Dear Father,

This. Is. Awesome.

This letter won’t get sent for some time, of course, because I’m still in danger of being fried or stabbed or electrocuted at any moment. If it is found on my dead body I hope somebody will have the good grace to send it along. The last time I was this close to death was, I think, when I broke our magic pitcher that we normally kept on the kitchen table. It always had cool, fresh water and I vividly recall you had me by the throat for “carelessly destroying such a valuable item”. As a ten year old, of course, I couldn’t imagine why you might not just go buy another, but that’s not always possible, is it? There is nothing like living on the edge and by your own wit, and going without fresh water for a time to drive home the value of such an item, and to really understand why, of course, glue or even a skilled glass artisan could not restore such an item to working condition.

I get it now. It’s magic. Sorry about that, almost 8 years later.

You had said that adventuring “gets in your blood” and you made it sound like some sort of horrible yet fascinating disease. And it is, really, isn’t it? You do come to like that prickly feeling that runs down your back when you hear a sound behind you and you remember with a sinking feeling that you did not close and lock the door you just came through, don’t you? And you can’t really explain it to anyone who hasn’t been there and felt it too.

Someday when I return you’ll get to read my entire journal, of course. And I hope that my writings will raise the temperature of your blood like my reading of yours did. And speaking of blood .. there’s more to our heritage than you’ve said, isn’t there? Sure, I knew about the claws, and you hinted at other things, but you said they would only reveal themselves “in due time”. And now I find that fire captures my fancy, and the one spell I have that sets my hands aflame … it seems to be stronger than the ones others do. It seems I have an affinity for fire, or it for me. What other secrets will I learn?

No matter. It’s all good. And you can probably tell I’m greatly enjoying this search for adventure I’m on. I’ve found it, by the way. I’m with a group that is trying to defeat some sort of demon seductress or maybe succubus, or — I don’t know. It’s hard to keep up. She wants to destroy a nearby town, and there’s been plenty of evil around this place, including shrines and altars to LaMashTu. But it’s not too hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys, and the bad guys ARE losing.

At Thistletop (I don’t know if you know where that is, but I’ll assume you do because I’m not going to give a geography lesson) we were trying to find out more about this Nualia and her actions here. We killed a goblin chieftain, or king, or something, and declared a whole lot of stuff ours now: healing potions, weapons, and armor. The goblins have taken over the surface and created some crude structures, but this rock has been here lots longer than they have and there are subchambers below the surface where people – or creatures – are digging up old artifacts to assist Nualia in her plot to destroy Sandpoint. We’ve killed all (I think) of the goblins here, but there are others — bugbears, giant geckos, and the like. Even other humans!

We discovered two very different ones. One could have been me in a different universe — she was a scholar first, and she gave no care to the effects of her research. It was all about the knowledge for her. The paladin said she was evil, but is that just what happens when the books rule you? We nearly killed her at first, but then revived her, talked with her, and sent her on her way. She was so … cold. She was respectful but really into her research. Had I not taken this journey, that might have been me in a few years. The room she was in was a wealth of knowledge to the right person. I recognized bits and pieces of it, but she freely admitted she was helping research ancient artifacts and yes, spells. Lyrie, her name was, but she wasn’t anything special to look at.

Nolin, of our group, took pity on a horse we found that likely was destined to be a goblin meal. It’s interesting; he seems to have a way with animals while also having a way with a particularly big looking sword. Glad he’s on our side but who could have known he was an animal handler too?

Oh, and the other human was mercenary through and through. And really, not very good. He surrendered rather than be killed, and then offered to join US! I should think not. If he changes sides that easily, I’m not sure I’d trust him at my back. We took his possessions and sent him on too. Unfortunately, as a sorcerer, I found his booty of weapons and armor to be wholly unsuitable for my use.

As we continued exploring we found a few unusual things. One was some sort of land squid — it looked like a squid but could walk on land. We chose not to disturb it, as we weren’t sure if we could handle its tentacles. It didn’t see us. And there was a room ..

The door to this room had raised figures of human women giving birth to horrible abominations. Our bard, just had to go in … and upon entering what appeared to be a place of unholy worship, he promptly drew the attention of 4 hellhounds, or something resembling that. They took great gouges out of him and — even THIS exhilarates me — they had an unearthly howl that drove Rigel and I away in unexplainable fear. We both tried to crowd into the same corner of the same distant room which, truth be told, wasn’t half bad until we awkwardly regained our senses and pretended we actually hadn’t been huddled against each other.

Being that close to her, I suppose I should check my belongings!

We returned to the room in time to see the last of the hounds reduced to ashes or dust by our fighters. The bard was barely alive — actually, I was told he had been near death several times — and the party was exhausted. It was in this state that we met the bugbear and the mercenary (did I mention the bugbear?) within a few minutes of catching our breath. I guess noise carries underground, eh?

My friends were surprised when I jumped into this fray but I just felt so … alive. Of course our claws were something you told me about early on, but you didn’t tell me everything about our heritage, did you? Oh I know you did say “more will be revealed when you are ready” but I’ve noticed an increasing fascination – no, that’s not the right word – study, perhaps, of fire. The one fire spell I have I seem to be able to cast better than our other mage but I can’t describe the technique I’m using to him. The flame is brighter and I believe the fire is hotter. And yet, for all that, I seem to burn myself even less easily than before.

Ah, but I mentioned the fire already didn’t I? It’s hard to focus sometimes.

What surprises await me? Part of me wishes you’d told me more, and part of me is looking forward to the discovery.

No matter. But I don’t see how you ever gave this up. The thrill is addictive. Did Mother make you stop? Would that be enough? I don’t know if it would be enough for me to simply be ordered to stop. I feel like there’s so much more yet, and I simply MUST experience it.

When we chased the bugbear, it went into a room that seemingly had a secret panel, because when we killed him he was frantically searching along a wall. And now, briefly, we are collecting our thoughts and belongings before descending deeper into this rock via the secret passage we’ve just opened.

I’m sorry if this letter is hard to follow. It is hastily written in an uneven hand by your very excited son, and I fear I haven’t related things in exactly the order they happened. But it’s pretty much right. I mean, if it — oh, it looks like the party is ready. When I return you’ll have to read my entire journal, as it is more structured and pedantic and proper and calm and easier to read. But after today I just felt like I had to send a letter that would get there sooner. I had to share. Even if it won’t really get sent until I return to the city. Or my body does.

But I think I’m getting more powerful. I think I feel it. I think I’ll survive. Perhaps .. perhaps even vanquish. Was it this way for you?

your giddy son,
Trask