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!