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Just was prompted to come back to these posts by a PM (I don't frequent the boards much anymore) and am extremely flattered that this thread is still of interest to people, over eight years later.
My campaign did finish up, though it took a while. I don't remember if events transpired to cause me not to write a sixth letter, or whether I did and forgot to post it. I've switched computers since then, so if there was one it's been lost.
Since people still seem interested in these (and since it was kind of fun getting into A's head and indulging my inner villain) I'll work on finishing out the collection with a sixth letter. I want to refresh my memory of the campaign and try to match up the tone with the earlier ones, so it may take me a few days, but I've kept you waiting seven and a half years since my last post, so hopefully you won't begrudge me a few more days.
Once again, thank you for all the kind words, they mean a lot to me.
Okay, writing the sixth letter has been more complicated than I thought-- I remember now why I gave up on it the first time around. In short, the difficulty is that the logical place for the sixth letter is after Galdana's rescue, which is explicitly something that A doesn't anticipate or have contingency plans for. And if he writes assuming the PCs would arrive too late, that risks the PCs thinking there's no urgent reason to travel to Gallowspire to face him. I think I've come up with a decent solution, but it may take a little longer to put all the pieces together. Soon!
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Okay, that went faster than expected. Here's the sixth letter. If the party successfully rescues the Count at Renchurch, it's found (sealed) among the Grey Friar's effects, with a note instructing the Friar to leave it behind when he departs with Galdana. If they don't succeed, for whatever reason, he's already done so, and they find it waiting for them in the Necrotic Sanctum.
You,
You should be proud of yourselves. The fact that you're alive to read this means you've managed to overcome the defenses of Renchurch, undoubtedly slaying vast numbers of my most useful allies in the process. You might expect me to find this terribly vexing, and indeed there is a part of me that does. The forces arrayed in Renchurch were neither quick nor easy to gather, and replacing them will take time and effort I would prefer not to expend. And yet, I know that ultimately their deaths are for the best, as their failure to stop you is evidence that they were unworthy of their roles. As such, expending their lives in my service is a reward commensurate with their abilities. You, on the other hand, have proven yourselves as worthy adversaries, a resource far more valuable to me than any number of minions. For after all, true greatness is achieved not through the support of one's allies, but through testing oneself against great opposition. You are the trial by which my greatness shall be proven.
As I write this I am about to depart to a site which I am sure you can surmise, to prepare the ritual by which our lowly Count shall achieve his apotheosis. From Tar-Baphon's doorstep, with the power of the Carrion Crown, I will reach out, and no force in this world or the next will be able to keep him from assuming his ancestor's mantle. If he realized what an honor it is that I have arranged for him, he would surely beg that I be allowed to proceed, yet if you truly wish to stand in the way of his destiny, then come find me. You are peers more worthy than any I have found in this world, yet your stubborn opposition has proven your ultimate inferiority, which I will establish through your utter destruction.
Sincerely,
A.
At this point, A is getting very worried about the party, but he's doing his best not to show it. The resolution I came up with to the dilemma I mentioned is that he's not (consciously) considering the possibility of them successfully rescuing Galdana, assuming that his minions can at least slow the party down long enough to let the Grey Friar finish prepping the Count and leave with him for Gallowspire. This (along with the fact that he would honestly prefer not to face the party himself) is why he doesn't stay at Renchurch to help defend it. But since he subconsciously knows they could succeed, he deliberately phrases the letter to imply that he doesn't need Galdana physically present at the ritual site (which may even be true, at the GM's option), thus incentivizing the party to come after him there even if they succeed in their rescue at Renchurch. He would prefer not to risk his neck by fighting them at all, but if it's inevitable, he's pretty sure he has the best odds if he can force the fight at Gallowspire.
So there you go. A few years late, but better late than never. Thanks for all the kind words and suggestions. I'd forgotten how much fun it was slipping into the mindset of an arrogant misanthrope like A to write these letters. I hope the last one lived up to expectations.
A
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One last one. As mentioned, the original sixth letter implies that A can transform the Count at a distance, so the PCs have reason to pursue him to Gallowspire, even after rescuing Galdana. But that may not be necessary. Some groups may be willing to go to Gallowspire anyway, for any number of reasons: maybe they want to spare the Count the trauma of additional attempted abductions, maybe they're worried (as the book suggests) that A might be able to do something else with the Carrion Crown, maybe they want to prove themselves A's superior by taking him down on his home turf, or maybe they're just willing to go to Gallowspire because it's a more dramatically appropriate site for their final showdown. There's also the possibility that they *don't* rescue Galdana at Renchurch, either because the Grey Friar got away with him in the fight, or because they took too long getting to him and he was already gone.
