I arrived here in your time disoriented and distraught. Within a short
time though, certain among you, notably Llewellyn, Tay, and Ralph became
close and trusted companions, bringing some light into my temporal
plight.

But I do not understand much of what happens here. Life is...different.
It is more violent, for one, and I seem to be on the receiving end of
too much of it. Today, after being kidnapped, tortured and slain by the
Shakti, Mephisto, and Silvestorm and Mordyval, I was forced to pledge,
on behalf of the Jesters now and forever, that we will keep the art of
Tarot secret.

I do this, fine. I do it because in a short time my sense of humour has
been ruined by these beasts. I do it because I have no choice, and all
the young happy jesters don't deserve to be prey to the Occultist
wolves.

I journey to find what happened to Seleucar. Perhaps someday, years from
now, I will return, to tell your children jokes while I pass my final
days in peace, assuming that the Occultists and their allies have
forgotten their hatred.

Goodbye. I would leave you with one more joke, but my heart has been
broken as my body was broken.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Miraman, in the year 299 AF.