21st of Tarsakh, 1492

Day seven of our journey south, and the weather has grown cold and wet. The caravan is camped outside The Golden Erne, a roadside inn just south of Way Inn. Some inconsiderate bastards have rented the entire premises for a private party of four, and refuse to share shelter with anyone from our caravan. Even the barn has been barred from our use.

Obviously, I will not stand for this sort of nonsense. I have stealthily ensconced myself in an unoccupied room upstairs, and have locked the door. If anyone wants to come in here looking for a fight, it will be their last taste of bad luck, by Beshaba I swear it, klaatu barada nikto amen.

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