Post by Paul Rogers on Nov 29, 2008 22:46:02 GMT -8
What with the recent events, Paul prepares to return to Lochling. After packing his meager belongings and saying good bye to the barkeep who has dealt with his ramblings the past month, Paul heads out towards lochling. Remembering his five and a half day flight to Soldrien, Paul plans on taking a full week to cover the same distance.
Of course, he absolutely MUST stop by the sandwich restaurant that kept his stomach full during his month long rest in Soldrien. After sitting and chatting with the locals for nearly an hour Paul decides he had better leave.
On his way out of town he passes the tavern again.
"Why the heck not," passes his lips as he heads inside. Dropping a small coin Paul sits comfortably down in the same chair he had occupied every evening for the last three weeks.
An hour passes. Then another. The coin continues to land on the table, and conversations fill the air of the small room. Eventually, the small room takes on more occupants. Paul is in his element. A round of drinks is bought for the crowd.
And another hour slips by.
...
"...and that's when I knew," Paul continued, to the small crowd gathered around him, "that I would... I would HAVE to give my life to theshe Attercobshes."
"There we were, just me and that mosht honorabull Jean Witten... and a Gypsysh.... the three of ush, down in the sewersh..." Paul takes a moment from his story and looks around at the assembled crowd. "Just ima.. just imagine"
*drink*
"dark in all the far cornersh... a few torchesh glowling on the wallsh..." Paul shifts his attention to the finest lady in the gathered group, and as if to emphasize his point, nods his head slightly towards her. "Then..."
*drink*
"they takes Jean by the hair and put their... shword right onta his neck... the screamsh I tell you, they used to wake me at night..."
Paul waits for dramatic effect as the crowd grows larger by a person or two.
Paul downs the last swallow of his ale. "You know, I can almosht still fehl the plashe wheres they cut my neck" He says as he rubs the side of his neck with the palm of his hand. "Anywaysh... where was I going with thisin? Oh yes, that'sh right, I'm going aback to Lochling..." Paul glances out the window at the fading light. "But then agin, mebbe I'm jusht staying here another night...uh."
With that, Paul orders another drink and engages in pithy conversation with the bar patrons.
Of course, he absolutely MUST stop by the sandwich restaurant that kept his stomach full during his month long rest in Soldrien. After sitting and chatting with the locals for nearly an hour Paul decides he had better leave.
On his way out of town he passes the tavern again.
"Why the heck not," passes his lips as he heads inside. Dropping a small coin Paul sits comfortably down in the same chair he had occupied every evening for the last three weeks.
An hour passes. Then another. The coin continues to land on the table, and conversations fill the air of the small room. Eventually, the small room takes on more occupants. Paul is in his element. A round of drinks is bought for the crowd.
And another hour slips by.
...
"...and that's when I knew," Paul continued, to the small crowd gathered around him, "that I would... I would HAVE to give my life to theshe Attercobshes."
"There we were, just me and that mosht honorabull Jean Witten... and a Gypsysh.... the three of ush, down in the sewersh..." Paul takes a moment from his story and looks around at the assembled crowd. "Just ima.. just imagine"
*drink*
"dark in all the far cornersh... a few torchesh glowling on the wallsh..." Paul shifts his attention to the finest lady in the gathered group, and as if to emphasize his point, nods his head slightly towards her. "Then..."
*drink*
"they takes Jean by the hair and put their... shword right onta his neck... the screamsh I tell you, they used to wake me at night..."
Paul waits for dramatic effect as the crowd grows larger by a person or two.
Paul downs the last swallow of his ale. "You know, I can almosht still fehl the plashe wheres they cut my neck" He says as he rubs the side of his neck with the palm of his hand. "Anywaysh... where was I going with thisin? Oh yes, that'sh right, I'm going aback to Lochling..." Paul glances out the window at the fading light. "But then agin, mebbe I'm jusht staying here another night...uh."
With that, Paul orders another drink and engages in pithy conversation with the bar patrons.