Ross' Booklet: A Drug Fueled Journey

[Beltharean]

The following contains profanity and content unsuitable for children; Ye have been warned.

Ross' journal is a small black moleskin notebook. Ink spots blotch the slightly singed cover of the miniature tome.

Entry One:

Spoiler:

Well... Here I am. I'm nothing. Nothing like I was before I started the fisheries; Like I was back in Undermine. A slave, but instead of a slave to a goblin, I'm stuck a slave to things a damned child could deal with. A slave to my addictions, a slave to my dwindling fortune, a slave to the longings to BE something again.

I... I was The Boss. Boss Ross. Horace was the captain of the ship, thought he called the shots... But even then, I was the one who had the respect of the crew. No one trusted him; They trusted me. And I trusted them back. My bank account grew and grew as the fisheries did. I was on top of the world, and no one could stop me. Then my kingdom came crumbling down around me.

I was taken out by a crew member. Stabbed in the back, poison blade, the works. I managed to blow a hole through that damned undead's skull, f**k if I can remember her name. Some nobody, hoping to climb the ranks of our little Cartel. Our little family. But that just wasn't how it worked... I went down. They went down. We went down.

Some of them died like I did, but others, like my friend Gatwazzak, survived. Horace took his ship and sailed into the ocean to who-knows-where, some going with him. Not many did though. I was stuck in a grave on the outskirts of Ratchet by some of the crew, but in the end, only one stayed loyal; My good friend and close ally, Gatwazzak. He pulled me from the afterlife, that horrid place, back into the realm of the living. Where I could reach out, and touch the fortune of mine I had been waiting for. Feel the warmth of a woman's touch... Even if the only woman I could find for myself was buried deep in debt, drugs, and crime; a slave to goblins running whorehouses. Now THERE'S a profitable business...

[Beltharean]

Entry Two:

Spoiler:

Now diary, journal... What ever the f**k you are to me, nothing at this point, The Fisheries was just a cover to smuggle our drugs and weapons. I wasn't a fisherman, never was never have been never will be. We pushed the drugs and the guns and all that into the hollowed corpses of the fish and brought them into ports. That's how I made my living, through the cartel. And when I came back to life after all that time... Months and months... My cartel was gone.

Thankfully, Gatwazzak started his own group. The Booty Bay Flower Co. He put me into a high position there, but the idea was flawed. We were too stationary, everyone knew where we was, and we knew where they were. That was why the Steamwheedle came down on us. Hard. Gat died, killed by this... Fucking human, some stupid pink-skin, who got put in charge. I left, and started to help the Cartel take the Flower Co. down. I wasn't going to see my friend's empire get turned into jack shit by some human.

Even then though, I wandered off the path. I got lost, and ended up in Ratchet once more. The Ratchet White got the best of me, and I ended up in the streets for a while... Stuck in the gutter, the only thing I thought about was Valkyr Dust and booze. That's when some kid; An orc from the fisheries that we used to make drops found me in the street. He took me back to his place, and got me clean. Sober. Back on my feet. Now, here I am, with nothing. I'm no one. Only a year's passed, yet I've gained a fortune, lost it all, got it back, lost it again... It's like I'm the piston in a Shredder. No matter how hard I try to move up through the Cylinder Head, there's always an explosion waiting for me at the top thrusting me back down to the bottom, you know..?


Of course you don't... You're only a stupid piece of paper.