|A note scrawled on flimsy paper|
I am beaten. Left to rot among the ruins of the past.
There are others here. Slaves, bandits and cannibals. Exiles from lands I've never heard of.
Some of them try to scrape a life from the wasteland, scrabbling in the rocks and sand for their own place.
I cannot go on. The life that I left behind haunts me. The sun over the glittering spires of Belverus is forever denied me. The smell of my daughter's hair...
I will pass the ghost fence and this cursed land will finally end me.
To whoever reads this note, I leave the last of my water and this message.
Stranger, you have my pity. You do not know how cursed you truly are.