Don't know why I bother writin' in this bloody thing. Master Arun seems to think it'll help me 'sort out my feelings,' but I swears up 'n' down I haven't felt a feelin' in years! Not even all alone in me bunk at night!

Wait! Here's a feelin': How come every sobbing sod from Hunter's Edge we bring in here's got to bed for his life like some kind of weeping maiden? Take it like a man, I say!

And while I'm at it, those necromancers have got a chip or two on their ghoulish shoulders. When I bring 'em a cartload of stiffs, they look at me like I'm a sewer rat!

I s'pose my favourite blokes in this dump are the miners. They don't say much, and that's how I like 'em.

Well. Master Arun was wrong. I ain't sorted anything out at all. Back to cuttin'!