I wer' walking through town an' I saw 'ah man choppin' wood. He 'ad a dog with'em, an' a fat pouch on 'is belt. I chucked 'ah scrap o' meat inter the field t'distract 'is dog an' moved in fer tha' grab.
Oi' cut 'is pouch loose, 'en pointed t'a harpy tha' were thrashing about in the watar. The wood-choppar wen' af'er the Harpy an' I scooped the pouch off th'ground an' made off with 'is gold an' tools - nay t'mention some watar t'hold me o'er until I cin' talk Hoagie 'er Marcus int' givin' me some'at t'eat.
*scrabbled sloppily in an unpracticed hand*
Er Areyn Aeryn O'Niall
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