Camaraderie?

Zloton,
I write again to say that I have made friends! At least...I hope I have. It’s hard to interpret human customs sometimes, but I am learning.
Regardless, let's start with the bad news since I figure that is what will please you most. Durnan had no positions at the Yawning Portal open though he told me that he would inform me if that situation changed.
Pity, but not wholly unexpected. Not being hired hardly prevents me from sampling his current menu and learning through exposure. I’ve been returning, evening after evening to try a different meal.
This rare regularity in schedule has allowed me to become familiar with certain faces, some of which have elevated me to the role of...drinking buddy? I believe that’s the term.
It’s so exciting!
Camaraderie is in short supply in my solitude and I had not realized until now that I had been missing the feeling.
The first is a halfling named Nanette Larkin, “Nettie” for short. It is difficult to not subconsciously see her as a hatching she is so small, although she insists she is tall for her people (I shall take her word for it that 3 foot 3 inches is impressive for halflings.)
Even so, she carries herself with such a sense of purpose, you cannot truly mistake her for a child. She carries a big responsibility upon her shoulders. You can tell.
She is a bard, a real one, not just a minstrel stumbling into the restaurant begging for coin, a bard with magic. Her music is like nothing else; her drum pounds like the heart beneath your scales. She is elf taught apparently. I am ignorant of the significance of that, but it is treated like a selling point.
She wears traveling clothes and carries a large basket everywhere she goes, which I find a curious custom. Would it not get tiring? I don’t know; perhaps she is paranoid of thieves. I know I’d be if I owned such magnificent instruments.
I like her. She reminds me of my sister, although I cannot quite place why. There is a bright optimism, even idealism that surrounds her, tempered by purpose, real directed purpose. Hmmm, I guess I have some idea why I think of my sister when I’m with her after all, although....I feel like there’s more to it.
In contrast, I’m not sure what to think of Blind Pete. He’s human, I assume. Although he does not look like any human I’ve seen. His skin is dark, and he has these wonderful tattoos that I know not the significance of. He has an accent that is clearly not waterdhavian but apparently he has been begging through these streets for decades. He came into some money recently, seeing as he occasionally pays for his drinks, but he has the habits of someone with not a coin to his name.
If you are not watching your food or drink with zeal, he shall cheerfully take it. It would be more dishonourable if he made any real attempt to conceal his thievery. My nonchalance may also stem from the fact he rarely takes from my plate unless I let him. This has nothing to do with respect toward me. It’s just that I savor my food with such unwavering passion, there is rarely a moment when I do not have my focus directed toward my plate. As it is, I’ve taken the attitude that if I don’t give my meal my full attention, he is welcome to pick at it.
He’s also a spellcaster of some sort, but I’m not sure it is wizardry like mine. I recognize prestidigitation, although he uses it for fart jokes and pranks. I strongly suspect he isn’t a registered spellcaster, which is odd since he makes little attempt at hiding his power. Ironic, as I am registered and yet I doubt anyone at my drinking table even knows I’m a wizard. I introduced myself as a chef. Obviously.
Blind Pete likes food, something that I will always empathize with. His enthusiasm for taste and nourishment never fails to lighten my mood. He in general has a boisterous personality. He’s friendly, with a jovial laugh.
I like him, although I know not if that reveals more about my own preferences than him. For his cheer does not completely mask...a certain menace. Bah, I’m not certain how to describe it, but he’s dangerous. Old instincts from the Defenders flair up with him.
He also, interestingly, lacks eyes. Considering how well he walks, I suspect he sees through rat on his shoulder. At first, I thought it was just a familiar. I am no stranger to rat familiars after all. However, this rat, this Baron von Raticus is more than that. Pete speaks of him with a level of reverence due to the Vanquisher, not a pet.
I shall never think ill of loyalty (I have sacrificed much in its name) and I shall never think ill of a rat (I did use one against you after all), so I am inclined to give this small furred lord every courtesy.
I offer similar courtesy to the half elf named Ristrien for she carries herself with a dignity that almost seems out of place in a bar. Her hair is silver, but she’s 24, which was kind of her to say. Elf blood seems to have strange effects on aging.
I’m afraid I have less to write about her. She is mysterious. You do not need to know her long, before it becomes clear she is a wealth of knowledge made flesh. I empathize with her search for knowledge, even if it is more general than the search that consumes me. I see my own curiosity reflected in her brown eyes. I like her for that hunger, the hunger to know more, whatever the costs. She has the aura of a quiet archivist, but I sense she is more powerful than she lets on. She works in a guild hall? I’m not sure what it means, but it sounds respectable. Perhaps I shall learn more about this quiet strength of hers in our drinking nights to come.
Flynn Donan Manther is the son of a lord, which from my research is a big deal. He also is the SECOND son, which, also from my research, means it’s much less of a big deal. His eyes are blue and his skin pale. Apparently it’s a common look further north. He’s also tall, only a few inches shorter than me. (the same goes for Blind Pete, but he slumps enough you don’t immediately notice).
He likes to drink, talk about his “sword” and the conquests it’s carved, and eye the adventurers longingly. I like him. He’s noble of course, but besides wearing his family’s symbol, he doesn’t hold it over anyone I’ve seen. He’s friendly, but there’s a tension to him, like he desperately has something to prove. Yeah, yeah, I know. Takes one to know one. I don’t deny I used to be that, but his issues seem to come less from himself and more the situation.
I suppose it is a shame he shall not inherit the wealth and prestige of his father. He seems adept at it. I have yet to meet his brother, so I cannot attest to how he compares to him, but in my presence, he has demonstrated competence and authority, if not wisdom.
He has quite the appetite for the carnal pleasures. In fact, I think he may surpass even you in...enthusiasm. That connection morbidly bemuses me, as most things do when they pertain to you.
Anyway, that is all for now. I’ll be drinking again with them (these people do love their drink) tonight, and I anticipate that it will be as pleasing as before.
Assuming you do not visit me, I’ll write again soon.