Herein contained is set down an excerpt from the memoirs of one Captain Alan Sloshbeard.  Which were in fact stolen by some dirty Scottish noble brat who immediately turned it in to the authorities leaving me high and dry with a fat reward over my head, and by me I mean not me at all because I’m not Sloshbeard. My name is Randulf Slosher I swear I am in no way pantsless or have I ever been a Pirate…now where were those pants.

Hello There Journal,

It was an odd day when I found myself pantsless and hanging by my fingers from a balcony.  I had captured the affections of a noble lady, but I spent more time evading a jealous husband than enjoying said affections.  Stealing the lady’s clothes seemed like the only sensible way out of the situation.  It backfired however.  After introducing myself to his lordship as the lady Alain Sloshing, a close personal friend of his lady wife, I found myself evading an amorous nobleman instead.  In order to get me alone he even went so far as to invite me to the royal palace to see me.  I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to steal from the royal treasury.  I chose to show up, apparently lord what’s-his-name was close enough to the royal family, to borrow a bedroom in the palace, he cornered me in the room, so I broke a chair across his face, and scurried onto the bed. He came up crying, bleeding and professing his undying love for me so this time I leapt from the bed to drop an elbow on his head, too bad for me the bed frame broke under me and I tumbled into his open arms.  I panicked as he went in for the kiss so I tore off my wig and shouted “Wait I’m a bloke I swear. I’ve been shacking up with your wife,” shocking confessions, they work every time! Snarling he tossed me away and went for his dagger, though I did see a sad look in his eyes.  He came at me with the dagger so I picked up the first thing I could grab and beat him unconscious with it, it turned out to be a pair of fancy slippers on a wooden shoe tree.  For lack of a better plan I threw them out a window, and heard a loud splash. I, finding myself disheveled and missing my wig, had to beat a hasty escape so I squeezed out of the window and sort of dropped into a large open barrel of mead.  Sucking royal mead out of my skirts I took off soaking wet into the night.  Stolen mead always tastes best if you ask me.

With fondness and no regrets, the heaven’s honest truth, I swear.

Captain Alan Sloshbeard.