Dark Tidings #1 (Eberronloft)

Father,

Sometimes, I think I might actually send you some of my letters so that you can finally see what has become of your 'failure' of a son. Oh, how your face would undoubtedly sink into a mask of despair! Would it frighten you, seeing how much power I have managed to draw to myself? Would you cower in your fine linen sheets every night, fearful that your son might be on his way home at that very instant?

Worry not, 'dear' father. I have no intention of coming home, now or ever. I have a new life now, one with a great deal of money, and a great deal of freedom to do as I wish. Freedom from your meddling, and freedom from your ever-present disappointment. You cast me aside, father, and all because I didn't have as great a talent for wizardry as my other siblings do. In a very real sense, I do have you to thank for the path I have now chosen ... for if I could not master the magic that others excelled in creating, I would find a way to steal it from other sources. And so I have. I need not meet strive to meet your lofty expectations any longer, father. I have my own goals now.

The fools whose company I currently keep are not without their uses. The idiot changeling, though she irritates me with every word issuing forth from her mouth, is surprisingly competent when it comes to the art of thievery and deception. The House Cannith artificer, now fallen from his lofty seat among Sharn's nobility, still has a smattering of arcane power, enough to be helpful from time to time. The self-proclaimed druid is a strange one indeed, but he makes up for my lack of understanding of the healing arts with his powerful divine magics. He is, however, just as buffoonish in his day-to-day dealings, and seems to think highly of himself. How else to explain that massive bronze statue of himself, which follows him around in silent and eternal servitude! Arrogance, something I understand all too well. Some things you taught me, father, I will never forget.

We recently saved a House Medani noble's daughter from certain death at the hands of a madman. Baron Zelib d'Medani seemed to care far more about the fate of his precious silver statue than he did his daughter's life, and the poor girl was all too aware of her place. I felt a strange sort of kinship with Zelina, as my plight was once very similiar to her own.

I too was made aware of my importance to you. My place was not first in your life, oh no ... my siblings managed to take that position from me by excelling at magic. Nor was I even what you would call a distant second, for your petty life of nobility was far more important to you than your own son could ever hope to be.

Thus, when the time for a reward came, I refused to accept it. Perhaps it was foolish of me, or even what I might normally consider weakness, but seeing the understanding and the bitterness in Zelina's eyes as she greeted her father ... it was so unbearably familiar. In the unlikely event that I ever see her again, I have resolved to tell her -- tell her what? That I understand? Such a sentiment would no doubt be more offensive, more trite, than anything rude I may have uttered during our last encounter. No, she would not take well to such pathetic attempts at kindness. Truly, did I believe I could somehow befriend this girl? That she alone, among the few people I have met during this abysmal tenure in Sharn, would choose to speak to me freely? As kindred spirits? A ridiculous notion. I am alone here, and I need not the company of friends to make my way in the world.

Yes, this letter, too, is destined for the fire in front of my chair. Were you to read it, father, you would probably shake with laughter upon reading of my near-weakness. I am strong, and someday you will hear of my exploits even in far-off Aundaire. Would you dare to come crawling to my door? Time will tell, indeed.

-=- Urik Tharsival -=-