As dictated en route from Poloma to Remas
My name is Hern Kuskovich Ryev. You may call me Hern Kuskovich Ryev for now – that is how things are done where I am from. I am a man born of Kislev; I hail from the city of Erengrad. For the majority of my life, I’ve known only the sea. My father was a sailor, making his living upon the Sea of Claws until he found his end down the gullet of a terrible creature of the seas. We know little about his end. What we do know was told to us by a maddened sailor, found adrift upon the bowsprit of my father’s ship after several weeks at sea. He told a tale of a creature laid out with an impossible number of razor-sharp fins, and a maw that seemed wider than the sea itself.
After my father’s passing, it was to my sister and I to take up his slack. My sister joined my mother in the marketplace, toiling among the fishwives. I took up the oars of the family’s boat, shuttling passengers and small cargoes across the harbor mouth. For two years I labored, every day turning my oars and bracing my back against the waves and tide.
However, as the days passed, I grew weary of the scents and sights of the harbor – I decided to seek my glory upon the open seas. I knew that there was more of a life to be had upon the waves of the open sea than I could ever make for myself navigating the harbor mouth. I left my mother and sister with the promise that I would see them again when I was a man of the world – and I set out to find a ship that would have me on.
The only ship that would take me bore a cargo of furs, bound for Remas. Having never even left the city limits, a place such as Remas – heralded by my father as a city of innumerable sights and curiosities – seemed a fantastic destination. I signed on as a cabin boy, sold our family rowboat, and boarded ship for what I thought would be the first of a lifetime of voyages.
However, a life at sea was not all that romantics represent it to be. The hardships of adventure – poor food, adverse sleeping conditions, vermin – were not balanced by the excitement I had hoped. I spent endless days merely hauling ropes and watching the waters heave, praying that the winds would bring me to Remas with haste. When finally I arrived at port, I was taken with awe. The port of Remas dwarfed even mighty Erengrad, and I knew then that I could never go back. I gave word with the captain of my vessel that I would not be making the return trip, and I strolled out into the unfathomably large city of Remas.
After much wandering, I managed to find an adventurer’s inn. Looking around for a group to join, I came upon a group that looked similar in dress and experience to my own. I convinced their number that I would be worthy to join their ranks, and set off into the wilds. Having never seen such a fertile and wild place to compare with the outskirts of Remas and the Tillian countryside, the next few days of travel were beset by wonder and went quickly. The final day of our outbound journey, however, I will never forget.
Our original goal was the claiming of the bounty on a bandit chief in the area. Our source had made it known to us that the bandit leader would be accompanied by five to six guards. However, our source was wrong; close to fifty bandits poured out of their hideout. Three of our number did not survive the battle. I myself do not know how I did so myself. It was my first time locked in mortal combat, and I feared that I would find myself greatly wanting. There were times where at one point, all I saw was the merciless swing of countless enemies, and the next thing I remember clearly is being to their fore, continuing my offensive anew. I thank Mannan for my survival in this battle, as I am convinced that only his direct intervention kept me from the grave.
Having carried our spoils back to Remas, I spent the next several months rowing boats in the harbor to pay for my livelihood. We then took a long, uneventful caravan trip whose destination was Plasota. The countryside had lost much of its beauty, having now seen it as a backdrop for the death of my comrades and the terrifying paralysis of battle. We spent several days wandering Plasota, surviving on what little gold we had until Cira found us birth within your ranks.
Judging by the equipment you have handed me down, the amount of gold you possess, and your handling of a raging pack of bandits, I am fortunate indeed to have found my way into your care. I feel that if I survive even one battle among you, I will be much better-equipped to handle the harshness that is the life of an adventurer.