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Message: <blockquote data-quote="DEFCON 1" data-source="post: 3327052" data-attributes="member: 7006">Jarrith shakes his head and takes back the scroll.  He snorts in sadness once, then pulls out the opposing chair to sit down at the table.  "This is no jest, I'm afraid.  Nor any sort of game."  He sits down gently and leans in to the young man, his voice full of sympathy.  "We were brought here because of this missive, and if it was not of your father's hand... then someone else has done so.  And by the look of things, this person misspoke when they talked of witches.  It is the walking dead that is the problem."Jarrith glances around the room, his heart thick with pity for these folks driven from hearth and home.  "Am I to understand that because you saw this as a sick joke, that your father is not capable of producing such a letter?  If so, my sympathies to you.  I would have liked to have spoken with the man."  Jarrith then stands up and places his hand flat upon the table.  "Whatever the reason we were brought here... the course of my compatriots and I are clear.  We will assist you all to combat this threat."  He holds up the parchment and says in a loud voice to the rest of the people in the inn.  "Would any of you be willing to look at this notice to see if you recognize the hand that wrote it?  That answer may be a clue as to who is involved, or even responsible for the curse your town is now under.  Please.  We wish to help, but our answers have been few and far between."</blockquote>

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