[The pages of this tattered, leather-bound book are covered in a messy scrawl, almost as if the author was writing whilst moving. Strange reddish stains... which bear an uncanny resemblance to dried blood cover the vast majority of the pages]

The Pasha's sent us on yet another trip into the slums of Calimport, apparently Mustafar and myself are to track down and capture one of the Pasha's numerous debtors. The Pasha seemed to be very keen on having this man bought in alive. I do not think coin is the root cause of all this, but as always, I will follow my orders to the letter and keep these thoughts to myself.

We seem to have found the elusive thief, one of Mustafar's many contacts in the Mystic Tavern had informed us of the man's current location... a dilapiladated building situated in the dark underbelly of Calimport. I am hesitant to venture into that part of the city without a good reason, and the word of a man who seemed to be deep in his cups is not reason enough for me, but Mustafar seems to trust this man and Mustafar... for all his faults is an excellent judge of character. I can only hope that our foray into Calimport's underworld will be a short one.

Mustafar's friend was right after all. We found the thief hiding within the run-down building which the drunkard told us about, as expected, we found that the only entrance into the building was locked, there also were a few poorly set snares placed within the doorway. (Mustafar will not be able to use his right leg for a week or so)

We found the man hiding in one of the back rooms, cowering with fear behind the door. When we finally confronted the man, he told us "the truth". The truth about our Pasha and his involvement with one of Calimport's numerous Guilds--[The writing abruptly stops and a dark brown stain covers the remainder of this page]

Mustafar. The clumsy lummox has got into yet another brawl, it seems that even a serious injury--such as the one inflicted upon his leg--or the thought of Calimport's finest assasins pursuing us would not stop him from partaking in "Some good, honest fun" as he would so quaintly put it. Needless to say, the owner of the tavern was not pleased with Mustafar's display and had the pair of us ejected from his tavern... forcefully. We were cast out of the only refuge we had in the city, and so we made the decision to leave the city for good and make for the northern lands, hopefully the Pasha's hand does not extend so far. We made a deal with one of the local merchants and agreed to serve as an escort for his carava--[The sentence abrupty ends in a sharp line, almost as if the writer has just suffered a sharp jolt]--I shall continue this entry once we have camped for the night.