Taking a running start, you leap across the awning expanse, successfully landing on the lip of the adjacent building’s roof. Running to the other side, you find an open window situated in a gabled wall dormer. Entering the building, you fumble with the latch but manage to lock the window behind you.
Turning around, you find yourself in a fairly sparse room, although various unrecognizable symbols adorn the walls. You spot a desk against one of the walls, and cautiously walk over to it. Opening one of its drawers, you uncover a journal.
Opening the journal, you discover what appear to be the mad ramblings of a deeply troubled man. His style is mostly stream of conscious, so you find it difficult to keep track of any concrete narratives, but he makes frequent allusions to the “elders” and his suspicion that the townsfolk are “pale imitations.” He details, quite extensively, the times he believes he catches their “masks slip” when attempting to engage in pleasantries with him, and takes great pride in being able to successfully predict the paths of conversation they tend to lead him on.
Placing the journal down, you turn around and see a man before you. He is wearing ruddy clothes, and sports a disheveled comb over. He is staring intently at the tome peeking out of your satchel. He asks if he can see it. What do you do?
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