1) Be creative, boring letters will be tossed in the fires
2) Don't post in foo colors or risk the wrath of the Post Master
3) Use the stamps (or don't it's your life your risking not mine)
Stamps donated by the ever merciful @Moriel
Regdûsh aka Trollpuke
You’re never going to get my shop! I know it was you that put me on that boat in the middle of the ocean. Don’t try to deny it. The plot was so dumb and convoluted who else could it be? Did you think pretending to be stuck out there too was going to fool me? Ha! I’m the smart one, you’re the ugly one. Remember ChAoS bRo? You can’t have my murder hornet shop either, you don’t’ have the green to be able to handle them. Though you’re welcome to a free sample of a bee in your bonnet!
Your Best ChAOs BrO
Reg was surprised to find a letter had arrived for him. Everyone knew he couldn't read!! Who would throw this knowledge in his face like this?!?!? He kicked a nearby rock, then trundled about, looking for someone to decipher the weird squiggly symbols on the parchment. His eyes widened when a man read him the message. "Psss psss psssss psssss," he dictated in the man's ear as the other scribbled out the response. It said:
CoOl sTOrY, BrO
With a flutter of glossy wings and a GWAH! to demand the attention of its recipient, a raven delivers a small scroll of fine, thick parchment, sealed with golden wax, and smelling faintly of anise…
I must admit I was surprised to receive your invitation to supper, but the evening did not disappoint. Quite some time has passed since I attended such a delicious and illuminating occasion. After such hospitality, it is only right that one return the compliment. You will attend upon me this evening in my chambers at Minas Morgul. It will be a private affair.
May the Ice be cold and the Iron be cruel.
Look, I know you said the murder hornet apiary was a bad idea and that you thought I was going yo get myself killed try it. But guess what! I did it! I put in a petition in the Black Market and they approved it! I need to find the space for a tent and someone willing to build the apiary frames but other than that I’m in the clear! Ha! And you said it would be a bad investment. What do you think now, dear brother? Your dumb younger brother isn’t so dumb after all is he? Anyway, I’m going to give you another opportunity to invest before I talk to my cHaOs BrO, Reg. I’m certain he'll invest, and once people see how amazing an idea this apiary is they'll want to invest too! Now is your chance to be a part of the Fleeg Empire!
Your brother from the same mother
Fleeg, you hopeless moron,
It's not so much that a murder hornet apiary is a terrible idea (I mean, don't get me wrong, it IS a terrible idea), it's that you are an endless garbage stream of terrible ideas! What in Melkor's stinking pits makes you think that you, of all people, will be a successful businessgoblin?
For one thing, you're utterly unable to keep a normal schedule. People like knowing when they can come buy your stuff! But if you're not there half the time (as you so clearly aren't, given all the ludicrous adventures you and that Regdûsh are always going on), how are people going to give you their hard-won or stolen coin for the goods you have to offer?
For another thing, you've now sunk your entire inheritance into failed business endeavors. Yes, I know this because I snooped on your accounts. So what? Try to stop me. I have access to information about your financials you could never dream of! And no, you are NOT getting my half of the inheritance. It's mine, and I'm going to sock it away like the miserly bookie I am so I can retire from the Necromancer's Guild in style in just a few years. I'll be set for life with the interest I'm earning at JPMorgoth's Mace & Co.!
Good luck with asking Reg for money. He can't even read, let alone keep hold of any of his possessions. Yeah, I talked to his old lava snake the other day. PLEASE don't mention this to him, though. I really don't like talking to that guy.
Don't forget that I have offered to teach you the basics of accounting NUMEROUS times. I will gladly offer those services once more if you will just stop this tomfoolery and do something sensible with your life.
Your brother in blood but apparently not brains,
Today, he wrestled Art into submission, then held a hot coal to his neck with some tongs while Art hastily scribbled out the following letter:
I'm in the mood to kill some guys. I mean, I always am, but right now I've an urge to beat up several increasingly tough guys in a row and then leave their bleeding carcasses behind for some poor bugger to clean up after me. Meet me at the Tower of Might tomorrow at sundown if you wanna try claiming some of the glory or whatever, ya blasted centipede for brains.
