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LETTERS FROM GARENBRIG

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nunlover

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Kalenz ni'leya's smile expanded as the heavens above as his focus intensified, peering into the horizons awaiting the enemy.

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"Another for the cause!"

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"Seems even the Tar's men chafe under him. There's hope yet to see my home free." Observed potentially misguided Petran freedom fighter Alaric von Theonus

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Ser Heledd Glennmaer scratched her scarred chin at the missive, "This heraldry is from eighty years ago, and his name is spelt as L-L-Y-W!"

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Bron scratches his head as he reads the missive. "....his name is niet that hard to spell.."

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35 minutes ago, nunlover said:

His Lordship, Llwy Glennmaer


“Vhis is nicht mein ******* son? Who the **** is Llwy? His other twin?” The Princess of Garenbrig barked with a smirk and a chortle. Hearty laughter filled the stone walls of Formindon as she tossed the letter into the fire.

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Arthur Marsyr looked over the misspelled name, the antiquated heraldry that didn't even look like anything he had seen in his 60 years of life and exploded into fits of laughter, cackling as tears rolled down his cheeks. 
"******* idiots!" he said between gasping fits of snickering. 

Edited by The Vulgate Cycle
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The High Chancellor blinked down at the missive, concern prickling first–had her grand-nephew been taken? Yet, the more she read, the less it resembled him at all. It felt like another's hand entirely, his name slapped on as an afterthought–

And then her eyes caught the telltale error. Llyw Glennmaer misspelled as Llwy. She blinked once more. 

"Who the hell is Llwy? How do you even pronounce that? Also, who made this heraldry? I have never seen it before." She muttered, before tossing the letter aside with complete dismissal. 

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In the Skies, the grandmother of Llyw was baffled. She may have been run over by a few horses in her life, and she might’ve been dead, but atleast she could spell a four letter word correctly…

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Bloodied and beaten, the Glennmaer studied the missive, a low, bitter laugh escaping his lips.

He cannot even put my correct name on the page,” he muttered dryly. “And yet it took five men to bring me down.”

Edited by VoidDimensions
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Ser Leif Whitewood scans over the missive, grinning before bursting into laughter. "They're getting very desperate, it seems."

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