[i]I slept peacefully, if one might call a log peaceful. It was honestly pretty hard to wake me up, something I inherited from my dad. Both of us were strong, big eaters, and heavy sleepers. I trusted Filden to sufficiently wake me when the time came, but enough about me. Let's check back in with the other player in the story. 

This next bit will be from what she later told me, so the details might be a bit fuzzy. But here it goes: I didn't know it yet (and I wouldn't for some time), but Emmaline was a fucking good liar and con artist. She had finangled these two guys, Gauln and Locke, with her charms and a story that would make a great novel. Topping it off with one of her many costumes, she played them like a fiddle and they actually bought most of what she said. Of course, lying can lead to some poor consequences and now she found herself being tugged around and forced to find a boat. 

Her eyes were sharp as her wit, luckily. Through the throng of the desperate and destitute, she found a pair of beady eyes that scanned her would-be suitor with open greed, something she could appreciate and recognize easily enough, I bet. I don't know why, but when she gets that look in her eyes it drives me nuts. Anyway, slipping through the crowd, she found someone I could have told her to avoid if we had known each other. A known scoundrel named Anwir. He smells like piss and it's hard to miss, and no I didn't mean to rhyme. He had himself a small corner shop with a small roof that could barely keep out the sun let alone rain.

Gauln almost had a conniption when he thought he had lost her, but he was taller than many of the immigrants and saw her across the river of people. I know I could spot that ass out of a lineup, but judging by what she's told me about him, he was deeply enamored with her. Locke was more savvy to her games, but he had most men's weakness and didn't want a pretty girl to disappear. Even if it's not the normal reasons, if he found she was lying and could prove it, he would get a big reward from his boss. 

"A boat?" Anwir asked aloud. His voice sibilant and loathesome. Most of his hair had receded, and a small patch of it formed above his upper lip looking like someone had shoved a caterpillar on it. He had swindled a lot of people out of their money, but he wasn't used to Emmaline. She did that thing girls do where they press their arms close to their chest and looked at him with her big blue eyes. He still wouldn't get fooled out of his own money, but it buttered him up. "All the boats are gone, but there is a way to get on the water..." 

"What is it?" Emmaline asked as Gauln found her. 

"Step away from him!" He told Emmaline, stepping between the two and grabbing at his sword. He might be estranged of his lands, but he looked every inch a noble. "Who are you, cur?" 

"Merely a humble purveyor of information, my lord. I saw you and your lady were of means and I felt it was terrible to see you walking amongst the riff-raff. As I told her, there are no boats left. But there is a craft that would go downriver, and you're in luck. It's to leave today at noon. But that's not all..." 

"Noon?" Emmaline and Gauln said together, though she was aghast and he had laughed out the word. It was almost noon just then! 

"I also happen to have a souvenir, something I found at an auction down in Darkwater..." He said with a bitter smile, producing a piece of brass, formed in a long hexagonal shape with two sharpened points, perfectly proportioned. He held it before their eyes for a lingering moment, before setting it down on the small table set before him. 

"Why do you wish to sell us this?" Locke asked, daring to speak before his master. Gauln seemed to give him leave, however, and so he continued. "Where is this raft you speak of?" 

"Why the eastern docks." Arwin hissed, and he placed his hands on the table, standing up and leaning over it to look Gauln in the eye. "But you won't get on it without a ticket. One I could provide, and I will if you would but purchase this item. This, my lord, is the key to the ancient city of Tzecholitchi. A fabled city of untold treasures. I've heard tell it's in the jungle nearby, with treasure just waiting to be taken." 

"Why not simply allow me to purchase the ticket? Why care about this...key?" Gauln asked. 

Arwin laughed. "Ah, a question only an educated man could form. But my secrets are my own. You see this...this... what? Where the fuck is it?" 

The scoundrel looked down at the table to find his glorious key now missing. Gaul and Locke's eyes followed his gaze, and then they looked to their side. God I wish I had been there, I would have laughed my ass off. As you could probably guess, Emmaline was now gone. And it took only a minute for the panicked lord to take his squire's advice and check his coin purse to find it missing as well.
[/i] 
[hr]
"Wake up boy, they're here." Filden said, shaking me awake. My world came rushing back, and I let out a grunt. My body was warm and felt very nice indeed, but living with the dwarves had helped me get a healthy work ethic. I got up without complaint, thanking the old man who mumbled a complaint. I smiled. Blinking, my eyes adjusted to the scene laden before me with a new crowd. 

There was a young man, well groomed and in the robes of a scholar who stood waiting alone. I couldn't guess his origins... some northerner. Next to him were three conquistadors, wearing morion helmets and sporting breastplates. Their mustaches were of the Dre Costan fashion, and they carried sideswords and primitive arquebus. They chatted amongst themselves, arguing in their tongue over something specific. Standing nearest the dock was a woman, if I had to guess close to her forties. She had long brown hair and a workman's apron on, bedecked with tools and a shawl. The last one was an older gentlemen with a red merchant's tabard and a plumed hat. He looked at everyone and everything like they had been found wanting, something that would grate most people. I didn't care, as long as he had payment for a ticket. 

"Alright," I said, drawing their attention. They all turned, their aimless gazes and thoughts interrupted when they looked at me. I was distinctly aware of what most of them thought; I was used to it. My skin was caramel and kissed by the sun, and my features, though not unlike theirs in some ways, were somewhat alien in others. I was a half-blood, wearing strange clothes in a strange land. I wasn't offended by the looks. Stuff like that didn't bother me. But if something poor came out of it, that was a different story. I gave them a smile. "I'm Beren, I'm your guide. We're going as far as Stranglecreek, down river." 

"Not up river? I was told..." The young man asked, the elderly merchant nodded in agreement and speaking his mind. "Yes, can we not go north?" 

"There's nothing north but jungle and elves, and desert if you go far enough. The river the barges use isn't fit for anything less than a full ship to sail. Water's too rough. You can go with me or stay here." 

Needless to say, they gave me their money. Just when I was about to list the rules, I saw her. She came sprinting out of the alley like her ass was on fire.