Your ChAOs bRo,
Finally coming to your senses, I see? I knew you’d be the KaOs HerManO that gave in first. But that’s okay, I still think you smell like spider guts. You want to take on the Towers of No Return eh? But what happens when you die and I have to leave you in there because you’re not allowed to come back? Don’t get me wrong, oliphaunt breath, I’m 100% done for this (that means yes you tusk toothed oaf), I just want you to know that I plan on winning and if that means I have leave you behind to get eaten by a balrog, so be it. I know, I know about our mutual murder pact. I haven’t forgotten. Fear not, dear Reg-douche, I will definitely, absolutely kill that balrog if he eats you in revenge. I promise you. See you at the towers ole buddy!
Your much more handsome, smarter, more business savvy, and cleverer friend
PS: I’m bringing my murder hornets and you can’t stop me
Can you read? Where do you live? I realize these are two questions I should already know the answer to given that I am trying to write to you but I’ve already stolen the pen and paper so I might as well make the most of it. I have a problem. I think you know his name. Regdûsh. Remember him? See he’s really mad at me for, uh, something. I can’t remember why exactly. Anyway, I cramped up in a storage closet in the Halls of Injustice and I know he’s down at the pub but if you could keep him distracted while I plan a way to escape.
I’m Fleeg by the way. I don’t know if you know who I am at all. Or if you care. I’m a friend of Reg. His CHaoS BrO. I don’t know why I wrote it like that. I think that’s just how we say it. Wow that looks dumb. I can’t erase it though and I don’t want to risk trying to steal more paper so, whatever. He’s my friend and he wants to kill me I’m pretty sure. I think he just needs time to cool down. You know how he can be when he’s red hot with anger. He’s dumb as a sack of snails though so it shouldn’t take long for him to get distracted and wander off.
I’m not sure what lava snakes like but I’m a procurer of fine things (do you like murder hornets?) and I can give you the Fleeg Guarantee (trademark pending) that I can get you whatever you need.
PS. Currently I’m stuck in a closet so in lieu of sending a letter back return of post, just send it to Druviz Kadar and I’ll find a way to get it.
A well-muscled lava snake slithered up to the post office with a letter clutched in his sinuous tail. How he had learned to read and write and rhyme was anyone's guess, but here he was, about to send off a missive.
I hope this letter finds you in good health
And in a prosperous enough position to put wealth
In the pockets of small snakes like me, down on their luck
You see, I hate that Reg guy cause he's such a dumb fred
Uh oh, it's plain that you're a guy in trouble
So if you want my help, well, you'll have to pay double
But hey, I can help distract old Regdûsh if the price is right
If not, then have a nice life.
A crusty looking Lizard bearing a package waddles inside the post office at the behest of its owner, who is doing her best to remain out of sight. He makes his way up to the Post Master, where the package is already stamped with a handwritten letter on it.
From: It doesn't matter, you can't even read, right?
I've met you once before, and I just had to do something nice for you. Every child deserves a nice toy, right? So I had this one made just for you! Hope you like it!
The package contains a stuffed lizard, not unlike the one that delivered the package. Each of the legs is attached to the body by way of strange little spines that seem perfect for detaching and reattaching, letting little Grobby rip the legs off of it as many times as they desire.
Don't worry about my secrets; they know more than you do, and I can trust them to protect my back. Heed my advice: leave me alone.
Best wishes (of the worst)
You know who
I hope this letter finds you well and with father out of your hair. I am sorry it has been so long since I have been able to contact you. As you might remember I was recently forced to relocate to a new premise. Regdûsh’s insistence that he not have to clean up his “alarm clock” every morning finally reached its zenith when I found something… growing out of the pile of dead bodies. I’ll save you the fungal horror and not describe it too much, but I hope you can see my reasons. I found a place in Udûn though. It’s a bit on the expensive side but the views are excellent and all bills are included in the rent. I’m hoping I can reach out to my old professors at the University to see if there are any positions available amongst the faculty. I’m hoping they have a rhetoric position available. I think I would do quite well in that niche. I hate to ask, but perhaps you could use some of our family connections to make sure the position is available? The department head is close to retirement I’m sure. I bet a visit from you or from grandfather would expediate his departure?
I’m teaching Regdûsh to write. I think that was a mistake. He has only mastered the first three letters of his name but he seems to be quite proud of that ability. He’s ruined more than a few copies of my first editions. I had to move or I might have killed him.
Speaking of killing him, have you heard that he had his friend have opened a spa? A spa, in Mordor? I don’t understand how we are brothers. Do you think you picked up the wrong infant at the spawning pits? He’s growing mushrooms in there. I don’t understand his obsession with fungus. It’s creepy.
