I have never understood the need for followers of any particular deity to erect large or grandiose churches and cathedrals to demonstrate their faith, or to fill those buildings with the type of wealth that could feed villages for generations. Across the city of Neverwinter large buildings devoted to Helm, Oghma, and Tyr cast long shadows over the many shrines and places of prayer for those who prefer their faith be directed elsewhere.

My mother was extremely pious, to the point where some could call her fanatical. Not one to proselytize or condemn others for believing differently than she, she instead explained that every action bent to the will and service of Kelemvor was an act of worship, and that he should be worshiped as often as possible. Thoughts and deeds which were out of sorts with his teachings tempted one to stray from the path, while those that reinforced the natural order and balance of the world brought one closer to the Great Guide’s purpose. These lessons were ingrained in me from my first memories.

It is not my place to tell others how to worship or venerate their gods, much as it is not their place to instruct me in mine. While sitting near a humble campfire on the road to Luskan, I feel the even touch of the Lord of the Dead as surely as I do when battling for my life against orcs and ogres far beneath the surface streets of my new home. A life yet well-lived is no guarantee of future prosperity, but I am filled with the confidence that I will not fail him, and as such he shall always support me.

I cannot abide the idea of pirates and cutthroats, but I do respect that they have some manner of code and internal structure within which they operate. Just this morning the leader of a small ruffian band offered to parlay with me before we took up arms, if I so desired. Ultimately we could not come to a peaceful conclusion, but I think both of us were heartened by the encounter, whatever the outcome.

Shortly thereafter I was able to find my contact, a Harper by the name of Seven-Toes, who offered to help disrupt the bandits that had taken up residence inside Blackdagger Ruins. As with so much in this world there was of course a price for his help, which included assisting in the recovery of a presumed-dead Harper agent named Xalliana.

I know little about the Harper organization, other than they value peace and good order in society. I disagree with many of their methods, and even some of their ultimate aims, but believe they can be a helpful force when it comes to reclaiming the lands around Neverwinter from the chaotic forces which have laid claim to them. Seven Toes—a barrel-chested, bald man with sun-leathered skin—assures me that he wouldn’t ask of me anything that goes against my “natural inclinations.”

Somehow his promise wasn’t confidence-building.

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