Debris covered the shore line, constantly pushing at the beach with each lap of the waves. A dozen sailors were still fishing out intact crates and salvageable material from several small boats, while a few more were waist deep in the water gathering what else they could.
The modestly dressed man moved along the coast line, eyes scanning the beach. He carried a small walking stick which he used to pick through the washed up materials. These sailors are from the crew, so it must be here somewhere. A wave lapped at his boot and he grimaced, a reminder of the salt stains that had soaked into most of his items.
Several startled cries drew his attention long enough for him to look in time to see one of the boats upend as a cruelly timed wave hit the craft as it pulled aboard a large container. Several of the men fell into the water. He stared curiously at the matter for a moment and then resumed his search along the beach for his lost items. Many of the passengers goods at been lost when the boat had been pushed upon the rocks. He had only a few of his clothes, his dagger, and the gold and silver he had kept on his person. More importantly several of his books had been in his belongings, the cryptic scrawls would mean little to most but those who would understand him. He shivered slightly at the thought of who might run across them.
He returned his gaze to the beach where several sailors pulled one of their comrades out of the water. It appeared he was gravely hurt, swallowed to much water perhaps. They pushed on his chest and tried to get him to breathe though it appeared all for naught. The younger man looked for a moment and sighed - then with his walking stick scrawled a runic symbol into the sand and dropped to one knee where he touched it. The symbol hummed slightly
(Breath of Air) and the man on the beach coughed heavily and water came out of his mouth. A few cheers and cries of good fortune could be heard from the concerned sailors.
The kneeling man wiped away the symbol in the sand and picked through some of debris nearby. He stood, cursed his luck aloud, and then returned to his search, hoping that any who may have seen him would assume he had been digging in the sand for his items. He grumbled slightly as he moved along the beach again - the bag with his books and belongings were no where to be found, though he had found a few other useful items - tinder and flint, a small pack filled with items he'd yet to look at - no doubt mostly useless but better than having nothing.
Pulling his cloak about him as the breeze picked up and whipped him with a heavy mist of water he turned away and headed up the beach - the light was dropping quickly despite the early hour, something he was not accustomed too. The Captain knew where his room was - perhaps some of his goods had found their way there.
The walk was short - the inn was only a few meters above the seawall and seemed to creak and groan with every push of the wind. Still, his room didn't leak - he hoped. Stepping out of the wind he passed through the tavern, ordering a meal from the serving wench before he climbed the stairs to his room.
Once he settled in he looked around - securing the windows and covering them with heavy blinds and his own cloak for added privacy - nodded slightly that the room was safe from those seeking to see what others do, he quickly scrawled a rune in the air and touched it (Candle Light) where it flared red and disappeared. The candle on his desk flared up and remained lit. Nodding to himself he sat down, pulled his precious book from it's spot under his garments and opened it up, reading over the elaborate runes within while he waited for the arrival of his meal.
Completing these actions has resulted in the following changes:
3.00 concentration expended
3.00 energy expended
3 XP in Create gained
2 XP in Air gained
1 XP in Fire gained