I am keeping an eye on him though. Just because I want to kill him and let his mushrooms eat him doesn’t mean I would actually do it.
Anyway, I hope all is well. I’m enclosing a chapbook of poetry by Lugzug Death Axe. He’s new. I think you’ll enjoy his haikus.
Dear Steed-master of Mordor,
I have placed at least a hundred orders for this and I don't know where they keep winding up!! Probably in some pit somewhere!
Let me make it a hundred and one -
GIVE ME A WINGED BEASTIE.
It will cut my messaging time in half at least! Don't you give a shire about efficiency around here?!
Durzhat the Messengorc
who sometimes gets tired of running marathons back and forth over hot sand and spewing lava all day and night and would appreciate a winged beastie of her own (and is beginning to think this is a class-ist society in which only the precious Nazgul get to fly. SO unfair.)
My dearest son,
You know me too well. I kicked your father out of the house for the 69,284,305th time yesterday, so he is well and truly out of my hair - for now, at least. I will enjoy the peace afforded me by his absence while it lasts.
I applaud you for making your escape from Regdûsh. You know I had such high hopes for what a positive influence you could have on that boy, but knowing when there’s no path forward is wise. I suggest you keep that in mind where this experiment in teaching him to write is concerned. I’m afraid very little good will come of it, for his sake and society’s.
As my son, you are more than deserving of every good thing that comes your way, including a job, so of course I will write to everyone I know with connections to the University. What is the point of being the brilliant grandchild of a pioneer in his field if you aren’t entitled to a few benefits from time to time? Your grandfather and I shall pay the aged rhetoric professor a visit, too.
I had heard about the spa. Ordinarily, I would be keen to pay such an establishment a visit - do you know how hard it is to come by a good manicure in these parts? - but it’s probably for the best that we ignore them. Nothing good can come of indulging Reg’s flights of idiocy. And that friend of his! Such a shame he didn’t turn out as well as your friend Mig did. Do you hear much from him these days? Please tell him I say hello if you see him.
At any rate, I’ve had several ancient volumes delivered here while your father is away, courtesy of your grandfather’s old colleagues. There’s one on the Philosophy of Nothingness that you might particularly enjoy. Do feel free to drop by and visit your old mother sometime!
All my affection (I mean it. I have none left for Reg or your father),
P.S. - I found the poetry delightfully brutal. We should try to attend Mr. Death Axe's next public reading.
It does my heart good to hear from you, it also does me good to hear that you’ve kicked out father once again. Perhaps he will be taken by one of the many roving bands of wild wargs that pick off stragglers. One can hope at least, however with Father’s luck he will return home with an entire pack in tow. I recall a time in my childhood when you kicked him out (and off a cliff) that he came home on the back of a giant sabertoothed cat. Reg and I were very excited by the prospect of having such a fearsome beast that you couldn’t say no. It would have been better to suffer the disappointments of a child and an idiot though, in retrospect. Father forgot to let the cat loose when a rainstorm hit at the cat ended up drowning. I miss fluffy sometimes. I wonder if he was the last of his kind. I rarely visit the biology department of the University but that is mostly due to the smell and the strange sounds that come from that building at night.
I will take your advice as it concerns teaching Reg anything. I truly thought I could teach him how to break from our father’s pestilent influence. I was so wrong. It seems that all Reg truly excels at, other than being a disgrace, is growing mushrooms. He’s developed a strange relationship with the mycelium of Mordor. If I were to guess, I would say it has something to do with the simple neural pathways they both share. Pray to the Void that those two never combine into anything. Society would be the least of our worries. Reg is a moron, but he does have potential. I thought I could shape that potential and build upon our family’s prowess, alas for my hubris.
Would that Mig were my brother instead! The goblin is much more fit to be a member of our family than Reg, and he is out of place within his own clan. He might be descended from royalty, but that line is stretched so thin it creates miscreants like Fleeg. Mig, though, is different. He has a brilliant mind for numbers and schemes. He and I play chess regularly, a vice we picked up at University that has never truly been sated. We know it’s a human game, and though you have always taught me that “nothing good can come from human things” I believe we can use this game to understand our foes and eventually out maneuver them, or at least find a way to come up with a superior, pure orkish game based on similar principles. Mig is working at the Necromancer’s Guild last we spoke. It might not be the vaunted obsidian halls of academia, but he has a finger on the pulse of all the clans and gangs of Mordor through that hub. Perhaps we ought join him and watch a match or two sometime?
