by Lazarus Spindlecog for his Most Cruel Master, Kelith Vedan
As I sit in my room, surrounded by the papers of the drafts which have come before, I realize that this will be my final venture. What my Master will do to me once his book is finished, I do not know. My Master usually does not let his tools continue to live once he is finished with them.
I have delayed the day of completion of this text for many months, hoping to draw some last pleasure out of my life. Alas, my Master has not taken me away from this dismal place in twice as long. I begged to be shown Strahnbrad a second time, or perhaps gaze from a distance upon the magical field that bars entry to Dalaran - but it is not to be. My Master says that I have seen enough, and now is the time for writing.
I fear I will never leave Caer Darrow again.