Escape artist's journal

Associated quest

 * Applied Escapology

Journal entry

 * [Part of the journal is sticky with dried blood]


 * 22nd Day of the Month of Birke
 * The worst part of my work’s not that I have to crawl through cesspits, jump from great heights, dive into canals, be tied-up, untied, lashed, burned, tortured, have my fingernails ripped out or scraped off while digging tunnels bare-handed – no, none of that’s the worst. The worst is that I’ve got to document it all, then hide the notes from the guards! Each escape must be noted down in detail – otherwise, my employers won’t have a basis for releasing my pay. The work of a professional escapologist is not easy, my friend.


 * 25th Day of the Month of Birke
 * This time I was given a contract in Toussaint. This is going to be a piece of cake. The guards are fat and drowsy and the walls pocked... [illegible fragment] I was given a thorough hiding today. Those guards are fat and indolent, true, but they know how to whip. Blast, think I’m getting too old for this. I’ll finish this contract and then it’s time for a change of trades.


 * 28th Day of the Month of Birke
 * Ha! I’m one lucky whoreson. My fellow inmate, a man wrongfully convicted, told me a story about an elven treasure trove hidden underwater somewhere south of the prison… I believe he sensed I was planning an escape. I’m supposed to take that sly rogue with me in exchange for the key. Perhaps that’s my ticket to an early retirement… [illegible fragment]


 * 1st Day of the Month of Blathe
 * I completed my dig, only to learn I had miscalculated and exited right into the lake! My companion had not learned to swim, it seems, and now he never will, for he sleeps the big sleep, dreaming of fish. Sadly I didn’t manage to take the key to the elven treasure from him. Took all my strength just to get back to our cell, where a pack of guards were waiting for me. They knocked out a few of my ribs and a handful of teeth, but I should heal.


 * 11th Day of the Month of Blathe
 * Things’re good. They’ve moved me to another cell. Bars on the window saw the days when elves ran Toussaint, so I’ll loosen those rust-rotten rods this evening and then it’s into the lake. It’s a long drop, true, but that’s no worry for me. Then I’ll report back to my employer and check out that tale about a treasure. If all goes well, I’ll soon be done with escapology!