So this is a slightly altered version of letter six, which skips the implication that the Carrion Crown can work remotely. Again, I'd only recommend using it if the Grey Friar got away with the Count, if you're *very* sure your PCs will be willing to confront A at Gallowspire anyway, or if you're prepared to potentially throw out Adorak and improvise the final portion of the campaign.
You should be proud of yourselves. The fact that you're alive to read this means you've managed to overcome the defenses of Renchurch, undoubtedly slaying vast numbers of my most useful allies in the process. You might expect me to find this terribly vexing, and indeed there is a part of me that does. The forces arrayed in Renchurch were neither quick nor easy to gather, and replacing them will take time and effort I would prefer not to expend. And yet, I know that ultimately their deaths are for the best, as their failure to stop you is evidence that they were unworthy of their roles. As such, expending their lives in my service is a reward commensurate with their abilities. You, on the other hand, have proven yourselves as worthy adversaries, a resource far more valuable to me than any number of minions. For after all, true greatness is achieved not through the support of one's allies, but through testing oneself against great opposition. You are the trial by which my greatness shall be proven.
As I write this I am about to depart to a site which I am sure you can surmise, to prepare the ritual by which our lowly Count shall achieve his apotheosis. At Tar-Baphon's doorstep, the power of the Carrion Crown will imbue him, and he shall assume his ancestor's mantle. If he realized what an honor it is that I have arranged for him, he would surely beg that I be allowed to proceed, yet if you truly wish to stand in the way of his destiny, then come find me. You are peers more worthy than any I have found in this world, yet your stubborn opposition has proven your ultimate inferiority, which I will establish through your utter destruction.
Sincerely,
A.
I think that about covers it. Thank you all so much for your kind words; I'm very flattered that these letters have been so well received, and I hope they prove useful.
A
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This thread has been a great boon to me in my efforts, and it is finally time for me to give back to it. These are the letters I wrote from the main villain--in large parts inspired by the letters presented here by the OP. In my letters I took great pains to ensure that Adivion sounded as pretentious as possible, never using fewer syllables to convey his meaning when he could flex his vocabulary. While the thesaurus was consulted liberally, I assure you that virtually all of the words used are real and only moderately tortured to fit the phrasing.
First missive, found on Kendra's doorstep some days later in the month after purging Harrowstone. Presumably delivered by animal messenger or some other combination of spell effects and loyal minions.
I simply must express my sincerest congratulations to those responsible for dismissing the spiritual residua of Harrowstone. I am truly impressed by your success—I had not thought there were any among the town who possessed remotely the intellect capable of solving such a challenge, though I must confess my equal disappointment in this outcome.
You must not take this as a personal slight, please make no mistake. It is not that I would wish you ill in your endeavours, but that I was rather looking forward to observing the gradual emancipation of the prison’s infamous host and the consequent sequelae on the nearby settlement myself. It causes me no small pang of regret to lose the opportunity to witness such a magnificent spectacle.
Yet do not fear that I am against you as a result of your unwitting interference in my designs. While the interest I held in this series of events was somewhat more than passing, I want you to know that its culmination was in no way my primary objective in the region. Merely, it was whilst reviewing the activities of my subordinates that I came to perceive the opportunity I had afforded myself as unsought for consequence of their mission in Harrowstone.
This is, of course, most fortunate for you. Had you by some happenstance inadvertently jeopardized my primary goal, I should have become most furious with you. You see, I would have been obligated to destroy the agents of any such impertinence.
Nevertheless, I bear you no ill will. Indeed, I hope that, should our paths cross again in the future, our interests at that time might be better aligned. Your success in this endeavour is indicative of a certain quality not often seen in the common rabble who infest this world, and I much prefer to make use of superior talent in service to my cause than have it wastefully discharged in impotent opposition.
Sincerely,
Second missive, found delivered to Kendra's new residence in Lepidstadt the day the party returned from Schloss Caromarc. Kendra took the letter to Judge Daramid, leaving a note for the party to meet her there. Tangentially relevant context, the party's Champion had off-screen captured a lost cultist during some downtime. I don't clearly remember what happened in that subplot, but that's what the post script refers to.
Ordinarily I find little sport in betting—one in possession of so keen an intellect as mine is rarely surprised by probabilistic outcomes—yet even so I would not have thought to bet upon your lot coming to my attention again so soon. Little did I imagine your stay in Lepidstadt might so dramatically sway the course of events set motion there as to win the freedom of Alpon’s most curious little golem from that purblind backwater. I was delighted, then, to learn that, not only had you risen above your peers once again in penetrating to the truth hidden behind dull pretense, but that you had taken it upon yourselves to storm Schloss Caromarc in search of the source of the conundrum.
