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Dear Yatrela,

So how's my favorite sister doing? Still trying to impress that overblown braggart who dares to call himself king? I know you say you're happy and that you love the horker, but I don't know what you see in him. Kurog couldn't polish the shield of our chief, and I know that you think so too. Or, at least, you used to think so.

Anyway, I'm still guarding the Fharun prison. It's amazing how such a simple idea has become a profit center for the clan. Once it became obvious that the Breton engineer the chief hired had made such a massive facility, it was a simple enough matter to offer the prison's services to all of the surrounding clans. Any clan that wants to incarcerate an undesirable instead of exiling them or just killing them outright can rent space in the Fharun prison. I bet your so-called king never had an idea half as good as that!

We've got all kinds down here. I'm watching over murderers and brigands, cutthroats and assassins. They're actually an interesting mix of lunatics and ruffians. There's even a very quiet and polite Orc woman who never gives us any trouble. She scares me the most. I make sure to never turn my back on that one!

I hear some kind of ruckus in the stronghold above. I better go and see what's going on. Oh, and Yatrela, I still have that old stuffed ice bear that you used to love to play with. Want me to send it to you? Ha! Probably ruin your reputation as tough and dangerous. Might even ruin your chances to become one of that horker's shield-wives. Hmm. Come to think of it, that's a good idea. I'll send it along with the next caravan to Orsinium.

Your brother,
Rorgoth

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