Vigilant Eugene, I am but a humble commoner, born in the mire that comprises Lower Sanctuary. It was by the grace of the Gods that I was able to learn my letters, and even this simple thing was hard-fought.
I have not lived a life of excess, sentry Castile. My life has yet been one of survival and constant want.
Yet excess, watchful Castile, has affected me most terribly. It was, I firmly believe, magical excess that took the life of my beloved mother in the terrible burning of the Comely Inn.
I saw her horrid and deformed features as she wreathed ignobly in the streets. The sight has never left me. It never will.
I am a simple peasent, Eugene Castile. Yet I am a creature of bound determination. It was excess that destroyed my mother, and it is this excess that I have determined I must work against.
You are a priest of Mystra, Eugene Castile. You are a knightly sort, a figure of respect. I see in you much.
I am a wretched figure. Yet I am not without my graces. I am driven, Eugene Castile. I am a survivor, one determined to rectify the terrible fate of my mother.
I wish to aid you, Eugene Castile. I would meet with you, as your doubtless busy schedule would permit.
Adelia Brackish