Roland Feltwig sat at the table in his stateroom aboard the Tarkel’s Glory, datapad before him. He couldn’t write the letter with pen and paper; he had to send it quickly before the ship left Outba space station.
I hope this letter finds you healthy and whole. We searched for you everywhere; we called you on your data pad and dispatched station security. We failed. There was no delaying the ship’s departure.
I fear that the worst has happened. Were you abducted by the Srrrylat Hierarchy for a life of slavery, or taken to some Rshast prison over a misplaced comma?
Beware beings with bold stripes. Remember the bard’s speech to his nephew. Whatever happens, I hope you will approach your life with Feltwig dignity and courage.