Xofiz Said "Write!"

You said to write, Xofiz, so I've got some paper, ink, and a quill I borrowed from a new guild that has conscripted me. I still don't know where Ganandogan is. Or why my family was killed. Even after you died I found nothing. I still don't even know most of my names.
 
After you died, I didn't know where to go or what to do. All I knew was what you taught me and our life in the city. You were right about the Thief's Guild. I joined because I needed the work. Most of them really can't imagine a life beyond their own. I completed a lot of solo contracts, but I still got a bad rep for not taking contracts requiring killing. My rep got bad enough that I was challenged by an assassin in the guild hall to a duel. That duel wasn't going at all well.
 
And I woke up in this crazy world in another plane of existence. Brought here by some gods to work in an adventurer's guild. I co-own a tower along the city wall of Prism. Prism is in a world shattered by something terrible, and I'm in a group of adventurers serving these gods and trying to rebuild it somehow.
 
Get this: One of my comrades is an undead goblin. Typical. The gods, once again, make sport of my existence. And get this: I like the damn undead goblin.
 
I like the whole crew I'm contracting with. It also includes a barbarian half-orc, a wizard, and a human paladin. Weirdest. Crew. Ever. We fought with bandits today while on a contract to help a gnome settlement in the wildnerness. We spared the life of a young bandit who clearly didn't want to be a bandit (sound familiar?). We also spared the life of a fellow thief who had lived in this world in a time before its terrors. He's like most thieves, though, and I don't trust him.
 
If you see my parents and sister in the afterlife, tell them I love them and miss them terribly. And ask them where the **** Ganandogan Forest is!