Upon reviewing your actions and examining the possibilities, I am relieved to say that I do not believe your intentions here were purposefully to seek out my servants and precipitate this second crossing of our paths. Really, I must apologise. The difficulties you faced within the castle were not entirely born of its own defences. As I am sure you have no doubt learned by now, it was the actions of the selfsame cohort whose mission near the old Prison marked the first time our paths crossed, that resulted in the challenges you encountered. Like any artist, he takes pride in his work, and so saw fit to augment the castle’s defences.
However, to forefend against the possibility that something so pedestrian as blind luck or meddlesome fate should intrude upon my designs and place us together yet again, I find I must warn you of the growing depths over which you have heretofore blissfully skated. Thus far your uncommon awareness of the subtle workings of the world have been but a glimpse beneath the surface of an iced lake. From your position on the surface, you do not yet fully appreciate how precariously you stand over the Stygian abyss, nor how suddenly the ice may thin beneath your feet and plunge you into that darkness.
I do not mean to affect a menacing air by these words merely to intimidate or overawe you with inflated claims. It is simply a fact that you are not presently equipped to venture beyond your narrow shore, nor endowed with such fortuity as you would needs have should you inadvertently come to conflict with him. Suffice to say, should the name Auren Vrood be uttered in your presence or written where your eye may chance upon it, I urge you to quit the region in question with all due haste. I should be disappointed to lose so fascinating a diversion as your coterie has been to my habitual malaise in this dull, prosaic interregnum that I must endure awaiting my designs to bear fruit.
Sincerely,
P.S. I bear you no ill will in regards to the loss of my curate nor the initiates under his command. The Way has no use for such incompetence as lead them to linger in your path, so I consider this act a service. You nor the young Miss Lorrimor need fear retaliation in this matter, I do not require satisfaction.
Third missive, found tucked into Auren Vrood's robes somewhere conspicuous. This missive especially was a hit with my party. I like to believe that Adivion sent the letter to Vrood in Feldgrau without explanation other than to guard the letter closely against some future circumstance.
Fourth missive, delivered by means I forget to the party upon arrival at Caliphas. Between this letter and the last, Adivion has returned to his affable affectation in a brief sending in Thrushmoor inquiring the quality of assassin he employed. Naturally, the names mentioned in this letter are my PCs; substitute with Caliphas lore suited to your party as appropriate.
Important context; since seeing her in Lepidstadt, Kendra has been sponsored by Judge Daramid to study at the Quarterfaux Archives. As soon as the party visit her apartments, she demands to know if they have received any new letters, then compares the '⟠' monogram to one of her professors. This kicks off a short subplot where the party gives a simulacrum of Adivion Adrissant an existential crisis hard enough to dissolve him into sand.
I suppose this means not only has Rask failed in his mission, but he has allowed himself to be caught—meaning you have destroyed yet another of my more loyal and successful agents. Disappointing, yet not unexpected. I shall not insult your intelligence by once again offering my hand in concord. No—there can be no further measure of your mental faculties at this point than your continued obstinacy in testing yourselves against my patience.
Fortunately for you, I am a remarkably patient man, and feel I must commend your prodigious talent for sheer persistence to make up for where intellect and critical acumen leave you wanting. Indeed, you recall to me a trio of dancing monkeys I witnessed performing on the streets of Caliphas in my youth. At the time I marvelled at their apparent sophistication and cleverness for members of their species, but soon grew disenchanted when it became apparent that the simple beasts were merely but repeating ingrained motions by rote.
I almost regret that the impending fruition of my grand designs compel me to repair to another location even now as you arrive to meet me in the city of my alma mater. Caliphas truly is, as the cognoscenti say, the very soul of Ustalav—stubborn, backbiting, and shrouded in fog and ignorance. I think you will like it there.
In my absence you simply must accept my recommendation. I know certain of your number are fond of vain extravagance, so young Highmore could do worse than to retain a room at the Majesty—provided they have the coin to spare from their wardrobe. On the other hand, perhaps they and their shoulder angel, Ms. Niviri, would feel more at home in the Hound’s Tooth—I’m told the drinks there are the cheapest in the city, and only slightly diluted. Stonefist (we have yet to be introduced but think not I have overlooked your entrance into our little games), I’m sure will prefer Mists and Dreams where the proprietor sells only the finest veneer of authentic Vudrani tea, blended from the most exotic local varieties.
Of course, one must not neglect the spiritual needs of one’s guests in troubling times as these, and Caliphas does not want for just such an opiate—the Maiden’s Choir is sure to please Ada and remind her of home, though I speculate whether it is the maidens or the choir that will catch her eye first. Be that as it may, I understand her tastes have shifted to run considerably less Pharasmin these days—perhaps then, Thunderbane would like to take her to the Dawngrace Memorial where they may pay their respects to the twelve thousand casualties of futile violence to usurp the city from the Whispering Tyrant’s grasp. Here, I find, is the best place to reflect upon the awesome genius and power of the risen lord and the costs in pointless lives discharged in vain for opposing his will.
