But why is the rum gone
12-02-2018, 12:13 AM
Senka was stone cold sober. In other words it wasn't a good day for her. Apparently she'd managed to pick the one path through Boreas that was devoid of traders selling the products she wanted the most. Couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting someone selling jewelry or pottery or useful shit of some stripe. But fermented goods? The last trader she'd approached had acted as if she'd asked to piss in his mouth. "Mead," he'd gasped distastefully, "Attracts an unsavory crowd." She'd politely told him what she thought of his opinion and managed to walk away without breaking anything or anyone. So there was a silver lining to her sobriety. A half rotted donkey carcass laying sprawled half in, half out of a tar pit managed to attract Senka's attention. She wandered over to it and stopped just shy of stepping on its slack-jawed face. "You look how I feel, buddy. Rough day in the pasture? No, no, no. Lemme guess. Trouble with the missus. Naw, don't tell me you just can't find any booze either." Amused by this one sided conversation, but fully aware of the weirdness of it, Senka plopped down in front of the carcass. She huffed and allowed her gaze to wander over her surroundings. She'd do anything for a change of pace. Or a drink. Whichever she could get her paws on. |