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Old 06-25-2006, 05:24 PM   #91
Envinyatar
Quill Revenant
 
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Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: Wandering through the Downs.....
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● Jack Greymoss ●

Jack grinned as he looked about the room the Innkeeper had shown him to. This was so far removed from his recent accommodations, sleeping on the road, that he almost could not take it in.

‘G’wan, me lucky boy! Pinch yourself! Just to make sure.’

He stood stock still in the middle of the little braided rug and turned about the room slowly. He closed his eyes and popped them open once again. And yes, he did give himself a mighty pinch.

But the room was still there; the floor solid under his feet; sunlight filtering through pressed white curtains . . .clean ones! And not just some tattered rags . . ..

‘Step lightly, boyo,’ he warned himself in a low voice. ‘Winds of luck blow one way and then t’other just as quickly.’

He pulled out the chair from the little table that sat by the door and sat down gingerly, still afraid the bubble of fortune would burst and this all prove a dream. The chair held; off came the boots, followed by a pair of very dirty, tattered socks. He stretched out his feet before him, noting the callouses on his heels; the blisters on his toes; and the layers of variegated grime over all. His socks he wadded into a ball and threw on the floor by the chest at the end of the bed. The boots he put near his bed . . . just in case . . .

From his boots he took his leather pouch with its lock-picks and laid it on the table top. His empty leather pouch that hung from his belt was piled alongside it. His knife soon joined it, along with his sling from his pants' pocket and the rocks he’d gathered for it.

He decided to leave on his breeches and his tunic. Never knew when a body needs to exit quickly he'd learned through hard experience. His greasy leather vest with its many pockets was hung haphazardly over the back of the chair, his fingers first taking an account of his possessions there – his one coin in an inner pocket; in another a pretty little gold necklace and a small silver ring set with a light blue stone; a much folded piece of parchment on which were drawn a crude map with an X marked near a twisty-drawn tree by a river were stuffed tightly in yet another. The last pocket held a few more small items of jewelry – a cameo broach, a few loose pearls, and a pair of small gold loop earrings.

His beat up leather pack he didn’t bother to go through. It held only things for living rough. A flint and striker in a small box with some fine wood shavings, stubby candles, a finger line for fishing, some rope and a few other odds and ends. He shoved the pack into a corner and leaned his walking stick against the wall near it.

That bed sure looked inviting. And Jack was walking toward it when he heard voices in the hall and the sounds of feet drawing near his door . . .

Last edited by Envinyatar; 06-25-2006 at 05:28 PM.
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