[these notes are made on a variety of scrolls and books kept in a bag Matthias carries. There are varied musings and records of a lot of things, all written in a very careful hand]

Oh my word. Where is this? How did I find my way here? What, even, was I doing before? I think I know who I am at least. These scrolls are all signed "Scribe Matthias Patson", and it seems I am a priest of Oghma, as I have his symbol pinned to my robe, and many writings on that deity's word. I'm sitting in some sort of tavern now, but from what I remember, I made my way here after a rockslide? An explosion? something that closed off a tunnel at least. There was another man, yes, another man trapped there, dead in the rocks, byt I don't think I knew him before. It is all most perplexing! I think I shall get some rest and see if it helps collect my thoughts a little. I've found a little bag of coins in my pack, so I can pay for a room here.

Awoke this... day? Night? Morning? Does that even make any sense down here? There's no light. No wonder the locals greet each other with "good dark", that's all there is. Darkness. Nothing to track the time with. It's all very confusing.

Oh, well, on a more joyful note, I can definitely remember who I am. My title is Scribe Patson of the Archive, penman of spell scrolls and curator of minor divine artifacts. What the Archive is, where the Archive is, or even why I joined it still remain, however, conundrums.

As for my priestly duties, some time spent in prayer and study of my texts has shed light on my faith once more, and thus so divinely inspired, I can once more call myself a priest of the Binder. I have asked around to locate a temple or library I may be of service to, and have found one in the north of the city. It appears to be rather short-staffed, and so I have written a letter to the Council of this place offering my skills.

It seems there is, disappointingly, little call for scribes and scholars in this place, and my only possible callings are that of a loremaster or potion brewer. I do not feel comfortable with sharing the blessings of knowledge with only those who can afford it, but I have gratefully accepted donations in exchange for my services if offered. Praise be to Oghma for the understanding of such things!

I have even turned my hand to brute mercenary work, as though the risks are great and the work unscholarly, it does offer a wonderful chance to recover more interesting artifacts and texts for study. To prepare me better for these endeavours, I have purchased and studied several guides for novice "adventurers".

I am most glad of my apparent combat training, as I have been surprised to find that I can easily employ rather a wide variety of weaponry and armours. I can only assume that this Archive I served had occasion to defend itself from robbers or miscreants.