September 16, 3042

Dear Fea,

Sorry about the delay in following up my last, necessarily brief missive. Yes, it's true that I did perish in our last expedition. The details are embarrassing and unpleasant; suffice to say that I don't ever wish to see a Hook Horror again.

Well. I do at least need to update you on how the rest of the Underdark mission went. We bargained with our Flintlock Guild contact, Georgia (with whom Simon has been flirting shamelessly)—for a Teleport Without Error scroll. None of us were going to try to fight our way into the Derro Barrows, and we weren't about to use Mikhael or Nicholas' ordinary Teleport to pop into a room we had only been able to scry on with infravision (it's dark in the Underdark, you know). We finally received the scroll, but not until after they had asked us to pay for it, and Lord Mikhael threatened to forget the mission altogether. Did you ever hear of an army that made their soldiers pay for essential equipment? Can you argue that it was essential? For heavens sake, you'd think we were asking for our own summer home or something.

Anyway, it was nerve-wracking enough, teleporting into a dark room, but that's not when I died. We attempted to be sneaky for a few moments; I think Simon finally gave us away, just before he disappeared into the far reaches of the complex—trying to find the way out, he claims. After that, it was a fairly ordinary fight; just a couple dozen derro mounted on spiders. Brilliant green Jade Spiders, I might add. Carriage-sized brilliant green Jade Spiders with acidic ichor and nearly impenetrable carapaces that bent or bounced almost any magic we threw at them.

Things went about as usual. Callous was swatting ineffectively at Derro left and right. Daniel was seriously injured early on. Simon was gone again. And there I was, fending these things off with my rapier because my spells weren't working. Nicholas and Mikhael stood back to back and did more than their share, but Sindaraen was nowhere to be seen. As it turned out, he was hiding in the side room we'd teleported into, because he had to "concentrate" to "maintain his Emotion spell." He spent fifteen minutes in there, holding this one spell that made us hopeful, for Hades' sake, while the rest of us are out in the corridor, chug-a-lugging healing potions in one hand and fighting for our lives with the other.

Well. That wasn't when I died, either. We somehow managed to fight off most of these creatures, and had barely begun looking around when the derro Savants show up. Mikhael had his hands full immediately; Daniel and Callous went to help him, and Nicholas and I paused in a side room to heal up before entering the fray. Instead, the back wall of the room I'm in blows out, and more minions come pouring in from a central, sand-filled chamber. Nicholas, thankfully, put up a Wall of Force across the break, before charging out to defend Mikhael—a fixation of his which I wholeheartedly support, but which left me alone, facing the manscorpion across a transparent Wall. I tried an ineffective spell or two, then decides it was safest to cover the Wall with a Phantasmal Force so he coudn't see me; I chose pink flowers and purple paisley, with a few little windows in it that I could cast line-of-sight spells through if necessary.

It was at this point that I saw Simon come charging into the central chamber through the back door. The manscorpion and his minions immediately turned to attack him, and I called out that I needed someone to come help me get in there and assist him. I mean, I had heard that Simon was good, but he was all alone in there against a powerful spell-casting creature, a handful of derro and spiders, and half a dozen Hook Horrors. The only door on our side of the central chamber was heavily locked and had a Sandstorm Trap on it—a nasty variant of Fire Trap that we were far too familiar with already. So I was handed the Marvelous Pigments and told to paint us a door—the rest of them (except for Sindaraen, who was retrieving a crystal ball for himself from some little room he'd been in all along) were still too busy fighting off the Savants or digging for enough reserve healing to keep themselves alive.

So I feverishly painted a sloppy hole in the wall and shouted again for someone to come help me—I could see that Simon was on his last legs. Sindaraen finally appeared in the door; I was going to wait another moment for Callous to come up behind, but then the manscorpion polymorphed Simon into a flounder, and I knew we had to act now. I sprinted across the room, dodging the spiders and the Hook Horrors to scoop Simon's flopping body out of the sand and fling it back towards Sindaraen, who has a Wand of Polymorph and could change him back before he suffocated, or to Callous, who was trying to catch up with a Dispel Magic in hand.

