Several pages are filled with notes transcribing a story as told in rapid shorthand, messier than usual. There are several places where the notes become almost scribbles and at least one place where a line indicates the writer’s hand jerked in surprise, leaving an unintended mark. A few doodles of Dwarves and frogs fill the margins in various size ratios.

(Continued from Part 1)

Cold. Dreary. Bleak.

Furley’s boots scraped along the wet cobbles and sloshed through the puddles, his cloak wrapped tightly about him as he made his way through Bree on his way home. He sighed, and breathed out deeply, every breath he took seemingly lowering his mood further as the rain came down upon his well-hatted head and soaked him through.

Somehow, after losing count of the days she'd been travelling, Daphne found herself in the bustling city of Dale.
One would think that, being in a merchant Company, she'd be used to being around a lot of merchants, but this city seemed to be on an entirely different level. She could hardly move without bumping into some person along the streets, trying to force their wares on her.