Monday, February 7, 2011

Story time!

Thlan focused on the worn leather of the shoe he was supposed to be working on. The contures and cracks were pleasing to his eyes, the light brown leather was worn; flexible and soft but still very durable. The scent of mud and worn leather drifted into his too sharp nose. He lived for this.
The job he was employed to do was easy enough, just a touch up. It shouldn't have cost Farmer Focial more than 12 coppers for Thlan to fix his hole.
Before leaving, Focial let slip the urgency and need for his one good pair of work boots to be fixed in a timely matter. Thlan, as he usually did, took that vital piece of information and used it as a lever to give an inflated price on the repair job, touting such shoe-jargon as "Corrupted Sole" and "new toungue job" Thlan was able to charge no less than 26 copper pieces and a piece of prime cheese. Usually Thlan was able to weasel more than what he got but Thlan had the feeling that this was all the poor farmer could afford so, in his kindness, he gave Focial a break.

Before he knew it the late afternoon and daylight would fad in an hour or two. Thlan wasn't due to quit, at least officially, until nightfall but he figured it was close enough. He stuffed the boots into his "to do pile" and watted over to the common room to see if he could he could get "lucky" and try to lampoon his ugly wife into a reasonably contented-to act of pleasure.
As usual his good for nothing snot-shit of a 9 year-old son was out of the house playing swords with those good-for-nothing payed-for-nothing city guards or, worse, wasting his time in the field of flowers he frequented.

The instant he entered the common room he knew something was wrong. He become much more anxious then usual and his lower lip, now without the thought of keeping it taunt, drooped a good half-inch towards the floor.
As he started to sweat profusely what was left of his conscious mind sluggishly tried to ascertain what was wrong.
As his eyes darted about as a mouse fully encompassed by the "flight" response he caught sight of what was left of his wife.

He was half a mile out of the city limits when his mind, finally, was in a sound enough state for him to be aware of the sounds of children screaming and fire burning.

His pants were soaked