Monthly Extra: A letter from Valos, the Badlands city.

A letter addressed to one Medrin Isar, Mage of Expert Rank of the City of Arcanum.

Dear Meri,

I regret to inform you that the City of Valos is everything we'd hoped and feared it would be. The journey here saw my driver dodging Fey the size of mountains, and we were correct in our guess that their domains are not so easily defined as the Dust Lords of Leas. 

I can see why Valos' rangers make their weight in coin. They track through peril to cart supplies in from other cities, or to forage for the rare resources of the Badlands. Those who return throw themselves to revelry - incidentally, I've been to some parties here that put our school days to shame. Drinks, brawls, dancing, and song - at any given night you can find all four on the same street. On occasion you'll also find a formal duel. There's also something called a red-winged dive, where you climb up the mast of one of the ships at port, and - well. I should stay on topic.

The chaos of the place is beautiful, in its way, but it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth seeing that blood flows as freely as the wine in this city. There are many factions that fight for control of commerce here, but five families stand head and shoulders above the rest. Of them, two women in particular run the city. They are not fond of one another.

Amidst all this I've somehow managed to make study of the water-dwelling Fey who wander at the edges of Valos' port. I'm no stranger to the sea, but it's a particularly beautiful sight here. The desert brushes right up against the waves, and it looks almost unreal to my eyes. The Roc Fey embody this strangeness. The giant birds swim as well as they fly, and sink ships by plunging up through their hulls like paper boats. When prey on the water is scarce, they turn to the desert, hunting for humans, whom they've developed a particular taste for.

All this to say were I you, I'd rethink your trip to this city. But if you insist on visiting, be careful. The people here have a saying as familiar to them as the laws of magic to you and I: 'Evast merain.'

There are many graves in the Badlands.

I am, always, your friend and colleague,

Wren Iolenas