You found a book on the Philosophy of Nothingness? I bow to your skills Mother, truly. I have searched the libraries night and day and found nothing. I even put in a request to search the archives of Minas Morgul. You must tell me your secrets!
I appreciate your assistance in the matter of the rhetorics professor. I am sure that, once he sees reason and the logic behind… early retirement, that I will be a shoe in for his position. There are so many things I believe I can teach the young orcs of tomorrow. We can be more than brutes like Reg and Father. Imagine a world were orkish philosophy has overtaken the vile elven stuff! The will to power!
I will visit you soon, I give you my word dear Mother. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than walking the halls of our estate once more, skulking through the stalagmite gardens until the light of a hunter’s moon or haunting the lofty towers of midnight. Lugburz might be the capital and the center of all politics in Mordor, but the Von Zautok Estate is the truest gem.
Your ever obedient son,
P.S. – I have heard rumor that Lugzug Death Axe is going to participate in something called a “Rap Battle” with the troll Derph in the Ashen Amphitheatre. I can only speculate what the nature of the battle will be, but perhaps it will be an event we can attend?
My dârling son,
How are you? Truly? I know that the delay in your ascension to a full professorship at Cirith Ungol University has worn hard on your spirits. In recent weeks, I wrote many letters, but all the ravens I sent returned with empty claws. However, I have some better news on that score: your grandfather and I paid the elderly department head. While he was extremely reluctant to step down, we made him see sense. He has since retired to a dark, sealed chamber at the base of the longest underground staircase in the building. The door is stone, so I should think it thick enough that no one will hear his screams.
In order to assume his role, I believe you are summoned to some sort of duel with the presumed heir to the position. I think he still teaches that idiotic seminar, “The Meaning of Nihilism.” I have no doubt that you will best him at every turn. You know where to find the terms and rules of engagement for this duel. Please keep me updated on when and where it is to occur. I would like to attend to show my support, and so would your grandfather.
I hope you have been spending more time with Mig and on this “chess” you speak of than with your brother. The former seems likely to augment your skills of reasoning and abstraction, while time spent with Reg is predestined to erode your intellect simply by association. Dark stars, what did I do to deserve such a child? I ask myself that question every day. The best antidote for this shame is knowing that you are out there, doing great things and ensuring that our family’s name is not stamped into the mud and mushrooms.
As for procuring that book, it was nothing. In fact, the Philosophy of Nothingness teaches such things. It would give me great joy to loan you the book. Learned as you are, sometimes there is great power in an empty mind. (Not the same kind of emptiness that fills your father’s head and Reg’s, to be clear. Philosophical Nothingness far outstrips anything their feeble little brains are capable of.)
We should most certainly attend this “Rap Battle” - I saw a poster for it on the way home from the university. I’m intrigued by the idea of verse set to a rhythmic beat. And of course, the notion of a battle is always intriguing.
On a different note entirely, have you seen or heard from your father recently? I’m not worried about him, exactly, but there have been a series of disturbing scratching noises at my bedroom windows at night, and I wondered if it might be him, trying to claw his way back into my home and my bed. Perhaps it is merely a murder attempt. I’ll let you guess as to which I would prefer.
All my love,
I owe you a debt of gratitude! You were indeed correct. I was summoned to a meeting of the Board of Regents right after I read you letter. Your timing could not have been more impeccable! I was able to prepare some notes in preparation for this “duel” and let me tell you, it made all the difference. The little gnat didn’t know what hit him! He was clearly being groomed by the old department head, but even with all his experience and training he was no match for your son! I would hazard a pun to say he no doubt knows the true “Meaning of Nihilism” after his sound defeat. I’m sure he would relish the idea of an independent study, far, far from here, perhaps somewhere in Khand? I will see what I can do with my influence now. Your favorite son is now the Head of the Department of Orkish Philosophy and Rhetoric! I could not have done this with you and grandfather. The wheels of educational justice have finally begun to turn after so long having been stagnated by putrescent minds and fearful rhetoric for so long. Believe me when I tell you mother, we are at the cusp of a new age! New schools of thought will spring like cactus from the dry earth bed, they will be as weeds and choke out the old, decrepit, and closeminded viewpoints. The Age of the Orc will be a great one indeed. And I shall make sure all the histories know that you, mother, were at the forefront, fighting for reform. You will be remembered as a saint.
