|A note etched into a block of wood|
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By the gods, they're going to eat me! The drums are beating in frenzied rhythm and the Darfari savages are dancing around a pit of swirling flames. I've seen what happens to those who are cast into the pit - the screams as the searing heat consumes them. If you are, like me, a captive of these devils then I can offer no comfort. But if you are a free man and can read these words then I would ask a boon of you: Salaceo of the Black Hand pretended to be my friend and then traded me to these savages for animal hides. He needed my skills as a scribe to write down directions to the place where he keeps his treasures, lest he forget the path. But then because of my knowledge of his hiding place, he sold me to the Darfari. But I prepared for this eventuality. I wrote his instructions down incorrectly. If you find him, kill him. Do not offer quarter or mercy. Take his instructions, by way of thanks. But remember that for every step I wrote, I took two.