Contract: The White Lady

Good People,

Take pity on the poor lot of us peasants. The fields outside of town are haunted by a wraith somewhat like a maid in appearance, though her visage is ghastly and sullied. You cannot walk within ten spans of the evil and hope to escape alive. It's thus keeping us from harvesting our crops, meaning famine and misery await us if nothing changes. So we plan to hand all our remaining gold to whoever drives this White Lady off or kills her.

-Helma, Ignatius' widow.

P.S. Since I've got many an inquiry into the matter already, I'll let it be known right here: I'm not interested in remarrying.