Adventure: Sheep’s Clothing
Sessions: 2006-10-30, 2006-11-04
Player: Daniel Thai
PC: Tuiluilan
Status: Fighter 2

Dear Father,

Thank you again for preparing the weapon I mentioned previously. Also, thank you for not chastising me overly much for my behavior. First of all, you’re probably wondering why I’m writing on paper, rather than the significantly cheaper parchment I normally write on. Would you believe that I got it from Councilor Raidith’s house in Sharn? Well, another, adventure happened.

OK, first thing I should mention is that I got along reasonably well with the other adventurers, especially Alain. He’s a fellow fighter, seems to get along reasonably well with the other people, and serves as the leader at times, although I have a strong personality too. Anyway, it all came down to slightly after I sent you the last note. Xame, the coward who stole the torch—you remember the last letter—decided that he wanted a fair share. I gave him all the money I had left after paying you just to make him go away. Alain was most helpful in convincing him that he would be better off elsewhere. Eventually, Mike, the raptoran, gave him 300 pieces of gold, and he went away. Good riddance, I say. I can’t communicate to you how much he and I clashed—both over morality and taste. He had poor taste, especially when it came to rat stew. But I digress.

Anyway, eventually, we had to figure out why some treaty (and they never did tell me which one, or what it was about), was going to be passed. It was between Breland and the house of Cannith. Some guy decided to change his vote with no explanation. Through various spells and interesting diplomacy, we found out that Lord Raidith’s bodyguard had had something to do with a house Cannith official’s death. Eventually, through more intrigue, we ran into a wererat and I struck him a blow that I’m sure he remembered. The thing about wererats is that they have thick skin, but I managed to get lucky. Mike, the raptoran—he kept the wererat safely underneath him. I also remember squashing a rat against the wall with one of my ends of my quarterblade—although I forget which one it was. Anyway, we eventually figured out that he was planning to use wands that eliminate magical auras from magical… things, I guess. I don’t know. Anyway, those who did know about magical things, and I myself, found this serious.

After that, Lord Raidith decided to invite us for dinner, a most unfriendly visit, you can be sure. I decided to talk it over with Alain, who seemed strangely argumentative. I wanted to plan for every detail, while he decided that he was going to only plan for one thing—a standard double cross. However, we did acquire two warforged as reinforcements, should we need them—courtesy of the baron of the house of Cannith—by whose grace Raidith was a councilor.

I wish I could regale Mom with the tale of a battle, but unfortunately, I spent most of it in a stupor. After having gotten into the house (and helped myself to some of Lord Raidith’s paper), I rushed into the room and saw Raidith. As he informed us that he wished that we would could commit suicide, I readied an attack. But before I could attack, his ally saw fit to blast me with a spray of colors. At first I thought they were so pretty, but soon I realized that I couldn’t see anything except a swirling mass of color. Blues and reds sparkling before my eyes in a sea of… something. The next thing I felt was someone slapping me awake. I still was petty groggy, and I couldn’t move, but I could tell that it was a small hand. A halfling’s hand. Then, later, it seemed to lift somewhat, and I heard another halfling voice say something about a musclehead. He only used that word to refer to Alain and me, and I don’t think it was Alain. Anyway, eventually I came to, only to find out that the battle was over, and that I had an aching wound in my side.

He, our adversary that is, was smiling. He was looking at Antinua like she was his long-lost sister or something. Now, he wasn’t fighting, and there were 8 of us to 1 of him, so I wanted to grab him then and there. But strangely, no one else seemed to agree with me. Even Alain, who had seemed reasonably straight forward and decisive didn’t want to. So instead, we posted a guard, and waited for massive reinforcements from the Sharn watch. But, predictably, he disappeared before we could lay hands—or wings in Mike’s case—on him. Oh well. We were treated to a royal feast, and I got a brand new set of shining armor. Magical armor, even. Mom would be so jealous that she doesn’t have one. Anyway, that’s it for this note. I hope this letter finds you all in good health, and may the Sovereign Host watch over you.

Your Loyal Son,


P.S. Beware rat stew.

Player’s Notes

This is the last post of Tui because he died in the next adventure.