This journal is dog-eared. Many pages seem to have fallen out. There is no discernable order to what has been written, with interesting events seemingly being recorded as and when they happen. These events range from meeting a nice innkeeper one day, to outlandish, and quite possible fabricated events involving fighting Werewolves, running away from demonic cults and the like. The most recent entries are concerned with minor goings on and jobs taken around the area of the Sword Cost. They stop abruptly about half a year ago. The first page is stained with alcohol.
Sanctuary.
Shit, I'm still in Sanctuary. I've been in this hole a halfyear now, and it's starting to grow mighty thin. In theory I'm doing the best I ever done in a place. Got my own business held down, managed not to piss anyone off enough that they want my head. Hells! Even took on Traensyr and survived. But that's the thing. Always gotta be watching out for your hide in a dump like this.
Best run down how I ended up in this dive. Least to get it sorted out in my head. About six months back, was sleeping rough outside Waterdeep. Some bastard musta hit me on the head, or something. Cause I woke up tied on some pole, in the dark. At least, I thought it was nightime, turned out to be much worse. Goddamn bastards. Just occured to me as to why they hit me on the head if I was sleeping. Maybe they drugged me or something. Anyway, that isn't the point. Managed to escape, killing most of the sons of bitches who thought to take a Worn as a prize. Anyways. How I ended up here doesn't matter. Or didn't I just write it did. Doesn't matter.
Aw hell, customers got in a brawl outside...
[A lot of beer and cigarette ashes are strewn across the page.]