Naturally, should such contemplation instill in any of you some sudden grasp of your own mortality and the pointlessness of attempting to stall out my grand machination, know that I have solved far more challenging problems than your interference on the road to apotheosis. If you were to surrender the Raven’s Eye immediately, I could be persuaded to overlook your little impertinence in the mistreatment of my agents. With Rask’s moribund key I’m sure you should have no trouble establishing contact, should your magical talents prove insufficient.
Sincerely,
Fifth missive, found conspicuously propped upon Kendra's kitchen table amidst the wreck of her apartment. I don't remember if this letter arrived before or after the one sent by Ramoska. Naturally, I have replaced Galdana with Kendra (perhaps an unknown illegitimate child of his, adopted by Lorrimor). Oh yeah, forgot to mention, but I replaced the Raven's Head with a staff more befitting my party's utility, and renamed it the Raven's Eye, owing to the detachable gem in the eye socket which reveals the presence of undead.
Some months ago, I assured you that you need not dread that I would divert my wrath to Ms. Lorrimor as a convenient means of retaliation toward yourselves. I would like to assure you that this remains true—these words may be meaningless to you but I am a man of far greater character, and I would not have you believe I would ever have stooped to so petty an act.
No, I have not taken my dear late colleague’s fosterling in order to do you injury, but rather because I require her for another matter. Heretofore her role in our little contretemps has merely been as a singularly convenient window through which to view your activities, but you see, unlike your ill-fated coterie, Ms. Lorrimor is on the path of a great destiny—one which I now see Petros sought to hide from her in that backwater prison town. An apt choice.
Tediously predictable as you are, I’m sure we shall be making our first and final face-to-face meeting soon. Only ensure that you remember to bring the Raven’s Eye with you–and the curious time-displaced tengu you found within. His story is one I am most fascinated to learn, as one who witnessed the might of the whispered lord firsthand.
Sincerely,
P.S. Do try to make haste. The return of the greatest mind ever to conquer the mortal condition that this miserable ignorant world has ever seen is not an event to which one arrives fashionably tardy, and I would hate to lose the chance to see the last glint of insolent hope leave your eyes in person.
Final missive, found upon the altar in the inner sanctum at Renchurch, intended to be left by the Grey Friar when he departed the cathedral. As in the book, Adivion has miscalculated the Friar's ability to escape the party and has immortalised this error in his usual overbearing prognostications. Aside that, in my game I made an attempt to insinuate that merely depriving the Carrion Crown ritual of its components is not enough to guarantee failure, nor that the components gathered are the only that could be substituted. I believe they will go to Gallowspire because that's where the boss is, but if they ask, I would test their willingness to bet that the ritual cannot work without Kendra.
You may take pride in yourselves. You have come a long way from our first correspondence in Ravengro. Perhaps, on this eventide of my great labour, I have been stricken with a momentary touch of that mortal affliction, Nostalgia, but observing your steady chrysopoeia these last few months has recalled to me a shade of mine own inexorable ascension beyond the compass of this contemptible world.
That you are reading this means you have done exactly as I knew you must, given your obstinate nature. In so doing, you doubtless have destroyed a considerable measure of my most productive servants. Naturally, you might expect that foreseeing this possible—nay, likely—course of events has caused me much vexation, however in this estimation you would be mistaken.
I confess it will bring me no small disappointment to lose those ancillary forces garrisoned at Renchurch. I would have preferred to obviate such a curtailment of the resources at my disposal, yet in so losing I have gained a far greater reward. For you see, even as I congratulate you in your moment of triumph, I must congratulate myself all the more.
The failure of Renchurch’s assembly to check your advance demonstrates the disappointing mediocrity which infests this organisation—thus their fate is commensurate with their ability. On the other hand, you who have penetrated to the Whispering Way’s innermost sanctum; you are far more valuable to me. Such a deed has allowed you the prestigious honour of being recognised as adversaries worthy of my prepotence.
Even you must appreciate by now that the true hallmark of greatness is achieved not through mere association, neither allies nor sycophants, but in testing oneself against great opposition. You are the trial I shall face upon the Tyrant’s own doorstep that shall attest to my own sovereignty.
At the time of reading this missive, the Gray Friar shall have already transported our mutual acquaintance to me. I await your attendance, but do not tarry—I shall not wait long. I mean to conduct the Carrion Crown on the eve of the Tyrant’s conquest.
Do not disappoint me.
Now that was a lot of words, so without further prevarication, I humbly leave you. Once again, my gratitude to OP, from whom I stole liberally to outline my own letters.