To my Honored Masters may the light fall upon your efforts, but not too well!
Our last fight was nearly my last as a hulking brute of a slaver did almost hammer me flat with a weapon which you must forgive me if I cannot recall clearly. I came to myself in a crude cell amonst other captives who had awoken me with a powerful healing draught which had recalled me from Death’s very doorstep. The slavers sorely underestimated me though because they had not taken my weapons or gear from me and I was able to loose a powerful Fae Magic-wielder who had been imprisoned as well. The Fae turned the tables upon our captors and with aid from my other companions brought them low. At my behest we cease to pursue the cleric of Tal-Sherit as the time was drawing near to the ceremony of the demon-slaves and I was most uneasy to leave the townsfolk to fend for themselves. This course showed it’s wisdom when six of the townfolk went missing and the town-guard could find no trace of them, as I write these words we have bested a montrous beast of blood and bone shaped like a minotaur, oddly enough excepting the fight with the slavers all of our last combats have been against such beasts. Why do the gods delight in testing us against such uncouth creatures?