“… and there is barely a faithful soul to be found in these lands where uncaring lords reign while barely giving lip service to the one true church.”
Osric rose from his desk to take a short break, stretching and walking around to regain his focus and get his blood flowing. The Maker did not create him to read and write all day; that much was clear to him. Later in the day, Osric hoped to visit the collapsed study with Urien, but now he needed to return to the letter, even if he would rather do some exercises to get the frustration of the whole situation better under control.
Back at the desk, Osric continued to write about his travels: the strange well to which he was teleported, the undead-infested ruins where he met some of his current companions, and the horrible tree under the earth. He made a note to himself that he would return one day once strong enough to cleanse that place… He wrote also of the lord of Froxhall who cared more about his own research then his people and of Colbert the dutiful teacher of Froxhall’s study who struggles to keep the faith alive in a forsaken village on the edge of civilization.
He recorded Colbert’s stories about heathens and disgusting frog cults in the neighboring villages, adding his own observations from his visit to Taygle’s End: “…there we found to our surpise that the study wasn’t abandoned at all! Someone lived there, claiming to be a warden of the Maker. If he was speaking the truth was hard to say: he certainly wasn’t all too hospitable, but the same could be said about the rest of the town. Certain is only that this would not be my last visit there. If he turns out to be some heretic — or even a cultist in disguise — I will make sure that he gets his well-deserved punishment, protection from the local ruler or not.”
Looking at the parchment, Osric noted that his writing certainly did not rival that of a monastic scribe, but reflected that it was high time for a visit to the damaged study. So, he rose and fetched Urien, his new understudy who was making remarkable progress in studying the teachings of the Maker. Osric was certain he was no material for a warden — he predicted that a single, well-executed punch in the stomach would probably down him for a day or two — but he thought the young man would make a fine canon one day soon.