Last night, you had a dream. Your memory of it is rather patchy and disjointed; just a collection of details and feelings. There was a lot of darkness, and a sense of dread. At some point you were surrounded by fire and rain. You remember an elf in blue-and-white scholar's robes. There was something about sinking or falling, and something about a massive, dark shape looming ominously above you. You remember feeling like you wanted to lash out or run away, but couldn't grab or stand on anything; just flailing in open nothingness, terrified. You remember a piece of parchment bearing the word "delightfully" in a bizarre script. You remember chasing after something, but to no avail.
You woke up in a cold sweat, unable to even remember in what order all those things appeared in your dream. Eventually, you decide to try and clear your head with a walk through the streets of Linhaus. While wandering around, you pass a public bulletin board, and something catches your eye: one of the postings bears a salutation much larger than the rest of its text. The handwriting is uncommonly rough and un-polished-looking, and reads "Delightfully Yours" followed by an illegible signature.
Some of the sweatshop scribes have gotten jobs in the lakeside town, but have recently gone missing.