*The following note of dark red ink on crisping papyrus fades as your eyes follow the words*
Loral Ciriclight, the Hand of Tunare,
Your murder of Warlord Bormar has sent the trolls into a frenzy. They continue to arm themselves and spread word of your attack from their town crier. They cry for a new leader to retake Grobb.
However, your attempt to create a wedge between the trolls and the dark elves has partially succeeded. The trolls quickly blame your assassination on the weak guards of Neriak. A dark elf agent propositioned me to murder the trolls of Gunthak to further enrage the troll legions. It will only be a matter of time before the trolls learn of this treachery.
The weakness of Neriak's internal guard became clear when Tier'Dal troops marched on Freeport from the west. Adventurers banded together in the tunnels of the East Commonlands led by a powerful general named Eromreven of Shar Val. The adventurers fought bravely but they ended broken on the rocks of the Spine of the World.
I found the body of a decapitated Tier'Dal scout, one torn apart by Eromreven's warder and a warrior named Rebelwolf. On him I discovered a potion of illusions. When I took a sip I was horrified to see my beautiful visage transformed to look like you, a high elf.
From within Neriak itself, the High Necromancer, Xon Quexill seeks the bodies of Frogloks, both live and undead. He is unclear of his motivations but one can easily assume his intentions and research. Even my own composure was shaken when I saw the flayed corpse of a young Froglok straining against leather bonds with death in its faded milky eyes.
All throughout the kingdoms of Norrath the criers call of war. So eager are the nations to press their propaganda that they now give the news away for free. They speak of a battle between high elves and the natives of Guktan over a ritual performed within the swamps of Innothule. They speak of a horror torn from the depths of the fetid ground, a huge horned creature with lidless eyes and enveloped in a cloud of green noxious gas.
It appears, under the illusions of their strange potions and the direction of Xon Quexill, the dark elves attempt to create a rift between the high elves and the guktans as you have done between the dark elves and the trolls. It will take much to restore alliances once word of this unholy beast reaches the frogloks.
You should be pleased to know that the council of Felwithe has heard your call. Troops of Felwithe mobilize in the forest of Greater Faydark with sun shining off of silver armor and steel weapons. Let us all hope that the silver shine does not soon turn red.
I expect thrice my normal payment delivered to my account by noon tomorrow.
Xarrak, Eye of the Shadow - Master of Spies