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[Skylocke]

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There is a simple piece of parchment tacked onto the bank, almost lost amidst the more colorful flyers and papers. The penmanship appears to be inexperienced, and the ink of a low-quality grade, as is the parchment itself. There are several spots where the writing is a bit smudged, as if something wet dripped on it. It reads:


"Forgive me, for I am not as good with stringing words together as my father. I will try to keep this short, as this is not a biography; just a farewell from a son to his father.

I am not rich. What I own is what I carry on my person. What I keep sacred, I keep in my heart. I cannot command great halls, nor do I have a king's ear to whisper into. I don't have the ability to order armies, nor the arcane prowess to bend the ether. Far from my grasp are the abilities to conjur the elements, raise the dead (if I had, this rememberance wouldn't exist!), and mould the shadows. My prowess with a blade is as ineffectual as my skill with hammer and tongs. All I have are my memories. My memories of my father.

My father had lived in Moonglow most of his life, and had often professed his love for the great island nation. However, he had originally hailed from the humble working town of Minoc. It was there that, at a bit younger than my own current age, he had fallen in love with a blacksmith's daughter. They eloped, leaving behind them the mines, sweat, and hardwork that characterizes Minoc, and left for Moonglow. The militia was recruiting, and my father saw an opportunity to prove himself and be part of something greater than himself (which is saying a lot considering how much he loved himself at the time). My father and his wife (I say this for she is not my mother) lived happily in a small shack on the isle and trained diligently. They had sworn their fealty to the island nation, and dedicated their ever-growing martial skills to keeping peace there. I have heard great many tales of my father. A number of people have, I am sure. He fought the orcs, led by Grishnak, in a great number of skirmishes and battles. He battled tirelessly against the Regency during the battle of Stonegate. He warred to bitter ends against the Order of the Ebon Skull. In his life, he had fought many foes, conquered lands, created an army, and destroyed many others. I could go on, but you might accuse me of hero worship. This is not the case, as there are a great many things which my father had done which are not to be commended. He had swooped in to sack as many towns as he had ridden out to save. He had betrayed dear friends. He had lost himself on more than one occasion in tankards of ale. He even at one point became addicted to some nefarious substance which hailed from Umbra. But in spite of the heroics and dastardly acts, he was just a man; one who had lost everything in the end.

I remember my father's cabin, nestled away in the far south-west corner of Moonglow. That is where he lived with my mother until their end days. It sat on the coast, and had been the center for many joyful memories that I keep cherished even now. My mother was beautiful, and smart, and I have no difficulty figuring out why my father loved her. I know he had a reputation for being quick with a smile and a wink, but once he found my mother, he changed. When she was gone, he was wounded far worse than in any battle he had ever been in. The house was empty without her. He was empty without her.

With him gone, and the cabin as well, I am on my own. My father did not prepare me for this world. He did not teach me how to fight, though he had been regarded as one of the strongest fighters. He did not teach me about history, though he had been part of much of it. He did not teach me any practical skills of survival, though he had honed his own over the years. But I can not put blame on him. He did not teach me because he did not want me to follow his path. Although there was much glory on my father's path, there was tremendous sadness and despair that often threatened to consume him whole. I have only heard whispered rumors regarding some of the things that my father had done in despair, and if even half of them are true, then I can feel nothing but pity and remorse for him as a man.

He did leave me with some advice. If I ever need a dedicated friend, I can seek out a man named Tai Kwan Leap. If I ever need a good story or song, I can seek out someone by the moniker Silent Poet. If I ever need some of the best equipment ever crafted, I can seek out Tatiana Alexi. I know not who these people are, but they must have meant a great deal to my father to remember them so fondly even after he had forsaken everyone else.

My father was a lonely man before his end. He had sent me away for the basics of education in the Lycaeum in Moonglow. I was not there when the fire claimed his cabin. I was not there when my father did not leave the cabin. I know not for sure if he tried to leave, but I heard rumor from those neighboring his property that they only saw him walk into his cellar and did not see him walk back up before the fire. He had a large wine cellar.

Nothing was left of the cabin when I recieved the news. I sifted through the debris, but there was nothing left to claim. A new house had been built rather quickly in its place, and the last time I went to that spot, I wrote this rememberance. Father... Dad, I just hope you know that for all of your accomplishments, I commend you. For all of your sins, I forgive you. You are my father, and I love you.

Rest in peace Galathan of Moonglow, formerly of Minoc.


-Skylocke"
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Sometimes you must lose yourself before you can find yourself.