Tearsday, 6th of Maee, 4762 SR
Oh, this path I stride, all to gain distance from my carceral fate. I fear, however, that I merely supplanted one prison for another. Misters Rockseeker and Hallwinter needed a silver tongue and a gilded name, yet the irony presented by the weight of their purse does not escape me. Delivering “goods, provisions” the identity of which I am not yet privy to, and escorting a caravan – oh how the Barrington name has been tarnished!
Further indignities were suffered in my task to recruit an apparent adventuring party of nudists. Though their garb may be lacking, I can of course discern the formidable look about them. My pride was stripped bare once again when Mister Rockseeker provided no additional compensation for my enlistment efforts, and compounded insult further by riding with Mister Halwinter onward to Phandalin without me. Their instruction was at least more clear than their intent: take the caravan to Phandalin and deliver the goods to Barthen’s. At the very least, I have been liberated from the stench of cheap Dwarven ale.
Of course, without my expert assistance, their lives may be forfeit. We happened upon the corpses of fallen equine beasts on the road, and before I was able to conduct a proper investigation, we were set upon by the lowliest of goblins. My lessons with the blade were well received, and I was able to impart their tutelage with great effect.
I delegated the task of removing the impeding horse flesh to the side of the road (road – I use the term loosely) to my now-clothed companion, and a path was discovered leading away from the grizzly scene of my afternoon seminar. A maven-like application of deductive reasoning lead us to the following conclusions: 1) Our employer was dragged by goblins into the forest, and 2) the most prudent course of action would be to follow the path – and abandon our caravan.