In Sschindylryn, hidden amidst the corners of the central temple, is a spider. Wary of any who come near it, it hangs from its web, and is equally careful of those it approaches. Attached to its back is a letter that looks as though its seen better cycles. The message itself, written in the Ilythiiri dialect, appears to be little more than gibberish. It could well have been penned by a mad man and there is little sense to the writing. He probably chased this poor creature down and decided to pin his crazed rantings onto it. Well, that could be one theory.
I keep on hearing the web has caught me but wont fix me just yet.
Not much longer before there is more to fix.
I have laughed when looking so clever and talk about being on the right trick.
That joke about it gave me real fits.
I am down on jalil and I shant quit them till I do get buckled.
Grand work the last job was. I gave the quip.
I love my work and want to start again.
You will soon hear of me with my funny little games.
I think I went thick like glue and saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger bottle.
Red ink is fit enough I hope ha. ha.
I do think I shall clip the tail off and send to the letter.
My knife's so nice and sharp like yarn I want to get to work right away.
Good Luck.
At the bottom of the letter, next to a indistinguishable signature, is the date . . . 15th of Nightal