Every adventuring party leaves a trail of broken tavern stools, cursed heirlooms, and NPCs who wish they’d never opened the door. These letters are the receipts: bitter, petty, and painfully specific. Read them as the chorus of regret from the people you swore you were “helping.”
From: Mayor Edrin, Lowgate Borough re: On the Matter of Your “Heroics”
You barricaded the town against a “ghost” that turned out to be my ledger clerk sleeping off a tavern debt. Repairs cost coin; my patience cost less until you toppled the north wall for theatrical effect. Please stop leaving me invoices with dramatic flourishes
From: Sister Halene, Temple of Liros re: An Unsolicited Confession
You prayed loudly in my sanctuary, then argued theology with a minor god and broke three stained-glass angels. The congregation will remember the sermon and the shards. Next time, try humility or at least a broom.
From: Grom of the Riverwatch re: About Your “Scout”
You sent your halfling to scout the bridge and then, when they alerted the patrol, blamed me for the ensuing sword fight. I buried three men and patched the rope that night while you wrote your ballad. Keep your scouts; take your debts.
From: Miri, Innkeeper at The Soggy Mug re: Regarding Your “Extended Stay”
You treated my room like a war trophy and paid in song verses and promises. I fed your whole group for three days and heard only one apology and a lute solo that shredded a wedding. My ledger prefers coin, but my heart now prefers eviction notices.
From: Captain Verus, City Watch re: A Formal Complaint
You looted the merchant’s cart “for narrative reasons,” then shouted at my watch when we tried to sort restitution. I don’t arrest for flair, or for “clout”, whatever that is. I arrest for paperwork, and your name is now three filings deep. Consider this your friendly introduction to court proceedings.
From: Old Katrin, Gravekeeper re: A Short Letter and a Longer Sigh
You dug up my favourite plot “to check for clues” and left perfumes, candle wax, and a curse in its place. The dead do not need your curiosity; I do not need your excuses. Next time, leave the bones and take your mysteries elsewhere.
From: Yal the Alchemist re: On Broken Promises and Broken Vials
You “borrowed” a reagent and returned a story. I cannot distil drama into alembics. My prices doubled; my patience evaporated. Pay up or never ask me to mix theatrical tears into elixirs again.
From: Lorna, the Mayor’s Secretary re: For The Record
You declared yourself a diplomat and renegotiated our tax code between rounds of dice. We are now poorer, more confused, and have seven new festivals scheduled. You are welcome to attend one as penance.
No Rerolls 