The following are excerpts from a tattered notebook recovered from the mummified hand of an unknown explorer. How the explorer got into his leathery condition is still a mystery that maybe these notes can solve. A bigger mystery is how this explorer was found under a Baccarat table in the Tropicana Lounge of the Macapa Motel 6, where they keep the torches lit for you. These mysteries will remain unsolved forever, unless I stop writing this rambling prelude and we get on with reading the notebook, so…
We are no longer alone in our search for the emeralds. Beneker has been murdered, but his pet parrot, Paco, has survived. I am continuingto investigate the scene. Will report later..
It is as we feared. Beneker’s assassin has taken the map. Fortunately, Beneker’s potty-mouthed parrot has convinced me that he knows the way to the lost, forbidden city of Chak. We are off to the airport!
We arrived in Macapa, slightly worse for wear. Thanks to Paco’s foul language and penchant for bawdy songs, we were forced to sit out the trip in the baggage compartment. We immediately met with M, who supplied us with the necessary gear for our journey. We’ll rent a small plane for the next leg. More later.
More bad news. Thanks to Paco’s insistence that he was “the ******* bird and he sure as **** knew how to fly”, our small plane crashed in the jungle. I’ve just come to after being out all day yesterday. I’ve got a huge bump on my noggin, but I’m otherwise okay. Paco is uninjured, after bailing out while yelling “Enjoy the ride, you ******** wingless wonder!” I’m beginning to hate that bird. We’ll start trekking towards the river soon.
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