Now, I know all this sounds like a foolhardy manuever—something the most amateurish adventurer might try on a bad day. I'm embarrassed to even write about it now. There are so many things I might have done differently—most simply, I could have put Simon in my Bag of Holding and gone Wraithform. But I had so few spells left at that point (count them: two) that I wasn't thinking of myself as a mage. And I usually consider Wraith a last-ditch escape spell; I was worried about Simon suffocating, not about getting myself out of there. Or I could have cast my other remaining spell, Blindness, at the manscorpion, and hope it would attract his attention long enough for me to have Sind telekinese Simon back towards us. The odds were miniscule that the spell would actually work, but you never know.

If I had to go in, I at least should have told Sind what I was going to do before I went charging in alone; he might have been more prepared to help me. Or perhaps I should have waited a few more moments for the rest of the Scintillating Company to catch up, and trusted the Fates that Simon has on his side to either keep him alive until we could get to him, or to bring him safely back from the dead. The only problem is that every second he spent in his fish body meant an increasing chance that the Simon-mind would be gone forever, and that even if he died and was brought back, all Callous would be doing is Raising a dead fish.

Well, I can't say that I thought it out all that clearly at the time. I've had plenty of time to think about it since. All I can really say is that Simon needed help, and I had to give it to him. I don't think it really had anything to do with him being my brother-in-law, a fellow thief, an elf, or anything else. He was a party member in trouble, and if I were in the same situation, I would want to be able to count on my fellow adventurers to come protect me.

In a way, that's what distresses me the most about all this. I had to expose myself to attack in order to get Simon out alive—I had no opportunity to defend myself. But I knew my best friend Sind was there in the doorway, and I counted on him to do something—anything—to keep the three Hook Horrors around me off my back long enough for me to regain my balance and use my dexterity, my sword, or my Wraithform to get away. Instead, when the manscorpion cast an ineffective Polymorph at him, Sind cast an equally ineffective retaliatory spell back at him—when we knew he had magic resistance and numerous magical protections, and that the chance of affecting him with spells was minimal.

It's not that I blame Sind, really—it was my own mistakes that got me killed. And it did all happen pretty much simultaneously—he had to make a split-second decision about what to do. Who can say whether, if he had Color-Sprayed the Hook Horrors or something, that the manscorpion himself wouldn't have killed me? And it's true that Sind and I are used to adventuring with parties who believe in the look-out-for-yourself policy. It's just that he and I have worked together for so long, I thought he would understand what I was doing, and look out for me, too.

Well, the rest is kind of a blur. And then I just wasn't really me anymore. It felt like I was drifting in a slow underground river in the dark. I knew I was headed somewhere, but I didn't know where, and didn't really care. I couldn't see anything, and didn't want to, because it might hurt. And then there was this voice in the darkness, and it was Nicholas, asking if I wanted to come back now, while they were still trying to go after the manscorpion. I don't think there was any question in my mind; I just said yes, bring me back! And they did. It was as if this gigantic hand reached down into the river and plucked me out, back into the world of light and color and pain, and spread me out gently on a smooth stone table among my friends.

I know there was more after that—more spiders, more spells; Nicholas cast a Death Spell and dropped a dozen bad guys; more running and fighting; and finally the manscorpion himself. Lord Mikhael finally dropped him with a Phantasmal Killer; really a lovely, wonderful spell, that. And there was an ettercap who had the prisoners we sought; and a temple with a floor of gold; a water elemental, and a cylindrical waterfall that fell five hundred feet into the Underdark. We argued for a long time about how to seal it off, but finally I guess we just went back to camp and turned it over to the high command. I got my share of the gold, and some kind of useless ring from Baf-mock's hoard—protection from demons or devils or something. As if I'm ever going to be dealing with creatures from the lower planes! We were given some time to relax while the high muckety-mucks considered the situation, and I went straight back to Glenzor.

I can't even begin to tell you how dreadful I feel about how all this turned out. Simon hasn't said one way or the other, but I would guess that he appreciated the thought, at least. But other than that, Daniel and Mikhael are the only ones who haven't scolded me for sheet stupidity, and I know they were exasperated with me too. I feel terrible for having disappointed them. They all think I'm terrifically inexperienced to have achieved the rank that I have, and after this little stunt, I am inclined to agree. I thought I was becoming a real adventurer, but I've never before faced foes of the sort that seem to be commonplace here on Glenzor. Perhaps it was foolish to have come back so soon—I'm not the dangerous man I wanted to be when I returned home to you and the family.

