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[Melchior Shepard]

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Water Logs - prelude

The trek to Trinsic had resulted in little more than a loss of liquid for Melchior Shepard. The entrance, and follow events, however, had resulted in a decent heft in the rogue's stride. The accompanying jingle had only lasted long enough to make it across the street from a fence to the provisioned, and had all but dissipated by the time Melchior stepped out of the cook's hut.

Melchior took the time to correct his belt and glance around the streets. His stomach and pack were full, but such luck has all too rapidly escaped his coin purse. The streets of Trinsic were lonely in the waning sun light, the two moons eager to cast the city their glow. Melchior reached for his trusty cap and to his dismay, found it missing. He remarked idly,

"Damn..must have forgot I stowed it in that stool in the Drow joint"

Cursing once more into the night, he knew it would be too far a trip for the off chance one of those obsidian skinned devils hadn't taken the chance to take possession of the second luckiest hat to ever leave the Township of Cove.

"West to my hat, or East to enough gold to buy a hat and a half if I so pleased...Damn Drow."

Melchior kicked the stone and made for the docks, a nagging voice reminding him in the back of his mind that they had little to do with it, and the ghosts of painful blacked eye threatening to rekindle the lessons he'd failed to learn in Cove.

[Melchior Shepard]

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"Har har har! Ye' look like a lad who ain't seen much past a winter on the Sea"

Melchior turned his gaze to the haggard old figure, resting against the sign denoting his surroundings, the Trinsic docks. The ancient figure had rough and peeling skin that spoke of countless hours of motionless sunlight exposure, rosy cheeks in stark contrast of his otherwise pallid mask. He was a drunkard.

"You know little old man, perhaps you know just enough to tell me if you've seen a schooner with three yellow sails and a purple mooring rope."

The ancient man cackled madly at the obscure description. Raising a foggy bottle and tilting his head right and down, he launched into a monologue fueled by the ponderously smoking swill.

"The Dereleth hasn't tossed her moors to the sweet shores of Trinsic since the times before the walls came up! Ho-har-hack-weeeeeze! You'd be better off swimming sonny! Donny "Derelict" Dereleth won't pay his dues to the Sons of the Sea, ya' see! I'm a founding member! I wrote the charter, boy!"

*squish*

"She rests out past the inn on the cove, boy, you'd best make your way to her."

The Drunkard seemed as surprised to see the darkly clad figure as Melchior did. He was a tall man of imposing figure, shoulders from one end of Trinsic to the other, nearly filling the opening in the secure stone walls of the city all by his lonesome. He wore a long leather overcoat that has either been wet too many times, or had been recently pulled from the waters and was slowly acclimating to the surface.

"My first mate will address you on your work and the limitations that exist while on my ship, we leave an hour before first light, and you..my good friend, how is the drink today?"

The attention of the captain caused the drunk to curl away shyly, but not afraid or intimidated, but as a child shys away from the attention they crave, he said nothing, and hardly reacted as a small chest thudded onto the grass next to him.

"Give that to Jack the Loan Shark, it's what we owe him, and what he owes the rest of that sorry lot..my business with this town is done."

Melchior watched his new captain stride away before realizing the moments gaze he'd been allotted was a command to follow, he hustled after him.

"Captain, Captain De-"

Spinning around, Melchior was once again cut short by another.

"Are you talkative, boy? I don't much care for talkative individuals in the mornin' or the evenin'. I'd cut out the tongues of those like you, but I've yet to convince a port authority that a jib line snapping took out a man's tongue without his entire head."

A long pause sat before he started laughing, then Melchior followed, nervously.

Then he abruptly stopped.

"You weren't kidding, were you?"

"No...I wasn't."

They walked in silence past the inn, destined for the Dereleth.

[Melchior Shepard]

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*Page missing*

[Melchior Shepard]

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The following appears to be a hand written manuscript, inked with cheap supplies



That acursed drunkard had been right, that boat hadn't been accepted into the docks for some years due to some debacle involving a corpse. I hardly wanted to get involved, oddly enough the Captain expounding on my queries on the way to his ship. He is an odd man, towering and as frightening as he is almost seemingly constantly moist. My previous entry should have summarized the events of the salvaging, what a horrid series of events. I shall hang my head and turn sea-ward for that man's family, I hope they managed to get his body down. I managed to recover the scrolls, however. After a short trip to Skara Brae to recover my belongings. I stopped into the local fence and my conjecture proved true, it's Gargish. It bears the markings that resemble sand and some strange blades, the clerk there said I should see if an alchemist could inform me. After selling him a few other notable objects I'd recovered from the downed ship, I attempted to broker those black diamonds I found, he promptly ejected me. I will make for the taverns on the morrow, perchance I'll encounter what I need. Also, I need to go get my hat back.

[Melchior Shepard]

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*The Follow is another internal account of some events from the perspective of Melchior Shepard, once again the supplies used seem sub par*

The indignation the Drow played on my brow is half rectified, and trumped by the nerve of some skittery noblewoman I encountered in the outskirts of Umbra. Hurm. My last entry is dated much further than I recall, am I losing track of time? Curious, I recall but half of the events, ooh well, no matter. Probably some bad Vittles in Vesper. [hee-hee] Alas, I have my cap back once more, I spotted Harvey and that odd man Yacob again, I have no ide The noble woman! ARIANA LENIOR! I stalked her and two unidentified figures to an estate near those ponderous ruins Harvey and I trotted about [Charnel Hill according to some local]. After surveying them for some time Harvey and myself mugged the woman, I took her necklace under the agreement she would provide me with tomes on Summoning and Daemonic entities, the tome was nothing more than a hastily penned mockery by the aforementioned culprit! I ventured to the Drow Tavern [The Tangled Web according to some bar tender] where I saw Harvey with Yacob, peculiar man, I need to contact that very odd man in regards to our business arrangement. He had some sort of troupe on his hills, they may be able to assist me in my prod at the Drow. I have my cap, so I believe all is well. I was told by some man that Orcs had been raiding the Moonglow Isles rather frequently, I suppose now would be as good time as any to attempt to procure some proper reading materials.

New to-do list.
1.Con Drow.
2.Re-con Lenior.
3.Re-convene with Yacob to procure "connables".
4.Invest in horse, or some other mount.

addendum list-suitable mounts
1.Horse[dappled] <-\______Same?
2.Horse[cow spotted] <-/
3.Llama [Standard Llama color configuration]
4.Dragon [Luck variety? Swamp? Something like that.]