Rest assured, dear mother, I have given up trying to teach Reg anything. I longed for him to at least be able to do a small measure of mathematical equations and being able to read the simplest of words, but I see the folly in that endeavor now. Some orcs were meant to be crushed under the wheel of progress. I can only mourn all the lost time I could have used to better myself. Selflessness oft is the bane of the innovator, I fear. But no more! I shall pour myself into my work. Chess will be ever present of course. Strange that a human game of strategy can be so compelling. Mig and I are working on some rule alterations to make the game more orkish and suitable for popular consumption. I find that exercise a much better use of my time.
I have precured us two front row tickets to the event! I hear there will be a question and answer segment at the end of the battle that will help expound on the themes and motifs they used during the battle. I’ve done a bit more research into the two combatants as well. Apparently, there is a “beef” between the two of them, something about Death Axe stealing Derph’s fiancée the night before the wedding. Odd, but I suppose some people do care about such things. I will admit the colloquial term confused me, something the younger generations are using to refer to bad blood. Interesting use of language, wouldn’t you say? I am quite excited as I have no idea what to expect.
The Philosophy of Nothingness was nothing short of brilliant. I have learned so much and I have only read the book once. The void is such a fascinating concept, to fill one’s self with such emptiness, ah, it is too brilliant for words. I suppose that could be a pun as well. No words can describe nothingness after all.
I have not heard from father in some time. I came to me a month or so ago, after you had kicked him out again. He asked if he could spend the night on my couch. I lent it to him but he never made good. I arrived home that evening from work (grading papers into the early morning hours) but found no telltale sign of his habitation. The couch was not covered in an oily sheen, there was no odor of malfeasance, nor were there any of his things. I assumed he found better accommodations with his favorite son. The events you describe sound very much like father, a blunderingly bad attempt at, well at anything. I’ve given a few of my students an extra credit assignment: find him and make sure he cannot get within a mile of your home without your expressed consent.
Ever faithfully and favorably your son,
I hope I have already conveyed this in person with the big box of Mordor’s most biting peppermint tea and that stack of rare, ancient tomes, but I will say it again: congratulations, my boy, on your glorious victory! If anyone could outsmart that old obnoxious moron (finding meaning in nihilism, I tell you…), it would be you. Regarding the dawning of a new era, I believe your every word. A new order - an Arthûrian order - will arise from the ashes of its former department head (assuming someone finds and cremates him) and bring incredible scholarship and grant funding uncounted to the University. I shall have to buy myself a CUU sweater the next time I’m in the bookshop. Or perhaps you could pick one up for me? I’ll gladly reimburse you for whatever it costs.
I am pleased to hear that you’ve abandoned all your - undoubtedly well-intentioned - plans for Reg. The last time I saw him, he was chasing a geode which was rolling down a hill. This is his place. Yours is in the ivory (or is it obsidian?) tower of the Philosophy Department. It is a law of nature, just like the one that makes lava flow down the mountain, and not up it.
Speaking of Mig, would the two of you like to stop by sometime for dinner? It’s been an age since I saw that clever little friend of yours. I would like to hear from Mig himself how he’s doing and how his parents are dealing with Fleeg (his brother, not the other ones). I think we might all be able to commiserate or swap tips for dealing with moronic children, so maybe I’ll ask him if they might be interested in getting together sometime.
I have been investigating the origins of the word “beef” to refer to an interpersonal conflict. Apparently the denizens of the White City (and other ostensibly “free” lands) used to scream “Hot beef!” when confronted by the likes of you or me in a attempt to get the authorities to take action and apprehend us. No idea why. Anyway, when you and Mig stop by for supper I’ll explain all the rest to you. The term has a long and storied history and I was very pleased to witness its latest incarnation. That poor Mr. Death Axe - I hope losing a leg won’t impede his career writing verse.
Your father has arrived in the vicinity. The other afternoon, one of the slaves showed up at the main house all singed and screaming. “Him…” the little thing moaned. “He’s back…” I’m not sure what your father means by it, burning up a perfectly good servant. Maybe he is trying to send a message? If so, it’s not one I particularly care about. There are always more snagas to be purchased.
Anyway. Please let me know if and when you and Mig might like to stop by. It would be a delight to host the two of you.
Congratulations again on a lifetime of achievements!
