Getting Started

Dear Mom,

I am well and writing from a little town to the north of Verbobonc where we stopped off to have a friend raised from the dead. His Grace sent me on a mission for the Viscount, as you know, and we are going to stop the followers of Tharizdun up in the mountains.

I haven't gotten the chance to get to know my fellows very well yet, but I hope that will change in the near future. We're an odd assortment: an elf scout, a gnome druid, a lady paladin, a priest of a heathen god, and a rather dodgy fighter from the east. With me tossed in the mix. Nobody knows what I am,yet, and I'm not sure how (or if!) to tell them.

We've had a few fights while sailing up the river—including a very funny one where we shot orcs trying to raid the ship before they could row out to us—but nothing's been too bad except for the scary old lady who killed Marid with a single glance. Because of this, I can't send any money back home right now—everything we picked up from the fights we had to sell off to get him fixed up. Well, everything except for this really fantastic sword. I kept that one and used my old sword to help with the price. I know he'll understand, but tell Uncle I'm sorry for selling the sword he gave me, anyway.

It is very cold, but I'm keeping warm, so don't worry about me. My love to you and Uncle, and please thank His Grace for the blessing before I left. I'm sure it's helped me.

Your loving son,
Jeral