<div class="floatleft">(https://e0.pxfuel.com/wallpapers/540/550/desktop-wallpaper-young-man-boy-fantasy-art-peter-xiao-young-man-face.jpg)</div>Alas, you reached up for your holy symbol and found nothing there.  It was not there or anywhere in your vicinity.  And these clothes, they were not your clothes.  A coarse tan tunic over hard breeches that felt like they were made of waxed canvas.<br/><br/>You sat upright.  Breathing hurt.  Almost as if... almost as if your lungs had been scalded by fire.<br/><br/>"Hello," you uttered.  But it didn't sound like your voice, my love.  No, when you spoke, your voice did not emerge from your beautiful lips, but alas, more like a rasp.  And it hurt to speak thus.<br/><br/>But your greeting was enough to stir the young boy.  He turned, placing his elbow on the top of his chair, and looked at you.  He then stood.<br/><br/>"You are up!" the boy whispered.   "May Sune smile upon you."<br/><br/>He approached you, kneeling beside you.<br/><br/>"You are in an inn in Neverwinter, ma'am," the boy continued.   "My lord found you in the surf while out fishing.  You and your companion.  He has a great deal to say about it, to be sure."<br/><br/>* To clarify, the boy is 18, and it is perhaps more accurate to call him a squire.