My beloved friend,
Greetings from Red Larch! I apologize in advance for the brevity of this letter—it grows late and my companions intend to set off at daybreak tomorrow, so I must not oversleep! Haha—I’m sure you’re remembering the several (ok, many) times you arrived at my uncle’s house to pick me up, only to find me fast asleep. And in spite of that, how gently you would wake me, how patient and unflustered you were as I rushed to get ready. Truly, it is through such quiet gestures of tenderness, as much as overt expressions of affection, that you won my heart and knit it to yours forever.
This is my second attempt to write—the mosquitos and gnats (yes, imagine, at this time of the year!) where we camped last night made it quite impossible for me to get beyond sharing this happy news: our kind, quirky companion is restored! Yes, Travis is back, magically made whole again by his mentor at the Pansophical, an accomplished arcanist named Allura Vysoren. I know that you distrust the Pansophical’s “will to knowledge,” as you put it, but Travis’s friends there seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. With Allura’s blessings, two of Travis’s colleagues, Ari and Falco, now travel with us; they are both highly competent magic-users and have already proved to be tremendous assets.
Try as I might, it seems I cannot write you a short letter. I miss you so much that my quill can hardly keep up with my overflowing heart! And yet tonight I must be concise. After we leave Red Larch, it may be a while before I can send you a written letter again.
To turn to my main purpose: Caedmon, various experiences in recent months have convinced me that there are larger forces threatening Arklan now. Destructive forces, on a scale hitherto unimaginable, are about to sweep across the land—perhaps they have already begun to do so. I’ve told you about the bizarre weather phenomena we’ve traveled through (mosquitos in Auril!), and you may remember the falling stars and mobilizing orc armies that I’ve mentioned in previous letters. It’s not clear to me whether this threat is political or caused by some kind of extraplanar disturbance, but it’s increasingly apparent that its impact will be widely felt before long. Even the isolated Genasi Village I described to you in my last letter is not exempt from the drastic shifts in weather patterns, and Dranseri itself is on edge. Talking with Allura and her allies has only served to confirm my fears that our entire world could soon be plunged into a state of widespread strife.
Canny and streetwise as you are, none of this is likely to surprise you—the wisdom you distill from talking to people at your different performance venues never ceases to amaze me. But what of this? Even if my presentiments are correct, what could we do? To be honest (not that I’ve ever succeeded in lying to you!), I don’t know. What I do know is this: we would be better off facing this crisis together. For this reason, Caedmon, I beg you: let me come to you, or better yet, unite with me by joining the party of brave friends who’ve accompanied me on my Aramentè thus far.
I can imagine how abrupt, how peculiar my appeal must sound—perhaps even paranoid or hysterical. But if I can count on anyone to believe me, it is you. During my troubled adolescence, when my limited control over my water magic caused all kinds of mishaps that I struggled to explain, you alone never doubted my word (or my sanity). Though it is hard adequately to describe the magnitude of the current problem, I trust your faith in me will not falter now.
Though my heart leaps at the prospect of seeing you again, and hopefully soon, believe me, Caedmon, it brings me no joy to share this grave news. I know how hard you and your fellow-musicians have been working to prepare for this latest series of performances, and hate to disrupt your work—your art—in this manner. You know that I love you too well to cause you such pain without good cause.
I used to think that I would die rather than place you in the dangerous situations in which our party often finds itself (and given the current state of the realm, we will probably face even greater perils in the near future). Now, however, I recognize that nowhere—and no-one—is safe until the destructive forces threatening the land are contained. My greatest fear is that something should happen to you if Emorhin is taken unawares. Admittedly, our being together is no guarantee of your safety, but at least I would have some hope of protecting you.
How you must smile at your little Tealet proposing to guard you against danger—how presumptuous of me! You have been my protector all my life, and I still think of you as the one person who somehow can always make everything better for me. And yet, by some twist of fate, the last two-and-a-half years have thrown me into company and situations that have—perhaps against my own inclinations—compelled me to hone my abilities for battle. For once I find myself in a position to defend those I love, and I mean to make use of it. Of course, I know you are far from helpless and quite capable of taking care of yourself in a fight. But the approaching crisis looms so large and is so fraught with uncertainty that I believe that our best chance of survival lies in weathering the storm—literal and figurative—together.
I don’t pretend to have the answers, Caedmon. I’m scared, and I know my emotions speak as loudly as my reason tonight. But if there were ever a time to err on the side of caution, it is now. At worst, even if there were no way to avert the fate of the realm, we would at least have spent our final days together. But I pray that this is not so, and that by uniting in a time of great need, we might help sustain each other through this crisis.
Of course, we should decide on the best course of action together, so let’s figure out a plan by means of your magical messages. I eagerly await your thoughts on this subject.
Until then, I remain
Affectionately yours,
Teal
UNOMAHA D&D 