[These words are painstakingly scratched onto the parchment in watery uneven strokes]
The Armor of the Savior's Hide may safeguard you against the sting of the Spear of Bitter Mercy. It turns the blow of an oath-breaker and guarded me against Dagon's hand, but not against his venomous intellect.
Alas, my memory is clouded. So much time has passed since I took the pieces and hid them from my own sight. I fear I have done the task too well.
I never wished to see the armor again, much less suspected it might be needed by another.
Enough of regrets. These faint snatches are as much as I recollect through the years of madness. Make of them what you will.
One piece I recall in a place high over the water, a narrow margin, between two plumb drops, one below, one above, looking down on the lookout and the faint creaking of timbers.
Another is somewhere similar, within stagger of the first but in the center of a people-home. Where folk would gather, full of music and laughter and the slop of water of life, high above the water and ringed all about with stone.
The third I placed in a most wet and inaccessible locale, for I had no thought for decay and the crust of nature. All about was the sound of the great blue and slits of light fell through to the water below. My friends would cast nets and lines to catch food from here, but I cannot fetch out the name of it.
The fourth lies within the mountain, in the tall tower, in the darkness beyond the curtain of water.
The fifth waits in cold darkness down below.
The last sailed up into the sky, and there revolved at the call of the wind. I tacked it to the canvas, so I know not if it still hangs there.