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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Rabelais" data-source="post: 1423188" data-attributes="member: 2969">RomanceI'm currently playing in a campaign that's featured a romantic relationship between Elven nobles.  As "homework" I've worked up a bunch of in character love letters to my wife.  It's played a significant role in drawing out the relationships between PC's and the NPC's of my GM's world. My game group is half female, so I've been able to share my letters without the standard "Dude, this is so GAAAAYYYYYY" stuff.  It's worked out pretty well.And since you asked... <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f609.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=";)" title="Wink    ;)"  data-smilie="2"data-shortname=";)" />My Beloved Mademoiselle,    It has been several weeks since I have allowed myself the luxury of writing to you.  A luxury because the Jungle is a jealous mistress that allows no thoughts save for herself.  Surviving the jungle has been my sole occupation.  To while the time away I imagine my next composition, to perfect my words to do justice to the emotion I feel so constantly when I am away from you.  I have written these letters in my mind so many times, I have but to remember, and write them down.  I commit my heart’s feelings to paper and the jungle seems less gloomy and the dangers more endurable.  These feelings are keenly felt when I allow myself to dwell upon them.  They make for pleasant companions.         Your letter to me was like water for a parched soul.  That my feelings are reciprocated fills me with a joy I can scarcely describe.  My companions must think me a besotted fool since reading your letter.  I have but to show them the locket that you sent to me for them to understand just a small portion of the reason why I love you.  Your beauty amazes me.  I have but to look at your picture and remember the delicacy of your touch.  I can close my eyes and imagine your laugh like that of spun glass.  You are a cool breeze on my skin, a rain shower after a drought.  I long to be in your presence again.Thank you for your offer to look into the matter of my brother.  Aside from you there are no people closer to my heart than my siblings.  You would be doing me a great service if you could keep an eye on my younger brother and sister.  I would not be able to bear it if they were to come to some harm from one of my enemies seeking to strike at what I hold dear.  This holds doubly true when it comes to you my love.  I know how capable you are of taking care of yourself, but I still worry for you.  I thank Tymora that you were able to evade Reynard’s clutches.  Abou Benishak has been a good friend to the Realmwalkers, I’m thankful that his beneficence extends to loved ones.  If you ever need an extra set of eyes and ears in Suzail I would suggest contacting Quinn.  He is a good friend, and capable of fitting in places where a fluffy headed young Marquise dare not tread.         Our travels in Chult go very well.  Your letter reached me at the base of Pele, the great mountain of Chult.  You may remember from my last letter that our guide had taken a melancholy turn after visiting the Amazon village.  Shortly before we reached Pele I discovered why.  Our guide learned that lizard men had kidnapped a young girl from the village during a raid.  It was not unusual for this tribe to kidnap children as a sacrifice to their god.  They worshipped a shadow creature in the form of a great green dragon.  With great effort Moondrake was able to pierce the illusion surrounding the shadow-creature.  With its illusion dispelled, the creature was destroyed easily, and the child rescued.  We investigated the lair of the creature only to discover who the true master of the area was, an enormous Red Dragon by the name of Abraxus.   I have faced no creature more terrible than Abraxus.  The gigantic beast was a combination of lethal intelligence and primal wrath.         The battle itself is but a blur in my mind.  Ulfgar managed to trap the creature by embedding it in living rock.  If he had not created that simple trap the dragon would have swept us away like so many tin soldiers.  Once again he has proven himself a hero.  I can only confess that I was afraid.  I have faced the Dragon, and I have stared into its teeth, I have been innocent of true fear.  I am no longer innocent of it.  I can take solace in the fact that I survive, that I faced my fear and was not broken by it.  Victory was never sweeter, but the fire is something that will haunt me in my dreams until the day I die.  The Dragon wields a weapon that is alive. There’s no way to describe the terror of being enveloped in Dragon breath.  The flame is a liquid rush of fury.  The flame is anger and it is malice.  The flame is hateful and it consumes.  I will take the memory of being swallowed by it to my grave.           The battle was frightening and terrible, and it was only through our faith in each other and in ourselves that we emerged with our lives.  I have no wish to worry you with grisly tales of battle and hardship, forgive me.  There are better stories to tell.  Let the bards sing of great deeds.  Let me share a happier moment.         I have heard stories about the wealth concealed in dragon lairs, great beasts asleep on vast piles of gold and gems.  This could not have been farther from reality.  Abraxus’ lair resembles a museum more than anything else.  There were priceless paintings by the great masters of antiquity.  There were statues and jewelry, as well as ancient pieces of Dwarven armor.  A young Elven slave named Lorelei kept the dragon’s lair immaculately clean.  She may be the most remarkable recovery from the entire lair.  She remembers nothing of her old life, or where she is from.  She has every appearance of being under some sort of enchantment but neither Moondrake nor I can detect any magical effect about her.  She is very tall and slender, Regal in carriage, approximately 100 years old, but she strikes me as being a great deal older than that.  Her eyes are like that of a storm; they flow from blue to gray and back again.  It is not a trait of any of the Elven royal families I am aware of, but it still tickles the back of my mind like something in a story read long ago.  Amusingly, she seems to have taken a shine to Moondrake.  Amity conceals her pique from no one, but denies it strenuously nonetheless.  It reminds me of some petty court intrigue, it is strangely comforting; it makes me a tad homesick.         From here we intend to travel along the path to the summit.  Pele is an active volcano, but apparently the gateway to our destination lies within the caldera.  If it is anything like the other gateways I anticipate a large, impossibly sturdy, ornately designed door.  If nothing else these last two years, I have become a connoisseur of Dwarven architecture.  We have had no sight or sign of the Drow along our path to Pele.  I can only assume that they are far behind us.  I hope that we can discover the solution to this puzzle and move on to our next destination.          We have moved the Dragon’s treasure into a small chamber near the entrance to the Dragon’s lair.  Our guide Jost will seek out the beast of burden we recently set free to see if we can move some of these statues to Mesro to be shipped to the Realmwalkers’ villa in Blazingdell.  I agree the White Riders are remarkable.  It makes me wonder what we did without them.       I am afraid that this beautiful interlude must end.  Jost holds the carrier falcon as we speak.  I must bid you adieu for now.  I love you; your love for me sustains me.  I shall write to you as soon as is possible.  Until then you shall dwell in my heart.I remain your most ob’t svn’t,K</blockquote>

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