From your lips to Sauron’s ears! The dawn of an Arthûrian Age. I like that. I like that quite a lot. We should run down to the patent office in the Hall of Injustice to fill out the copyright paperwork. There is sure a profit in that and, if you’ve taught me anything in my years, it is to have an eye out for any way to make a profit (and keep it in a separate bank account that father and Reg can’t access). And speaking of grants and scholarships, the annual Fundraiser’s Masquerade is coming up soon. As the new department head is falls to me to organize the event. Thankfully, I have an assistant now that I can use and abuse to make sure all the details are taken care of. You might like her, her name is Chârlotte. Her handwriting is impeccable. Should you need a hundred invites written, she’s your snaga (she is, of course on loan to you, dear Mother). I hope you will be able to attend, and maybe father can go missing around that time (off another mushroom bender I’m sure) so that you can have a more worthy escort. I will certain that Chârlotte has the bar stocked with your favorite brand of absinthe.
I have taken the liberty of buying a dozen variety of CUU attire. The package might arrive a little later than the letter, the post office can be so inefficient, but I assure you that you will love the designs. You needed worry either, if there is a design you find distasteful or boring or reminds you too much of father, we can have the graphics department make you a new custom design (whilst roasting the previous graphic student on an open barbeque pit).
I will send word to Mig immediately! He has been itching for an excuse to get out of the Plains of Gorgoroth and a visit to high society is just the thing he needs. (Fleeg… I just can’t)
The origins of “beef” shock but do not surprise me. The “Free Cities” are ever full of racism, classism, and sexism of every kind. And they dare to call us barbaric. Ha! I sometimes wonder if they really believe they are on the right side of this conflict or if they are so used to going through the motions of hating orcs and goblins that that’s all they know. As the saying goes though “racism isn’t inherent, it’s taught”.
Ah, poor Death Axe. I certainly didn’t expect the troll to bring, well an axe. It certainly made the event lively didn’t it? I hear they are now selling off parts of the leg as souvenirs, signed by Death Axe himself of course before he nearly expired. Shall I purchase one for you? The University’s expense account is quite vast and discretionary. A few inches of femur would look amazing on the mantelpiece next to that bit of the Dark Lord’s old armor that great-great-great grandfather Liâm was able to pilfer and smuggle out of Minas Tirith. They’re also selling vials of his blood, but they are selling rather quickly due to their lower price.
I will admit, I do not understand the inner workings of father’s mind. The phrase I believe is “the wheel is spinning by the hamster is dead”. I believe it’s a goblin phrase used to describe how stupid a person can be while still ambling about. Apparently, goblins experimented with necromancy and zombie-ism in the old days. Naturally it did not go well because the dead like to stay dead. In father’s case, however, I believe it has something to do with courting rituals. I did some research before writing you back. Apparently, back in the days before the sun, apologies were given between members of the upper class by burning a servant. It was discontinued during the Second Age because the orcs were needed for all the war efforts and the feuds between orkish houses was growing to such an extent that an apology could end up wiping out a regiment (and a forest). Why father is doing this and where he learned it is a mystery to me. I will make sure the students keep him at a distance. Should I put a bounty on him? Just so we can keep track of his movements?
I look forward to dinner with you and Mig! I will bring a bottle of the finest mushroom grog to celebrate.
My dear sôn,
A profit from a patent sounds exactly like the kind of thing that built my family up from the ash and rabble of Mordor and made us what we are (save your father and Reg, of course). I’m glad that Mig brought up all the tax benefits of filing a patent for the phrase over dinner, too. That lad has a good head on his shoulders. I’m quite glad it’s not been forcibly removed by someone at the Necromancer’s Guild by now - I haven’t been there in ages, but accidental beheading does seem like the kind of thing that would happen to a scrawny bookie in such a place.
I am enclosing a few sweaters which, alas, did not quite suit me. There was one rather hairy knitted thing that did, in fact, remind me of your father. So much so that putting it on reminded me of his disgusting embrace. I hope that the bookshop will not object to it having been stomped and spat on after I took it off in my distaste. It was a momentary lapse of judgement, but the thing is still in one piece.
