I don't rightly know how many sunsets have come and gone since the accursed Drow took me or since I escaped them, and thanks to their sadistic whims, I have no real manner in which to ask the date. I am not certain I truly wish to know.

After the days, weeks, or months- I don't rightly know- stumbling through the long darkness, I have chanced upon a settlement of escaped slaves called Sanctuary. To my delight many of the comforts of the world above could be found, including decent clothing, a fine rapier, and to my delight, a lute. A crude one, to be sure, but its sound did my heart well.

Nearly upon arriving, I joined an expedition to the north shore of an underground sea, in hopes of finding some clue of Maddy's whereabouts. Instead, my companions and I found battle against a horde of vile undead. When it seemed we were going to be overrun, without thinking, I brought out my lute and played- and to my surprise the spirits of my compatriots rose and the battle turned to our favor! Perhaps it was never my words that contained the power over hearts, but something intrinsic in the sound itself.

Still, I would give any song to simply have the words to ask about my beloved Maddy.

I suffered greivious injury in battle against a cult of demented gnomes, robbing me of what little strength proper food and companionship had afforded me. And still, no clue of Maddy's whereabouts.

Maddy, no matter how long, no matter what wounds I take- even if these caverns are a part of the hells themselves- I will find you, I swear it.

Many months have past since I fell to injury. The role of warrior fits me ill. Ill or not, it is the only role one who wishes to live here may choose.

After many months, I have woken from the fever my wounds brought on. Much has changed. Many friends have passed.

Still, no sign of my beloved Maddy. If I could but ask...

What desperation here! Sanctuary has gone from bad to worse. Yet here, perhaps, my skill in song can make up for the skill in arms I lack.

But who would care for a song without words?

I met a charming elven woman named Rhyll, victimized by the cruel Drow much as I was. In my heart I felt it was my song that gave her some hope. It was as if she heard the words I can't sing. Like me, she performed throughout the Dalelands above. What tales are being sung in those humble taverns now, where I would be singing? Who dances in those lordly halls, where she would dance, at this very moment? Does that world, under sun and sky, even still exist?

After all this time, I still have no clue of Maddy's whereabouts. I inquire, as best one can without tongue, of all I meet it seems. I look as far as I can. None have seen her, none know her name.

I mustn't despair. Yet when I find her, what could I even say?

I suffered greivous injury when seperated from my companions and waylaid by a roving band of trolls. I lost all that I had, my coin, my fine clothes, my rapier and lyre, all of it, gone, and much of my lifesblood to boot. I awoke in town, penniless and wounded. But for the kindness of a friend, I would have nothing- she provided me with a suitable rapier and excellent cloak, and while my skills have not fully returned, it was enough to get me started once more.

I do take perverse relish, though that I now perform in the attire of one of the hated enemy's dead heroes of old, taken from his very tomb. May he know no rest as I wear them. May he and all his kind hear my song mocking them in hell.

I have never had much care for the gods. Yet recent events can only make me consider the hand of fate, or grace. If not of a god, than there is something to be revered in the untamed heart.

After a foray into the wild caverns beyond the gate, I fell and injured my leg. Limping back to town, alone and in pain, I was ambushed by a fell spider, huge and malign. Scarcely had I seen the beast when it ensnared me from a far in its vile web. I could but watch as it bore down upon me and struck me with her cruel barb. I fell to the ground, my lifesblood near spent and envenomed, and the last thing my fading vision saw was my assailant poising to deliver the final blow, then suddenly turning away as my world went black.

I awoke, still in mine own flesh, to my surprise, and bore witness to a wild rothe locked in combat with the spider, in a battle of nature's fury! Thus engaged, the spider was distracted from her would-be meal, and I managed to crawl off into a formation of rocks to tend my wounds and let the venom run its course with rest.

Setting out for the gate once more, I found the body of my saviour, and though the thought filled me with distaste, I would have been hard-pressed to make the trek without sustenance. Nonetheless, I fear I have lost my taste for roast rothe or Hans' gold.

For what did this beast lay down its life? Could such a simple creature offer grace, or know courage, or compassion? I may never know, but I shall forever be reminded to honor even the humblest of beings. For in its last act of life, it saved me from certain demise, and in dying for it, gave me the strength to continue.

I must write a song to honor what this noble animal did for me.