To the honored Lord Bryn of the Dwarf Clan Redbeard,
Good tidings from your friends in Santuar. I hope that you and your kin have enjoyed good health, good hearth and prosperity. I must tell you that those that dwell here in Westmarch have done superb work on the Wall of Pelias, it looks a remarkable edifice. Pleasing to eyes of it's garrison while surely a thing of dismay for potential assailants.
My purpose in writing to you however is not to praise your people, though it would be no waste of paper to do so, but to inform you of our latest attempt in Morrendeep. I apologise for the time it has taken us to make our return there but I am sure given the immense dangers squatting in the depths there you will forgive us our preparations. Chiefly they were gathering artefacts of power, the drornblades Escarra and Belanus and too Cavarel, the Sword of Kastus once wielded by St Cuthbert himself. It was good that we did for these weapons are keen to destroy servants of the hated 'Masters' whose crimes against all our peoples are too great to number. Those servants by the way, which occupy your ancient Kin's home.
Now with the aid of such blades we were able to penetrate much farther into Morrendeep, beyond the guest redoubt and into part of the city itself. We had a battle with animated skeletons, these were once my own ancestors that died attempting to cleanse the taint from the place, and risen by it's curse. I was pleased to put them to rest properly. However a patrol of the Draconid's spotted the carnage of our battle and fled to warn their compatriots. We gave chase to halt their alarm but in the process attracted the attention of a deadly five headed hydra. Fortune favored us in the encounter for it was a creature of the Masters and we were able to lop it's heads off with fire and our blades before it could wreak havoc – but it did not favor us in that we had been delayed long enough for one of the surviving draconid's to set up their call.
We began to beat a hasty retreat, bitter disappointment on our lips at being driven back so soon – yet the elven eyes of Master Scarloc spotted in the distance, beyond a great garden of mushrooms and series of canals a brightly light, intact structure – he spotted the fane of Mahal. Immediately Gleipnir turned toward it instead and the rest of us gladly followed, surging over the waters until a great skeletal creature of wings, talons and hate rose out of the waters. It was stronger and feller even than the hydra, but once our feet stepped onto stone of the fane, our power waxed and it's waned. I myself was able to deliver the blow with Escarra that shattered it's reanimated spine into splinters. Following that, we entered.
It is a grand place, the only space comparable I ever entered is the Cathedral of Kastus in Kingsbridge. Mahal's resting place dominated, a magnificent stone sarcophagus with space underneath for the pious to recline in close proximity. Lining either side of it were a strange sight, trees made of stone but living and growing. Laden heavily like an apple tree before the harvest, though these fruits were shining gems that sparkled with their own light. In front of Mahal was a sepulchral Anvil large as a horse for the altar – we placed upon it our offerings and they were accepted. Gleipnir, donning his vestments sought a communion.
Things went strange then. For an instant everything became dark, but the welcome dark of one's bedroom just before slipping into a restful sleep, and I had the impression of tolling bells. Low and sonorous. And then we were outside, within sight of the Pelias wall. In each of our hands a boon in the form of one of those crystal fruits, which we later discovered enchanted our weapons. Gleipnir informed me that while it was an instant to me and the others, he had experienced much in that time and talked directly to Mahal and was given truths. One of which was the gospel of Prince Garek;
I must tell you first, the prince had died as you suspected, I believe before we even made our first attempt to locate him. However he had succeeded. He had found and retrieved the High Hammer. Having sent the key back though, he could not make use of the secret door and made for the main entrance. Something dark and terrible met him there, overwhelmed him and dealt his fate. He surely died a great hero, and as the first wielder of the hammer in many centuries there can be no doubt that his soul will find it's way back to your people, if it hasn't already. Mahal also said that having wielded the hammer, the Prince's body has not rotted and the curse has not touched him. We do not know what the fate the Hammer has, but next time we venture to Morrendeep we will retrieve your Prince and we will bring him home to you so that he may rest in state.
Fare the well friend,
Signed: Sir Eddon Grey of Northmarch
Post Script: I have included with this letter a copy of the layout of Morrendeep that we have so far explored, this is from a sketch to the best of my recollection after the fact rather than a true map but I believe it might be of interest to you and and your people as well as us here.