Olesya's Dispatches - To Ex-boyfriend Rutger Leichtenberg In Bretonnia

The Ubersreik Five may not know Olesya Pimenova as a conversationalist, but the caustic Kislevite is secretly a prolific writer of letters. Amongst her grimoires and arcane paraphernalia are stowed reams of gossip and covert intelligence from across the Old World. To what purpose this correspondence? Nobody knows. Suffice to say, Olesya's fingers are in many pies.

Rutger,

Despite my previous complaint, you send abroad something viler still to deliver your letter.

Saltzpyre had only just stopped mithering about the mess your last cadaver made of his relics, and something resembling peace and quiet had returned to the keep, when your most recent valet arrived and leaks ichor onto the cat.

Aside from being the only living creature with some affinity for the tiresome man, the feline has inveigled itself rather further into the hearts of the Ubersreik Five than some of them would care to admit. Suffice to say, Kerillian made mincemeat of your messenger. Quite literally, although the resultant thrall-shreds were so rancid even the dwarf couldn’t bring himself to eat them. I’ve never heard such choice language from our Wood Elf - it appears her chosen deities are either forgiving in that regard, or share her feelings about cats.

The feline was fine, after Saltzpyre and Sienna saw fit to bathe it. The sight of the Bright Wizard and the Warrior Priest up to their elbows in suds, attempting to mop the creature clean was a picture I shan’t forget. Nor Saltzpyre coddling the creature by the fire to dry it afterwards.

Perhaps resulting from the embarrassment of this display of affection, Saltzpyre has now redoubled his tirades against what he describes as the ‘Bretonnian heresies.’ Sienna has been uncharacteristically supportive following their uneasy cat-washing truce and the situation has escalated to discussion of a crusade to Bretonnia! This would usually be laughable, but a strange air fills the keep, and I would be unsurprised if the Ubersreik Five are all in a sufficiently idiotic mood to actually consider it.

Saltzpyre is riled by the situation there (again, your fault) and the apparently catastrophic levels of heresy and depravity that are now endemic. Had he seen us in our glory days, Rutger, I doubt the poor flower would have lasted long. Anyhow, you should know that he is deadly serious - a character failing which has worsened since his latest incarnation as a Warrior Priest - and has been polishing up his armour. Or at least, what passes for armour in these lands. It is entirely ostentatious and impractical, littered with devotions to his god. Most crass. A Kislevite carries her devotions in her soul! Even more laughable, there is no helmet and it is quite impractical on horseback.

I doubt he would last for five minutes against your hordes, but Rutger - mark my words. If you are to harm a hair on Saltzpyre’s head (not that he currently has any but that’s beside the point) I will end you. He may be a stupid little kurcha, but he’s one to which I’ve become accustomed. And you know how I dislike people interfering with my things.

Your correspondence has caused me more trouble than good, so unless you can tell me something useful, or at the very least, entertaining, I will have Sienna obliterate your next sorry dispatch.

Yours under sufferance,

Olesya