Sterling Truesilver sits alone in a rented apartment in a foreign land, perched upon the edge of his bed staring listlessly at a blank sheet of parchment spread out on the table across the room. His eyes wander down the table from the empty page towards his new copper pot-helm, already showing signs of wear and bearing several nasty looking dents. The dwarf puts his chin into his hands and sighs.
"I was just positive that writin' home would be easier 'an all this," he grumbles to himself, "but 'ere I am, just stewin' in my own discontent. I don't have anything to tell them 'cept that I ain't yet dead." Glumly he stares at his dented helmet. "....yet...." he repeats, closing his eyes.
"Oi! What am I doin'? This is foolish" he exclaims a moment later, hopping off of the bed and slipping his room key into his pocket as he exits the room and locks the door behind himself. "I need a good ol' nighttime stroll."
After slipping out of the cramped inn, the world seems much brighter to Sterling as he makes his way down the alien streets of the town of Hlint. Walking here without his armor, as a simple dwarven man rather than a dwarven warrior, has a somewhat therapeutic effect on the pudgy little fellow. Soon, he finds himself smiling and whistling as he walks, hands in his pockets and eyes in the sky. His gaze follows the secret paths between the stars, the little roads that connect them into the constellations familiar to all, and his thoughts turn towards his old god, Deliar, the Merchant of Fate.
"Why, of course I got somethin' to write home about! I'm finally on the road again! An' I'm havin' a much more eventful journey than I e'er did as a peddler. I'm walkin' this new path o' mine with the Wind of Destiny blowin' at my back, and so far 'e seems to 'ave forgiven my past transgressions and blessed me with no small measure of success. Why, I've got a purse full o' coin that I most certainly didn't 'ave before comin' here and a new suit o' armor and set of fresh experiences to boot!"
Hurrying back to his room at the Wild Surge, Sterling hastily puts his quill to paper.
Dearest Friends,
Greetings to all from across the sea! I arrived here upon the continent of Mistone but a week or so ago and at first I took it to be a queer place indeed. After meeting several rather bizarre travelers, sinister masked folk and a kindly but terrifyingly sized blue man, I chanced upon another dwarf going by the name of Chunks. The name suits him well, for he is even fatter than I, believe it or not!
This fellow helped to get me on my feet and I shall always be grateful to him for this kind service. He helped show me the ropes and polish my rusty fighting skills a bit. Alongside him I managed to gather quite a few coins and a greater degree of comfort with my axe! We also went drinking together, not in the way that I drank alone and bitter in the past, but as cheerful and spirited comrades.
The Merchant of Fate certainly has dealt with me generously as of late, and I find myself not entirely unhappy with the path of a warrior that I once feared for it puts my boots on the road once again and allows me to taste once more the riches that an adventurous life has to offer. I pray that you are all doing well back in good old Mariner's Hold and my heart shall always be with you.
Yours truly,
Sterling Truesilver
His letter finished, the dwarf folds the parchment and takes off his boots, slipping into bed. Tossing and turning this way and that for several minutes, Sterling eventually slips out of bed and trundles outside barefoot.
He stares for a good quarter hour into the stars once more, muttering his first truly heartfelt prayer to Deliar in years, "Thank ya' o' kind little god for settin' me out on this path once more. Perhaps someday I shall be able to do away wit' the sour grapes o' my past an' allow the best o' my memories to ferment into the sweet wine of your favor once more." With that, the dwarf returns indoors and promptly falls asleep.
