The words on the document that this man is studying reads as follows:
Dear Skol,
If you're reading this letter it means that you followed the instructions that were attached to the bottle of potion that was delivered alongside it, and have since found your ambidexterity and depth perception restored.
Everyone here has been asking if I've heard from you since you signed up with that wild woman. Whether or not you've bothered to respond to our letters, I know not, but I like to believe that you have & that they have either been lost in transit or you have simply not had the time to find a reliable courier to pass them onto.
Ever since the fog's started rolling in, business here has dropped considerably. Herman's got more than enough spoils to keep us afloat, but you know how his people feel about sharing the wealth. Mercea has concocted a hair-brain scheme with Teresa & Sonya to export the latter's coconut-flavored grog to the other Outposts. I applaud their enthusiasm, but can't help but feel that their endeavor will be met with frustration and failure. Thomas, Wyatt & Cameron have all been working hard to clear out the upper level of the tavern so that Bilge Rats like Duke won't feel the need to crowd around the bar in order to catch the attentions of visitors. Personally, I am greatly in favor of Wyatt's idea to draw people in through the introduction of what she's taken to calling "contests of chance." It would be a nice way for rival crews to solve their differences without resorting to gratuitous amounts of violence.
Myself, I am fine. The whispering of my friends continues unabated. Warsmith may be gone, but I can't help but feel that there's a greater threat out there somewhere, waiting to set itself upon us whence we least expect it. More than once now I've reminded myself of the tales you used to tell us of Captain Martinez, and wonder if maybe it's him that is the cause of this latest disturbance. I pray that is not the case, and that I am merely being paranoid. The Skeletons are bad enough, but we know how to deal with them. Actual Ghosts, on the other hand...
But I am nearly out of time, parchment, and ink, so I will cease things here.
Yours sincerely,
Madame OctaviaP.S. Happy Holidays!
