Dear Mother,
I've finally made it back to the mainland. As "fun" as Chult was, it feels good to be back in Astea. The rest of the party ended up joining the Captain's Crew. They are now sailing off to somewhere hopefully far away from here. While I WAS offered a spot on the crew, I lied about appreciating the offer and said that I'd rather keep my feed on solid ground. The Captain shook my hand, called me a slippery little lizardfolk, and we wished each other a speedy death. Saphira is doing well at least. She's about as tall as me now, despite only being a year and a half old. Won't be long before she's big enough to squish me underfoot. With everything that's happened, I don't think I would've made it back here with my sanity intact if not for her. In these days, where it's hard to even get up in the morning, having someone you care about at your side really helps. If there was one good thing that came from being in exile all these years, it was finding her. I'll have to tell you guys that tale one of these days.
Anyways, after we watched Captain's ship sail off, we picked up some supplies and decided to head towards a mountainous region somewhat close by. We heard tell of a town up there that was specifically dedicated to training new adventurers. I was still a fresh rookie when I was separated from you all and I had gotten rusty throughout the years so I figured if I wanted to truly get better at this, and avoid a repeat of Chult, I needed to go there and learn all I could. Plus, I still don't know everything about how a Drakewarden soulbond works, so if I found anything to help increase Saphira's power as well, all the better. Luckily, the place wasn't that hard to find.
This city is amazing to behold. The whole place is built into the mountains, with the Adventurers' Guild Hall built right into a sheer cliffside. Rope bridges and lifts connect the different peaks and districts. I wouldn't be surprised if this place was some kind of secluded mining colony before The Guild took over. And best of all, they ACTUALLY let me in! I know I'm a kobold who always has his hood up but you'd be surprised how many times I've had spears shoved in my face just for asking for the time. After exploring the town for a bit, I managed to get a room at the Guild Hall, and what happened next is absolutely boggling my mind.
Once I'd gotten settled, the first thing I wanted to do was get information on you guys. I remembered that our party was officially registered with, at least, AN Adventurers' Guild, so I figured it couldn't hurt to ask this one if they had any records on us. However, what they gave me instead was a deal. They would give me some info in exchange for, a favor. You see, the way the train new adventurers here, is they have a small group of rookies teamed up with one or two more experienced adventurers to act as chaperones. Four new adventurers had also arrived around the same time I did, and they wanted ME to be one of their chaperones. ME! Now, if I was a more qualified individual, I would've graciously accepted the honor and treated it as a learning experience for both me and the rookies. However, there's one teeny tiny problem with that. I'M STILL A ROOKIE!
I will remind you. I have been on a grand total of two jobs since becoming an adventurer. My first mission with The Argonauts that ended in complete disaster, followed by six years of downtime, and then the expedition to Chult, which was also a complete disaster. Not to mention that at this point I'd only been in town for a few days. What in The Underdark made them think that I was even close to qualified to do this? After meeting the other chaperone, as well as the other rookies, my only theories are that the people running this place are just really incompetent, or they're hurting for new adventurers just that much. Speaking of, oh yeah, my new team. I almost wish I was back on the boat.
My co-chaperone is a large half-orc named Rost. He's something called a Bloodhunter. I'm not exactly sure what it is bloodhunters do but considering he can set his sword on fire by slitting his wrists, I'm guessing it's pretty metal. The main problem is the only reason he's here is because he is currently banned from leaving the country. Apparently in a previous adventure, he had committed a crime so heinous that even he won't say what it was. While being partnered up with a registered convict is slightly disconcerting, considering I just finished an assignment with a pirate captain and dwarf who melted an entire stadium full of people, I really don't have any right to judge.
As for the rookies, first on the docket is Sam. She is an eight-foot tall, female, minotaur druid. Yes the giant, monstrous minotaur who's built like a damn tarrasque is named… Sam. I'm not even mad. I don't have much to say about her really. She keeps to herself mostly and doesn't really add to the conversation much. Saphira seems to like her at least. My only real problem with her is her insistence on making "short jokes" whenever I'm in the room. Yes, I'm a kobold. Yes, I'm three and a half feet tall. I get it. And they're not even good short jokes either. I've heard school children come up with better insults. Whatever, I'm rambling. Let's move on.
Next up is a half-elf bard. He's a strange one. For one thing, I don't know what language his name is but it sure as hell isn't Elvish. I'm fluent in Elvish and I can't pronounce his name for shit. None of us can, so we've just all decided to call him Big T. Big T is also, a fucking moron. It had only been a day since we'd been assigned together when he just up and left without a word. We spent about an hour running around trying to find the oaf before we heard screaming. We ran to the source only to find him trapped in mid-air between two portals, falling eternally. Apparently, he had just woken up that morning, looked at his bagpipes, and thought, "I'm going to find a funeral to play at! I see no possible way this could go wrong!" Unfortunately, the only one happening that day was for a recently past feyfolk matriarch. Pixies. Eventually, after I apologized profusely for my teammate's actions, they decided he'd had enough and let him splat onto the ground in a battered heap. I walked over to him. Sam was about to cast a healing spell, but I told her to hold off for a second.
"Before we heal you, what did we learn?"
He slowly lifted his head, "Don't offend the feyfolk with bagpipes."
I began prepping cure wounds, "Very good."
Then there is Sir Becket, or as we have all started to call him, Sir Bucket. He's… weird. He is a cleric, but I can't pin down which god he actually worships. He never talks, except to quote passages from his holy book in a language I don't understand. There is close to no rhyme or reason behind any of his actions. Sometimes you can see the logic, but it's as if he just doesn't think things through in the slightest. Maybe it has something to do with the lack of a physical brain. Oh yeah, just a small thing, he's literally a spirit trapped in a suit of armor. Yeah, I don't really know how it works either. I could ask but again he doesn't speak any language I know. He seems to understand common well enough though. Looks like I'm three for three on meeting religious weirdos.
Becket seems to at least made one friend in our little group of expendables. Our final member is a mighty warforged name Centurion. He's a tinkerer of sorts. He's always working on one little gadget or gizmo, throwing away what doesn't work and affixing whatever does onto his body, I can't tell if he's repairing or upgrading himself. I also have no idea what drives him either. He has no master so far as I can tell. I can't ask either because he just plain doesn't talk at all. But weirdly enough, he's also one of the more emotive warforged I've seen. There's an artificer shop in town. Working there is a diligent little autognome named Chavelle, and she has an ENORMOUS crush on Centurion, and weirdly enough, he seems to be… reciprocating? It's hard to tell, but this easily has to be simultaneously the most adorable, and most frightening love story I have ever seen in my life.
There were a few other shenanigans as we waited on our first assignment. Bucket spent a good three hours just standing outside a blacksmith shop, just kind of staring longingly at the suits of armor he could see from the outside. We had to literally drag him away before the smith turned him to scrap. Both Bucket and Centurion ended up kidnapping me and dragging me to the Artificer shop to buy magic stones for them. That's actually when we all met the autognome Chavelle the first time. And there was a little bit of a looping conversation when the guild informed us that by the end of the week, we needed an official group name so we could be registered. We still haven't agreed on one.
We go out on our first assignment tomorrow. It's a training mission. Apparently, they breed monsters down in the old mining tunnels under the city for adventurers to fight and train against. It will be our turn to head down there and prove or worth. Time to see if we're at least good at fighting as a team. I don't know if I'm ready to be a leader, but I at least have to try. Wish me luck, I have a feeling I'll need it.
Love, Your son, Fessiiv.
P.S. Tell Auntie Silva I still have that storybook she gave me. Saphira has been really enjoying it.