(written in Dwarvish runes)

Mother and Father,

By Torag’s Will this missive will reach you at the time of his choosing.

When we parted, the plan was for me to gain experience and knowledge of the world by serving as a caravan guard for Dwarf Friend Sandru. I was content with this role. Last long it did not. Early on in our travels, Sandru suggested that I accompany some of the other caravan members when they left the caravan to explore. I politely questioned the wisdom of the act as I was his caravan guard, and not a watcher of children. He chuckled, taking no offense, pointing out that a caravan is made up of more than wagons and cargo. That all who travel with the caravan are also part of it, and as such they needed to be guarded also. Bowing to his wisdom and experience, I accompanied the (the word children is scratched out) others when they left the caravan.

I will leave the telling of the antics and escapades of my ‘companions’ to a later time, for I must pose a question that has been bothering me since I joined this caravan. Can you catch insanity from those you travel with? For, while I have become close companions with my fellow travelers, their actions and motivations still escape me. Most show no discipline to their thoughts and actions, but instead of this being followed by ruin, it is more times than not followed by success. It doesn’t make sense. But I’ve come to accept this. For the longest time, I unjustly thought they were all suffering from some sort of insanity. Now, it is just one companion that I think this. Qatana, a follower of Groetus. She claims that the mouse skulls she wears as prayer beads talk to her and give her advice on how to act and respond to all situations. No one else hears these voices. But her insistence of the existence of these voices have raised doubts to my own sanity.

I had always planned on following in your footsteps Mother, in being a armor smith. But that was not to be as I discovered early on in our travels that finding good dwarven weapons is not easy. So in my foolishness, and against your advice, I started forging an urgosh of my own. I’ve been working on it for months now and am finally reaching completion. I say finally, as up til now, as have always found just another thing I could do to improve it.

Looking back, I see Papa Sparn doing the same over the weapons he was crafting. Always attempting perfection, never being satisfied with his work. I know that Papa Sparn claimed the weapons would talk to him, but that he never quite understand what they were saying to him. I know this is why you advised me to stick with armor, so I wouldn’t fall into the same trap as Papa Sparn.

I should have heeded your advice. As I complete my urgosh, and I see now that it will be my Master’s piece, I am starting to hear something in the ring of the metal, see blurry images when I heat the metal, smell possibilities when tempering the metal. I fear in traveling with these companions, nay my friends, I have contracted some of their insanity and I am becoming like Papa Sparn.