After a couple more drinks, Damian had finally imbibed enough courage to take out a dagger, one of many that he carried on his person, and carefully dislodge the seal. The dialect was a bit different than what he was used to but he was able to make out some of the words. It seemed that it was an invitation to either imigrate to some Eastern continent or get one of his many relatives who barely spoke to him to do so. Something about needing good story teller.
His two half brothers in Atamara were well settled in and modestly successful so it was not likely that they would be interested. The third half brother was a better prospect. Still it was better to ask than not do anything. So he hired a scribe and had him make copies of the document and then sent it off to his less than hospitable relatives.
Having done his duty as he saw it, after a suitable rest Damain returned to earning a living. While monster hunting was always more lucrative, he had effectively reduced the local population so much that it was not an effective use of his time. So undead slaying, if one could call it that, was the order for the day. After three encounters and collecting the bounties, Damian had earned his daily quota of at least one gold, although the last encounter was touch and go and produced only some cuts and abrasions.
With the undead suitably suppressed, the only other thing to do was go scavanging. This was not Damain's prefered activity as his collection was already quite extensive and he had not seen hide nor hair of a wizard in months. Still there were a couple of items that he did not have yet so time to risk the peasents wrath. Sure enough the first days searching only turned up 6 groups of irrate peasants. Sometimes Damain wished peasant slaying was an option but that would just make him even less welcome. The second day was better until the very end and then it turned really good. Searching through a pile of religious discards he found a staff that had been used by the heritic Adrian who had been executed by SA zealots. This was a real stroke of luck as it was one of the items that he did not have. Only a portal stone or Book would have been more useful.
Having had a good day, Damian retired to the inn for some well deserved rest. He was starting to feel some of the aches and pains of adventuring these days. Thoughts of buying an inn and leaving the adventuring life occurred but then he would have to put up with crowds, smoke filled rooms, and occasionally need to knock some heads together to keep the place from being broken up in fights. Better to get paid for the effort with monsters and undead than people who he could not kill and that were likely to carry grudges.
