The following letter arrives in the post in Grem Slide, addressed to Reginald Ainsworth. The paper is curled tightly and stamped with the sigil of a woman with long braided hair circling around forming the border of the crest.'Upon opening, the thin curly handwriting is unfamiliar, and in some places, the ink blotches and runs were droplets of water fell onto it during writing...  

Dear Swordmaster Ainsworth,

It has been many a year since I have heard word of you. I am glad once again to find correspondence from you addressed to me.I was the Swordmaster who, 15 years ago, was directed by Grandmaster Flickgravel to investigate the undead disturbance at Farwall. 

It was a sad event in my history. Both of my apprentices were lost attempting to escape the cursed halls of that once proud manor. The Lady of Farwall, cursed by some foul magic, the source of which I know not, still roams the grounds. As soon as we were on the grounds, we could hear her terrible cry, and sense that she was hunting us.

I warn you of this! Take with you the appropriate tools of hunting the undead. Silvered weapons, symbols of divine holiness, salves and herbs to cure and mend the rotting wounds inflicted by the cursed unliving will all be unnecessary. I regret every night as I lie down to bed not preparing myself appropriately. There is a particular might about the place. I never before have encounter undead so resilient and hungered. The cries of the ghouls we cut down called out to the others amongst the grounds, and before we knew it, we were overrun. 

I will, hopefully for your benefit, detail the route we took to infiltrate the manor. 

We approached from the south, and entered the manor by the front entrance. Here we fought off ghostly dogs, they would arise again each time we cut them down. Cut off from retreat, we delved further into the halls, going into the apartment wings. I think they chased us this way knowingly, herding us, like lambs to slaughter. The apartments were populated by ghouls and phantoms. My apprentice Barthol fell here, devoured by the hungry jaws of undead fiends. Then Herrald and I turned the corner past the gallery, and the door to the courtyard stood open wide. I thought we could escape this way, and led Herrald right into the open arms of the Banshee Leanor. She stared deep into my eyes for what seemed like minutes, came at us with a sky ripping scream, and Herrald was slain.  

I don't rightly know how I escaped, but I have never felt more shame and guilt about anything in my life. I spent a year recovering in Karthoogh. After that I tendered my resignation with the Academy. I hope that by sharing this with you, I have provided you with some meaningful advice. I hope that you can lay that poor woman to rest, and that when her banshee yell is finally silenced, so too will the nightmares I sweat through each night, and the terrible visions I see out of the corners of my eyes every waking moment. 

With much love and best regards,

Mister Otilannan Milner

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