinkers, and bring the truth straight to you, the consumer!

"Lost: Three crates of dyes, bound for the Arcveltian capital of New Ashen. Each box is painted with the mark of a blue outstretched...

A small passage of parchment was found on the streets of New Ashen attached to the leg of a wood phoenix, a bird typically found in the...

The page was filed in haste, with the ink of the penmanship uneven. “Three days past, I led the caravan along the southern bend toward...

Word drifts across the planks like smoke, heavy enough to choke. A mercenary fleet from New Ashen, some say, tired of Delair’s plundering reach. Others swear it is no kingdom’s banner, but something darker, older, a foe that no man nor ship can truly stand against. In truth, I cannot yet discern which tale is the better lie.

One day I can only hope that my pen name "The Ironwood Mouse" can be known far and wide as he who documented and researched the unique phenomena that is the island of Delair, until then I will keep up my watch and be vigilant as pirates are not kind to my kind of inquisitive nature.

Day 1 The following accounts are the writings of a madman. Well… I don’t know if I’m mad, but I am a hunter, and I swear I saw the most...

"It all started when I was born...- No wait, maybe it was when I was five. It was just me and me sweet Ma y’see. She worked really hard...