My Friends,

I want to thank all of you for your help in ending the life of that vile child-killing Drow.  His death brings a small measure of justice to a murdered boy.  Allow me to explain…

My real name is Cenric, the third son of House Marsember in Cormyr -though I have traveled so long as “Ceol” that these days the name suits me better.

This is my story, -the real story. I think you have earned this closely-guarded truth from me.

As a third son, I was largely ignored by my sire and the noble training my siblings were subject to.  Still, my father was aghast when, -against his wishes-, I joined the royal guard of House Obarskyr.

After some time the scandal of a "soldier noble" died down, and through hard work I was eventually assigned to the team protecting Prince Azoun.  I liked being a soldier. I respected my leaders and comrades among the Greys.  I grew to love the young Prince as I guarded his carefree days in the palace.

I was not on watch the night Azoun was killed, but we Greys all scrambled to the alarm.  The first thing I saw were my dying comrades, the second was that accursed Drow slinking out a window like a spider.

The worst thing I saw was the body of my Prince.

I leapt at the attackers still in the Prince’s chambers vowing to make them pay, but their numbers overwhelmed me. My fury was cut short by an envenomed sword through my lung and a blow to the head.

I awoke, wounded and in chains, to find myself dragged before the “new king”, Gondegal, to face his writ of treason.

As the charges were read, I learned that both the Prince and his Regent had been killed. It was clear to me that Gondegal had engineered a palace coup, and I saw this same knowledge written on the guarded brows of many courtiers.  I saw no friends willing to speak for me that day. Cowards all.

At trial my survival was “proof” of my involvement in the Prince’s murder.  The witnesses against me were the most callow and venal to be found in the capital.  I soon stopped listening. I knew this farce would end with my execution.

To my surprise, the King's sentence was exile.  It seemed that my family name could provide some shield against injustice even in Godegal’s poisonous court.  I was under no illusion though, I knew assassins would set upon me the first chance they got.

I was ignominiously thrown into a wagon and put out of the city walls of Suzail with my bandages soaked through and blood bubbling from my mouth with every rut and bump.

My family’s seat lay to the east, so I fled north to the King’s Wood. More by luck than anything, I lost my pursuers in the Stormhorns.  In that maze of snowy canyons I met a pair of trappers who hid me until my wounds healed.

In the second week of Eleint, I left the Stormhorns as Ceol from the Dalelands. I began to seek revenge and justice.

I chased rumors west into the Sunset mountains and the Forest of Wyrms.  I missed the murderer by mere days in Soubar. I could sense myself drawing  closer as I raced up the trade way to Waterdeep.  Once there, the trail ran cold.

I am not sure if it was by luck or design that I saw Mylyl in the Yawning Portal, -I think the latter since he lay in wait for me at the bottom of the well.

Regardless, him leaving me alive a second time led to his death in this dank and unremarkable hallway.  I hope Azoun can rest more easily now that this despicable monster has met his end.

The Drow not only murdered Prince Azoun, he fled with Ilbratha -the bloodline weapon of House Obarskyr.  I am duty-bound to retrieve this sword and return it to Raedra, the true blood heir of Obarskyr, and to help her depose the usurper who sits her throne.

That is my story.

I thank you again for helping me right this wrong by ending the life of a vile assassin.

I pledge my spear to you all; as friend and as comrade in arms.  All I ask in return is your continued loyalty and camaraderie.

If there is anything this son of Marsember can do to aid you, all you need do is ask.