The “Free Cities” - ha! What a misnomer. The minds of their people are certainly enslaved to a high degree of prejudice and rule-following. While there is a certain amount of chaos to be found in our lands, there is certainly far more intellectual freedom. So much so, in fact, that there seems to be an imminent socialist uprising. I only hope they will not reach us in our mansion on the lake. Of course, you are welcome to shelter here, as I imagine the university is a hotbed of this kind of backwards thinking. Do you happen to know any of these discontents? Where they get their ideas, I’ll never understand. “Even distribution of resources” - ha! Our family didn’t claw our way to the top only to evenly distribute all the swag we pocketed along the way to perfect strangers and layabouts like your father. I intend to hire the troll who battled Death Axe to stand guard with the rest of my security staff. They all can eliminate the rebels, should they make it this far. In any case, I am very glad you and Mig stopped by when you did. It’s possible that conditions will be rather hit or miss in the coming weeks.
As for the strange little snaga sent by your father . . . I’ve decided to ignore it. Your students have been doing an excellent job keeping him off the grounds - I’ve had several reports of him trying to scale the outer walls, only to be pelted with dung and rocks and other such unpleasant objects from above. Perhaps you should put a bounty on him - I hope you’re rewarding your students well with inflated grades or extra parchment or whatever it is that students want these days. Just so long as you aren’t falling victim to these silly socialist ideals with them!
At any rate, I once again thank you for visiting your old mamâ. Please keep me updated on the plans for the Fundraiser’s Masquerade. I shall, of course, be glad to donate.
~ Your loving Môther
Fear not, the designer of this hairy sweater has been dealt with. I’ve used my connections within the department, not to mention our family’s considerable weight, to make sure the poor, wretched fool that so offended you with the design of his sweater has been relegated to the custodianship of the locker room of the men’s cheese rolling team. That will teach him to make something overly wooly and hairy! I do apologize for the inconvenience you were forced to endure mother. A lady of your community standing should not have to suffer such indignities. Also, I’ve sent the few of the “designers” that okayed his work to you to act as guards. Use them accordingly.
Mig and I got right to work on the patent. We had one of his lackeys from the Necromancer’s Guild work on the proposal whilst we crunched the numbers. Sadly, that phrase was a bit too literal as we got rather uproariously drunk at the bar and broke his abacus when we tried to balance on top of it. I will admit it was not one of my finer moments, but even a Doctor of Philosophy has to cut back and break loose ever once in a while? Don’t worry, I got him a replacement the next day, well the day after because the next morning I felt like I had a hangover the size of a fell beast. How do father and Reg handle it so? Do they just… never become undrunk? Oh, who cares about them. The point I was trying to work to getting to, was that we’re ready to file the paperwork. We will need to talk to someone named Bubōsha about making sure the wheels are greased and such (can’t have our petition waiting in the wings with the great unwashed, now can we?). We will have to come up with a decent enough bribe for her. I swear though, that name sounds familiar. Is she a family friend?
I see the rumors have reached you as well. Yes, there seems to be talk going around about “equality and equity” or something such alliterative bother. While no one is as of yet fessing up to starting these rumors I have no doubt it’s coming from the literature department. While they can create wonderful battle sonnets and epic war poetry or erotic tales of trolls and the women who love them, they are not the best at playing political games. They don’t understand that the system of meritocracy and plutocracy is what makes Mordor better that places like Rohan and Gondor. Our rigid, lawfully evil, social structure is what makes us so powerful. Think of it. If Rohan stopped complaining about its chickens and forced the Dunlendings to work for them they would be much better off. Gondor is a perfect example of failed nation. Look at Númenor. Our Dark Lord could never hope to be so evil as they were at their height. The subjection and appropriations of so many cultures, ah, it’s a thing of beauty. And Gondor has failed to live up to their forefathers in every way. Sad really. If I didn’t want to kill and eat them all, I would feel pity for them. I did hear one strange rumor that I can’t quite get a handle on. Apparently, one of the people pressing for more “socialist ideals” is a sentient mushroom. That can’t be right, can it?
My students felt that a bounty was the best way, the most orkish way, to deal with such a pest. Really the bounty system works so well. It is one great wheel amongst a hundred thousand that keep the Bureaucracy of Mordor rolling along at such a pace. No sooner had I put the bounty in place, at the beginning of my lecture, than they brought me the snaga’s head, by the end of said lecture. I assume they were waiting to reveal him for the purposes of dramatics. I appreciated that they let me get my lecture on Old Frêd Nietzsche out of the way before presenting the bloody thing on my lectern. They were rewarded with a bump in a letter grade for themselves and a lower letter for whomever they choose. I do so love academy competitions!
