Dear Mark Stoneholme (Militiaman),
I have written this report for the attention of your eyes and the rest of militia command to highlight to you the threat that Nu'jelm faces in light of recent events.
I have heard rumours of the town guard abandoning their post and fleeing, leaving citizens to fend for themselves, save the few brave adventurers that have made camp on the sandy island to defend its citizens instead. I have poured over old manuscripts, letters, note, and overheard whispers in dark tavern corners throughout Britannia.
I have heard much of orcs, a dark council of witches, and an infamous scaled beast known as 'Biate'.
As I stood about Britain's docks, as I often do, breathing in the fresh sea air and watching the locals fish for their supper, I flicked through the empty pages of my torn and frayed book of coordinates... It had been a while since I had taken her out to sea. My little frigate; HMS Discovery. She has served me well throughout my many years as an adventurer, but for some time now had been docked in the bay.
Then it dawned on me, that I must investigate Nu'jelm's problem for myself, and report back to the militia in the wake of the town guards fleeing.
Taking hold of my trusty staff, I spoke briefly to the harbourmaster, and informed him of my intensions. Soon enough I was prepared and ready to go. On the deck of my vessel, with a sextant, a book of co-ordinates, a map of the ocean and a pocketful of bandages. I was prepared.
As I sailed out of the harbour, I stood at the bow and looked out to the horizon; all I could see was ocean for miles and miles, not a landmass in sight other than the bustling city of Britain fading into the background. My days at sea saw me navigate through breeding grounds of sea serpents, and dolphins. When the waves were calm and nothing to threaten me loomed nearby, I took a moment to befriend a dolphin, before continuing my voyage and eventually disembarking at Nu'jelm.
As I stepped off Discovery, the town lay before me; corpses lined the streets and I saw with my own eyes brave warriors pouring out of buildings and fighting an undead menace as nearby town guardsmen cowered for safety. As one such brave warrior finished caving in a zombie's head with his maul, I called him over to learn what I could of the situation before venturing into the field myself.
The adventurers name was Adam, adorned from head to foot in platemail armour, brandishing a kite shield and maul; he spoke to me of the rumours I had heard weeks before - That orcs had unleashed something, causing a council of witches to surface and summon forth a beast of immense power. Having wished the adventurer well in his expedition, I began my own.
As I stalked the shadows of the streets, I dodged and weaved through gatherings of powerful undead minions. Their number was terrifying, and I had to move both quickly and quietly to avoid being discovered. As my sneaking took me North, I happened upon a courtyard and bore witness to two lone pike men fending off a nearby guard tower from the undead.
I watched for a few moments as the pike men fought back-to-back and brought down an onslaught of skeletal beasts. It was then that the sun's reflection from something gleamed in my eye, and on looking for the source I spied three wooden chests with golden fixtures, a sign hanging above each, each reading:
It would seem that the local guardsmen are in dire need of funds to keep themselves on the field. As I ventured into the watchtower the pike men were zealously defending, I could see out across the sands; they teemed with undead. I ventured out myself, running for cover between the shade of trees.
Upon breaking into a boarded up hut, I lurked in a corner and jotted down from memory the foul beasts that I had seen thus far:
I saw a host of skeletons, and mindless beasts. Zombies that staggered and groaned through the street, attempting to gnaw on the bones of their boned brethren, and feasting on the flesh of the rotting corpses that littered the streets. Skeletons, from simple axe men to shieldsmen, and even witches stained with the blood of their victims in varying hues, as though it were ritual to cover itself more, the more blood it had spilt. There were also shadowed spectres that floated through the air, seemingly casting witchcraft from a void.
I also saw the witches myself; they were still human though... The basic instinct of greed was within them as much as it is within a common thief. As the corpses of their summoned minions fell down in the streets, these witches dashed like packs of hungry wolves, rummaging for whatever scraps of coinage their minions had dropped upon their death.
I laid eyes upon the leader of most undead forces, a mighty lich - It wandered within circles of the beasts, as though protected, commanding them with its numerous cackles and gasps.
But perhaps the most frightening thing of all that my eyes gazed upon:
A lizard on appearance, but its skin told me different. I have seen nothing of this kind in my lifetime of expedition and exploration - This must be the beast I had heard rumours of, 'Biate'. However, to my surprise as I made my way back to the docks through the winding streets, I saw more of these beasts. Perhaps it is not that 'Biate' is a single entity, but an entire new species through which the witches seek to overrun Nu'jelm?
As I studied the beast from the shadows, I felt a boney finger slide down my back. I looked over my shoulder to witness a skeleton cackle loudly into my ear. In this instant I slipped to the floor. I tried to climb back to my feet and sprint, and as I did so the skeleton grabbed my kilt attempting to hold me back. I managed to break free however, leaving the skeleton ambling after me waving a crude axe in one hand, and the tattered remains of my kilt in the other.
As I sprinted through the streets, my cover now blown, the undead were encircling me wherever I went. Every corner I turned they waited, and as I turned back on myself the gap closed and tightened further... How, I do not know, but my survival instincts kicked in and I managed to charge my way through an assembly of skeletons, out into the main high street where warriors continued to fight the good fight.
As I approached the docks, my fingers fumbled clumsily as I unravelled the rope from the mooring point. As I did so I glanced over my shoulder, the undead were closing in once again. I threw the rope onto the deck of my boat and leapt after it, nearly knocking myself out as the mast broke my forward motion. As mindless zombies lurched over the edge of the dock and splashed into the ocean, I unfurled the sails and headed East for the shoreline of Moonglow to begin my report of what I had witnessed.
This situation is dire, and though I, nor any other citizen can expect miracles from the work you and your men already do, I can only hope that in writing this report to you, the militia will take up arms and do what they can to help the citizens of Nu'jelm reclaim their home.