[Excerpt on an Overseer's report on black market occult artifacts]
The following note was found at the site of a ritual murder, attached to the victim's face by nine fishhooks, arranged in a suspicious pattern. We inferred that the two parties were involved in a conflict over the construction and sale of a superstitious charm, using pieces from older (possibly damaged) heretical artifacts. Full investigation recommended, focused on the person named Lilika from Serkonos.
Lilika, you cheat. For months I poured coin into your pockets, paying for all the things you requested: food and lodging at the outskirts of town, livestock with birth defects whose purpose I cannot imagine, toxic plants and alchemical materials. The baboon blood and cartilage of deep dwelling fish were not cheap, I assure you! But even more costly was the scrimshaw I painstakingly acquired from sailors during the past year. Carved from the bones of whales and said to hum with powers from beyond the world, these cost me half my savings.
And you swore to me - swore! - that you could provide me with the charm I wanted. I was quite clear. I had your word that I would be able to visit Abrielle in my dreams, that I could woo her while sleeping. You promised that she would love me. Instead you delivered me this lump of old bones, scratched and hacked at. Wired together as if made by a child. For two weeks I kept it close to my heart. And at night when I slept I did see Abrielle, oh yes. I saw her lying with everyone I've ever hated, rivals and enemies who've bested me in business or in sport. Men who have bullied or insulted me, including my infernal older brother. I wake each morning clenching my teeth in shame and rage. Such terrible nose bleeds, I suffered, and my hair began to fall out in clumps. I threw the cursed thing in the lake just to be rid of it.
You told me you were a sorcerer. A simple charlatan, more like. Be that as it may, I want you to know the day I decided to ruin your life. I will punish you for thinking me an idiot and taking my money. I could send an anonymous message, delivered to the nearest Overseer outposts, but what I've got in mind is more fitting. There is a gang that operates in Karnaca - assassins. I want you to know that all my remaining funds will be spent putting a contract on your pretty head.
You will never see me again, Lilika, but when the butcher's blade falls on your neck, or when the poison in your milk takes hold, I want you to remember that this is how I repay those who cheat me.