[A sealed letter for Shane Gallows]

[cmenden]

Dear Shane Gallows,

While I have opinions about the quality of your paper's journalism, I didn't write to discuss that at the moment.

Instead, I am baffled by the, and I use this term loosely, "horoscope" at the top right of the pages. Are you and your reporters just writing in a random god, number, and incarnum?

Normally, I don't bother reaching out to every two-bit charlatan selling pleasant lies in alleyways for scorch money, but since we share a book club, I thought it the polite thing to do in this case.

With all those divination licenses you are selling, surely you can find someone actually gifted in the skill to provide you with accurate horoscopes.

Regards,
Estellise Azimi

[cmenden]

Dear Shane Gallows,

As per our agreement, I have written the first draft of my article for your paper. I imagine you will find your job as Editor to be lacking in arduousness as there is little that I can imagine needs to be changed.

When one descends too far beneath the labyrinthine, sandy streets of Ephia's Well, they will uncover unspeakable horrors and transgressions that defy all logical explanation. And yet, despite the many dire warnings, there are still those who recklessly venture into the depths of the city with a reckless abandon that can only be described as madness.

With a heavy heart, I must impart that the malevolent Gutter-Mother and her companion yet skulk within the shadowy recesses, lurking with ill intent for the unsuspecting and the unwary. Those who dare to delve into the stygian gloom unaccompanied shall find no respite from the ceaseless onslaught of this depraved pair.

The halberd-bearing bandit bellows with a wrath that could rend the very earth and stone asunder, whilst her unfathomable associate strikes with a wile that transcends all understanding. It is beyond doubt that they have already claimed many hapless victims, and the next could very well be you.

If that were not enough, an additional malefactor has emerged from the bowels of the Dry Gutters. Warthog Mudgut, chieftain of the most recent band of vagrant miscreants, has seized control of these squalid tunnels. His reign of terror is all-encompassing, and none are exempt from his malevolent ire.

Take heed, denizens of Ephia's Well. These are exceedingly troubled times. Dinars are scarce, refugees are numerous, and the iniquities that lurk beneath the surface are greater than ever before. If you value your life, do not ignore this warning, and steer clear of the labyrinthine tunnels that lie beneath our Shaded and serene home.

Regards,
Estellise Azimi