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Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire
"Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire"
|Finding the crumpled notes and key to treasure chest|
|Mag Deira cuirass|
Journal entry[edit | edit source]
- While passing through a burned-down village, Geralt came across a body. After indulging in his bizarre habit of searching every rotting corpse that crosses his path, he found the departed individual has been carrying a set of notes written in a very unsteady hand. Figuring these might be the dying man's last words, Geralt decided to read them closely...
- Soldiers have come. Whether ours or there's [sic] – don't know. Don't really matter anymore. I heard them riding down the road. Hid. Nailed the door shut. Maybe they won't get in.
- They spent the whole night killing and raping. I saw it all through the cracks in the wall. Bit my finger to the bone trying to keep from screaming. Don't know if anyone else managed to hide. Maybe not. I saw them drag Antosh out. He had hid in the fields, next to the haystack where he's stashed his things. They flailed him.
- They've heard me. Know I'm in here. I didn't open up when they pounded. I though they'd burn me out, just like they did those who hid in the granary. Then they got on their horses, rode off. Quiet, now. All I can hear's the flies circling the bodies.
- I tried to knock open the door. Open the window. Dig myself out. Make a hole in the wall or the roof. Nothing doing.
- I heard people who came to rob corpses. Don't know of what, all's left is soiled shirts and foot wrappings. I called for help. They didn't answer. Only ones who'll come now are the ghouls.
- Sadly, the author of these notes, whoever he was, had quite accurately predicted his own future. Since his writing stated everyone but he had died, their [sic] was no heir left alive to collect the man's fortune. Geralt thus took it for himself. After all, he reasoned, he would make better use of it than the ghouls.