To: M. William Leyman - Postmarked December 31st

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To: M. William Leyman - Postmarked December 31st

Post by AceFace » Sat Jan 11, 2020 12:47 pm

To: M. William Leyman
From: M. Finnegan Leyman



The kidney stones have passed with arduous struggle. As you know, I am a medical professional, so I will explain the steps which were undertaken to remove them. First, the urethra was completely unrelated to this letter, and Aisling has surely ceased her attempts to be a busybody and passed the page on to you. If not: hello, Ash. Pass on the damned letter.

To be brief: Quarry Creek is as you suspected. The town -- if it can truly be classified as a town -- is a veritable menagerie of the supernatural. From what I can tell, the Gauntlet is exceedingly fragile here. Spirits, wraiths, and other such creatures traverse it as though it were no more than a bramble-laden path. I admit, I envy their ease of passage. There is little I would not give to press my palm against the warbling of the Umbra and feel the wall melt beneath my fingertips. It has always sounded more like home than any four walls you have ever tossed me into.

That said, I have found a place to stay. I know this means naught to you sans the promise of my continued espying, but you are forced to read the contents of this letter lest you miss even the slightest morsel of information to jot down in your notes about the world at large. I know all too well how sure you are that anything beyond the realm of ‘mortal’ can and will bear its fangs or claws against the throats of anything with running blood, and you know mine own self just as well to suspect my constant reminder that mankind is often the far crueler player in this comedic tragedy you have written for yourself.

Leave the weaving of tales to the authors, Father. Mother has always been the better storyteller. Aisling may have followed in your deep and wide footsteps, but I would have followed in Mum’s had you given me the opportunity. Perhaps you have and I am too set in my loathing that I cannot see it yet. Perhaps I will be killed by a denizen of this community in a revenge set against a Mage they will never know, a payment for spying. I wonder whose punishment would be worse: Quarry Creek’s, or the Soviets.

I have wasted yet more of your time. My apologies.

From what I have seen, Quarry Creek is not the most dangerous bed of denizens in this cutthroat country. There is a place called New Haven -- a comforting name, no? It is said that there are ‘wizards’ there, which some have taken to mean Mages, and others sorcerers. I am more inclined to believe the latter. Sorcerers do not bear the kind of power New Haven does. Not from what I have seen in a matter of a week or so. True, there are spirits here. Sorcerers. Shifters and manners of things which I cannot rightly explain for they turn my stomach so to think back on what I saw beyond a veil of self protection. Russian royalty. Prostitutes which carry guns in the open. That said, the people here are at least so bold to speak ill of me where they know I will hear, rather than feeble and pointless attempts to hide their scorn.

There are good people here. The woman I will be staying with reminds me of Mum. The two of them would get along splendidly, I’m sure. She is an author. A doctor. She saved my life the night I arrived. She is friends with a Soviet. The sheriff threatened me underhand, and the deputy bid me warm welcome in the most suspicious fashion I have ever beheld. I have come to the headmarm of a brothel over matters of tea. I have fallen under the wing of a soul who sees fit to trust a stranger for no reason further than their faith, and grants me sight into the world I have always loved with naught more than an extension of my arm. They have come so far as to hold the door open that I may have a seat at the table, and I cannot say I have ever been more grateful to a stranger in my life.

Whatever it is that you seek in Quarry Creek, in California, in America, it likely is not here. That said, you have taught me the value of being thorough. I shall continue to press into the affairs of these people, and I shall continue to remind you of the sheer inconsiderate folly this endeavour stands for.

Finnegan Leyman.

P.S.: Tell Mum and Aisling to expect letters from me, soon.

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Re: To: M. William Leyman - Postmarked December 31st

Post by Patricia » Sat Jan 18, 2020 12:22 pm


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