This journal has sustained great damage. The ink on all the pages seem to all be blurred beyond recognition. A few pages are still legible within.
...a find indeed! What makes this rusty makeshift blade so special? So many of the Deepppockets seem to be searching for it! It must be of some great value, but I cannot see any value in a blade so dull and bloodstained. I would not have even risked my toes if it weren't for that mysterious trader Mr. Rikantus.
I never noticed that door there before, but it led strait into his shop, and a weird shop at that. It gave me the shivers, but his offer of gold soothed my frightened soul. Unfortunately since procuring the blade I have been unable to recall where his shop was. I could have sworn I knew exactly where it was, but I just cannot find it. Not a single sign!
I am going to hide the blade until Mr. Rikantus returns. I will follow the grog run song of my old mill mates. It's the only way I can remember the burying spot. The spot we always buried our extra coin.
"Grain to grog. Grog to patch. Smelling like a rose we're off on east moor for a tasty brunch catch. Grain to grog. Grog to gullet. Dive from the bridge and catch a mullet. Swim 'round and through the west drain. Climb up the hill and nap behind goblin's bane. Rise and shine. Up and wake. Grog and grain there's more to make."