I left the east Gate of Cheydinhal perhaps two hours ago. I wandered along the road and met a travelling trader. It was fortunate he was there. If he had not been then the wolves would have surely killed me. Oh, I'm not as fit as I once was - all that time in prison has left me out of practise.
After healing myself from the wounds those dogs gave me I stumbled into an old fort. Farragut. It was occupied by undead - skeleton soldiers and archers. My bow was enough to take them out in one shot, however, and I managed to find a Fine Iron Bow on one of the archers. I delved deeper into the fort and came across a room. It looks lived in! I wonder what calls this place home. They cannot be moral. This is how I persuaded my consience into allowing me to take some of their loot.
