Hobbs

It appears I am horrible at keeping this thing updated. How many months has passed since I've jotted anything down? Does it even serve a purpose? All it contains are sporadic thoughts that have little no meaning for current events...the ink blots in a series of dots as though the author were taping the tip of quill against the parchment It serves only as reminders. Must I be reminded of such things? Bah. I am asking no one but myself these things. another few drips are seen as if the writer had to re-dip their quill

I did meet an interesting female a few nights back. Never did catch their name. No matter, their scent can easily be picked out. Cinnamon, vanilla, and autumn leaves.. such appears to be in season for this glorious month. Quite the spit fire for a woman. It was a delight to watch her interactions with that bar maiden. This one might be rather interesting... the tip of the quill appeared to have been tapped in thought

Then there was this other female from the other night. I ran into them in the library as I was looking for a particular book. They made quite the assumption to my inquiries. I can't say I've seen a woman act with such persistence to garner my attention. It was a sinful pleasure to deny her. Perhaps she will read the book I presented her. I wonder how she will act if we meet again.

I think I've written enough in this thing for one night. Looking it over, it is rather pointless. Why scribble down my own thoughts onto a piece of parchment? Absolute nonsense. I should just burn this damn thing and be done with it. there was a hard mark where the writer slammed the tip of the quill onto the paper; puncturing a hole upon the page

I am horrible at keeping logs... Why do I have this thing? And why am I still writing in it... Hours wasted upon paper with mulling thoughts. What if one were to open this and read it? Would they even care as to what ramblings my mind had forced my hand to paint in words? Bah... I doubt it.

Though something very interesting appears to be going on... It would seem that I've run into two kin of mine..
Polar opposites these two are. I am not sure what to make of it. Are our numbers rising again? One is in dire need of work. Her combat skills are atrocious...sloppy. I cannot have that. Our kind to look weak..not on my island... My home. As for the other, I am not sure what to make of them. They look to be stuck between phases. Like a curse? Even my blood magick seems to have no effect on them. I've not seen that one in days, Xeit they said their name was. The other Brisen. It would seem the writer was tapping their quill upon the parchment for there were faint ink splatters on the page.

Either way, I must check over the ledger tomorrow. We set sail, Claire and I. I just hope that frigate hasn't journeyed outside of my grasp...the item they have on board. I must retrieve it..maybe salvage the ship if it bears the canons... I could use a small fleet. I should probably discuss this with my guest, but what would she think of me? A thief? I guess there is only one way to find out... At dawn we embark.

I thought I had lost this thing. Bah. I've more things on my mind than I care to scribble on this piece of parchment. So much has happened...where do I begin?

I've managed to save enough coin after enlisting in the local militia that I've finally bought a ship. The very one I've been serving on for the past two years as the Quarter Master. The Captain retired and offered me Her. The Hades' Poison. She is a magnificent beauty with a less than favorable history. To think if anyone knew what this ship was used for... I doubt it'd be making it back on its next voyage, yet here we are. Home at last.the ink blotches a little and peppers as though the writer is re-dipping their quill

I have also ran into a mysterious woman, Claire is her name. She is quite extraordinary. Those eyes are a something I've never seen before... She has this magical entity about her that draws me in. This is absurd. Why am I writing about this woman? I am in need of a drink. A strong one...not this watered down rum they stock behind the bar. I need to go for a run. It's been a long time since I've stretched my legs...

Our count has seemingly differed, three less occupants than what is logged. I am sure of it. Perhaps they will find themselves at home in the sea. Ah...this place. The smell of gun powder and leather. There are screams and other mindless chatter coming from within. Also...I believe there is enough alcohol inside to bring down a wyvern. The hallways reek of it.

I was recently shown my quarters. Not a bad start for a few silver. The bed is large enough to accommodate myself and perhaps a guest if I so wished. But now is not the time. I need to seek out some work. Maybe that stone mason or lock smith... I am certain a trade skill such as those would be useful...

It is done. I will be starting as an apprentice with the warden to maintain the locks. This will do nicely... I hear there are many an item that I know are worth their weight in gold. Do I dare? The island is known for it's dark pleasantries... Perhaps I will give it a go. What is the worse that could happen that I wouldn't be able to pick my way out of?

How many days are we at now? I've lost count...

We have been in the water for quite some time and I can't shake this feeling of being watched. There is a scent of another that is like me. A Get.. Though their intentions of embarking on this journey are unknown. Perhaps to purge the lineage for I've heard others reside upon the isle we are headed toward.

It was mentioned in passing rumors that this place, The Golden Tether is where one's darkest desires can be fulfilled. I wonder what it is they mean - darkest desires... It'd be a shame if the other had an accident before our arrival. Yes, a shame indeed. But for now, I plan to see this place myself and make my own interpretation for it sounds far better than the decaying streets of Budapest.