By the time this letter reaches you, given that our postal service is still suffering controversial slow pace, the Fundraiser will be the night after. I look forward to seeing you again mother!
Your dear sôn
Your mother kicked me out again. Can you believe it? The things I put up with from her.
I don’t even know what I did. I came up drunk one night and… I don’t remember
I think I was drinking with you and that little weirdo, Flea or something, at that new pub that we found. Can’t rememember the name. Something about ice and bones. I dunno
Do you remember what it was I drank? I think it was green. I didn’t drink troll piss again did I? I thought I told you to stop doin that
Or was it your brother? Was he there? Probably not. loser only drinks with his universititty members. What a rube
Anyway, your mom is mad at me again and I can’t remember why.
Can I stay with you for a few nights?
To “Durzhat the Messengorc”
Please be advised that your letter requesting a “winged beastie” has been considered and denied. The reasons for this denial are many-fold and will be detailed below. It is also the request of this office that you cease and desist your myriad and banal requests. The Fell Beast Academy of Southern Nurn is a prestigious program with a rigorous training program, as you are no doubt aware. We are a decerning academic institution, one that requires such things as references, transcripts, and donations. Miss Durzhat, you have provided the academy with none of these. We have not even received a formal request for admission into our respected organization from you. Perhaps you were unaware of the procedures that govern much of Mordor’s inner workings? We at the Academy do not fault you though, Miss Durzhat, you are not to be blamed for your lack of etiquette and decorum. As a “messengorc” it must be difficult for you to find the time to study “The Ways of the Educated Uruk” by Teq-Viad the Vanquisher. However we have enclosed a copy for you to read at your leisure in hopes that it will contribute to your edification. Should you chose to submit a formal request for admission, you will need to obtain four letters of reference including one from an alumnus of the Academy. Once you have submitted your request the Council of Dark Riders will convene and deliberate on whether or not an admission form will be sent to you. We also offer scholarly loan programs for those of lesser financial endowments should you require assistance. That being said, if you are not serious about attending the Fell Beast Academy it would be wise of you to stop pestering us with inane demands, otherwise we will be forced to send a less cordial reminder of our power and reach
Ogidixea, Director of Admissions and Assassinations
Dear Ogidixea, "Dir., .missions and Asses",
You can take your book and bear-ocracy and shove it where the lava light don’t shine! (I’ll give you a clue, Oh Wise and Scholarly One, that means UP YOURS!)
You think you’re so smart using your big words from up in your Ivory Tower (I tell you I’ve had it with all the towers around these parts where everyone thinks they can lord over us leather-and-iron-collared ground-dwellers!). Let me tell you something else… I don’t need re-furrals or high interest loans that will sink me into a lifetime of slavery paying off debt that you offer under the guys of generosity. I know a trap when I see one. I will not be made a slave, I am Durzhat!
If I want a winged beastie, I’ll get one myself! I don’t need you or your Academy. Just you wait and see!
with no regards whatsoever
& in fact hoping you fall from your high tower and splatter on the ground below,
Durzhat chucked the “The Ways of the Educated Uruk” by Teq-Viad the Vanquisher into the first lava tube she passed.
To “Durzhat the Messengorc”
Your lack of manners is amusing, your lack of decorum is boring. However, these things are easily correctable.
You seem like the kind of orc that wants to better her position in life. I see this as an admirable trait. No doubt you have killed more than a few that have stood in your way, allowing yourself to rise up through the muck and filth that most of our brethren wallow in. Do you want to continue on your upward track, or do you want to fall back into muck and get trampled by some toothless rube? I find your attitude perfectly repellant; you remind me of me when I was a young orcling, trying to understand the chaos around me.
We have a scholarship available here at the Academy, one that most of the students, staff, and faculty don’t know about. I’ve enclosed the forms you would need to fill out with along with this letter. I’ve also included another copy of “The Ways of the Educated Uruk” because, despite your irrational attempts to the contrary, it is something you will need to know. Do you want to stay a messengorc forever? There is only one way for you to rise.
This is will also be your last chance. Unless this scholarship and hardship application is filled out correctly and, in its entirety, there will be no more communication between the Academy and yourself. A restraining order will be filed against you in the Halls of Injustice and you will be killed on sight if you are seen skulking about our unholy grounds, the only place where the winged Fell Beasts are raised and reared.
A pleasant, ashy day to you, Miss Durzhat
Ogidixea, Director of Admissions and Assassinations