But it's too late to go back now; I'm not about to abandon these people just because they saw my most ignominious moment. They are the finest people I have ever adventured with; compared to some of the blind paladins, witless barbarians, and maniacal mages I have traveled with, they are true heroes. They may have their share of quirks, but they are all intelligent and efficient in their own way, and for all their bickering, they really take care of each other. Even me, and I think they only accepted me for your sake, or maybe for Sindaraen's or Simon's.

Mikhael is the kind of adventurer I always wanted to be someday—elegant, efficient, respected. He never seems to make mistakes, and even his various vices and his physical shortcomings never slow him down. Nicholas reminds me a little of Kemen. He's really grim and down-to-earth, but strong as a stone wall at your back. Like our brother, he can be fun to tease, but I'm always careful not to push him too far. Simon and Sindaraen are just like twin Draugs, except one's all talk and the other's all action. They both make sure that life is never dull. Callous and Danny are sort of like parents with a sense of humor. They attempt to keep us out of too much trouble, but don't try to stop us from having fun.

For the first time since you left home, I feel like I have something of a home and a family, and I'm going to do everything I can to regain their respect. In a way, I'm anxious for our next mission to begin so I can show them that I can do better. I don't care if it means going to the elven capital itself, or raiding the very forest where we were born and raised; these Glenzorians mean more to me than any elf ever did. I've already spent most of the gold I made of this adventure, shopping for gifts for them all since I got back to Glenzor. It's the least I can do to thank them for bringing me back and restoring my vigor—not to mention that shopping it the one infallible way to take my mind off of any sort of unpleasantness. In my most considered opinion, R and R was definitely meant to be taken in a city, not in some makeshift army camp!

However, most of the rest of the party is still back at Daniel's camp, ostensibly awaiting new orders, but mainly to see Sindaraen receives his military discipline. I could have told them that Sind wouldn't take well to being a soldier; in a way, I thought they might be kidding as they tallied up the number of lashes he earned each time he was insubordinate or disrespectful to Mikhael or Daniel. But they intend to carry out the sentence; in a couple of days, he will be receiving the first of a slated 240 lashes for not keeping a rein on his insolent tongue.

On the one hand, I agree that Sindaraen needs to be taught a lesson; I don't think he ever had anyone around to tell him there are limits to the ways you can treat people. On the other hand, I don't think I could stand to be present for the beating. It feels too much to me like they're punishing him for allowing me to be killed. Perhaps that's crazy, and I'm either vain or overly sensitive to be believing it, but I hope to be left out of it altogether anyway. I'd end up pleading for mercy for him, and no one would ever understand. They don't understand why I stay with Sindaraen anyway—I know he hasn't shown his best side to them. There really is a good man under there somewhere; he just doesn't know how to show it. I think maybe he's afraid to undermine this megalomaniac facade he's built for himself; I wish I understood what he's hiding from us behind all his bluster.

In all the years I was out there on my own, though, tentatively learning to take care of myself through trial and error, Sind was the only one who ever stopped to teach me a few things. He stuck by me for years, when every other adventurer we ever met abandoned us as soon as a more lucrative offer came along. And maybe he reminded me a little bit of home, and of you and Draug. He actually adventured with Draug once, you know—after Draug and I got separated when we left Glenzor. His path has crossed with the Telperins so many times that I sometimes can't help wondering if he isn't a lost Telperin himself. He says his father was a grey elf, and that's all he knows; who's to say it couldn't have happened?

Anyway, I had better cut this short before I really start to babble. I'll let you know when something interesting starts to happen again. You really will have to write me back soon, and tell me how your life is going. How are the children? What are their names, anyway? And are you still studying music? It's okay to make things up, you know. If you really are involved in the war, or something else you can't talk about, just tell me a pretty story like you used to tell me when I was little. I didn't think one could ever actually be lonely in Glenzor, but I miss you a great deal, big sister; I wish you were here.

Love always,

Lairunya