Oerth is such a lonely place for us and our kin. I live among the humans but they cannot comfort me as you could my dearest. They know not of the weight that the ages have upon us. Because we have not met, my dearest, you know not that the weight of the ages presses on me more than it used to.
I killed a human last night. I thrilled at it, my blood was hot, my skin prickled. The legacy of the god of blood called to me, I wanted more. It is our dark legacy to feel these things, the height of pleasure, the depth of sorrow, and the heat of battle. I am in the midst of a great struggle. If only I could find you my dearest, these emotions could be tamed, my tumult of spirit calmed. My blood-lust was so hot that I wanted the others to be killed. If Kassoth had not intervened, those others might have been sent to the bay floor, where my rage demanded them.
My years as an arena fighter have left me a raw nerve. I see their faces at night, all the dead come to haunt me. Last night he was there, the human I killed. Its strange, in dreams they walk and talk as if alive but their bodies are as they were at the moment of death. He was a dark skinned man, ten years past adulthood for a human, he had the affectations of a pirate though he did not have the manner of a pirate. He came to me, and we had a talk. I could have let him live, and he told me so. I told him abut the curse of our kin, the legacy of the blood god, once the froth of battle has started there can be only destruction. He laughed. He said he knew not of these things, only that our kin see the humans as dolls that we can tear asunder. I protested, I told him it was not true. He laughed, and I woke to his laughing. Every night it is the same, a new night, a new regret, a new laugh.
My dearest, I hope that we may find each other soon. I fear that the sadness of the ages might take me and that is not a path our kin may travel alone.