Gran,

My name is Leslie. You might remember me, I look pretty damn distinctive. Average height, green hair, piercings. U brand on the side of my face. You served me a drink, but you were too busy to speak...I thought I would write you, even though I would rather do this in person.

When I was 13 years old, my father, Frank Genarive, a man you likely knew, came home drunk, and violent. He took me into the kitchen, and rested a piece of metal in the hearth. He was ranting, and raving. He removed the metal, and told me he was going to quote "Mark me for what I was". Most of his ranting was entirely incoherent. He went on to take the metal from the flames, and brand me with a large U.

Later that evening, after he had stormed off, my mother comforted me. I asked her about his rantings. She said she had waited too long in telling me the truth of my birth.

She told me Frank Genarive was not my father. She had, in fact, not slept with him until after I was born, as he refused to touch her, knowing full well she was pregnant. She told me she had been with another man, previous to meeting Frank, and only one man.

She told me this man was Monty Ubel. I tell you now, on the grave of my mother, who fought alongside Warlord Tooth and died, that I am the son of Monty Ubel, and that I am your Grandchild. It took me years to cope with this, and more to find out how to get into the town that housed the last of my family...But I am finally here, and I hope that I am welcome here.

If you wish to speak with me..let me know. I would love to talk. I am sure you are naturally skeptical. Understandably. I'm not asking for anything, though. I don't want money, or connections. All I want is to know the last of my family, remaining.

-Leslie Ubel