Rava Kilafin is my name, and I serve under the auspices of Isabel Wolgoth. I have nothing but respect for her ladyship. She found me in a alley with the blight, and due to her deep pockets, she was able to heal me. Never did she try to take away the ancestral blades on my belt, nor dig into my coin purse. In the Underdark, such travesties are quite ordinary, and I suspect topside as well.

Mostly I do runs for her while she rests in a condemned abby in Neverdeath, stacking up our coffers with plat. “Where in this together,” she promised me, “through the thick an the thin.” I believed it because her eyes, those damned saucer-like eyes can really rivet a point home.

When I’m not killing the minions of dragons in dungeons, I’m checking in down at the shop in town. Our shop is struggling in…