[A folded, slightly charred scrap of paper, stained with something green and red that looked suspiciously like blood, lands on the Koryander, Jarrick, and Arialynn’s desk in the small hours when no one is looking. The messenger is a little bat, glowing faintly green, that chitters indignantly at this burden and flies off as soon as the reports are deposited.]
Hey, Bosslady/Redheaded Valkryie/Resident Armored Tank,
I’ll keep it short ‘n’ sweet for you guys. I heard shit going down on the Broken Shore, as if the spaceships arriving wasn’t some sort of giant signal, and figured I’d take a looksee. Sure as fel beats keeping an eye on vrykul for the umpteenth time. Thought you might appreciate the intelligence beforehand.
Before you make that scrunchy-frowny face of possible disapproval, Bosslady, remember I am a sneaky little shitfaced badass who has made her living doing this kind of stuff. I only got better when I got these rad tatts. So no worries, I got this, chillax, sit back and watch the show.
(Not a peep show. I don’t do that kind of thing except for Zee. Sorry, Bosslady! You missed your chance to HAMMER me.)
[There is an actual little winking face drawn there.]
And seriously, I was dying of boredom. DYING. Like. Illidan’s perky tits.
I’m keeping out of sight and mind, mostly. The chaos down here makes it easy for me to slip in and out. Will send more when I can via felbat.
[The other piece of parchment is a surprisingly neat, surprisingly detailed little map of the area. It includes mentions of new types of demons and their thralls/allies; the placement of a crashed horde supply ship; fel spreaders and assorted fortifications; allied bases, outposts, and positions; notable geography; and a host of other salient features, like potential targets for assassination and what is optimistically called “sentry removal”, with biting comments scribbled in the margins.]