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~Puzzle Pieces Continued~ |
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Naryn saw a the lights of a town not to far away. She could be there within the hour. As she walked she rubbed the broken arrow, her calloused thumb running over the engraving repeatedly. Countless names ran through her head as she tried to figure out what it meant. With hope in her heart she entered the city and made her way strait to the local tavern. It was called "Le Petite Morte" a french term meaning, "The Little Death". Naryn suspected that it was also a brothel and when she entered she found she had been correct. Buxum women of all sizes and ages draped themselves over the mens laps. There scantily clad legs dangling with the echo of near future pleasures. They wispered in the mens ears promises for gold. Their bussoms sweeling over their corsets with each breath. Naryn wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned to the bar tender. "Wut it be, Lass?" asked the 'tender. He had a slight Dorthonion drawl, diluted with years spent at sea. "I would like a room, please, just for one night. I'll have beans and hocks for dinner and, do happen to have any Amaretto?" The 'tender chuckled at her. "Lady, beans an hocks ye' ken 'ave, but we only serve beer an' wiskey ter drink." Naryn nodded, "Alright, mug of beer then." Then tender smiled crookedly as he turned to get Naryn's order. When he turned back to hand her the meal she had the broken arrow sitting on the bar. His face dropped, and Naryn knew it seemed familiar to him. By a stroke of luck, she had happened upon a clue in the first place she stopped. "You know this?" She asked him. "Aye, Lass. Lemme get a closer look." She pushed the arrow toward him, turning it so he could see the engraving. "Aye, that be from me home land of Dorthonion, howd' ye come upon it lass?" "This is the arrow that killed my father." She said, a touch of anger in her voice. "Oh, ye not be thinkin' ter get revenge now er ya?" "You damne well bet to hell that I am." Her voice was loud enough to cause a couple of the other patrons at the bar to glance at her. The tender drew back a bit, he could see fire in her eyes. He was smart enough to know that a woman scorned was not one to be triffled with. "Do you know exactly where I might be able to find the mangey cur who uses these particular arrows?" She growled at him. "Please me' Lady," his voice was trembling now. "You don' wanna be messin' with da' Lord who's prevides them ther arrows te' his army. E's a powerful man. Yer sure not to get far once he knows yer after 'im." Naryn grabbed the front of the 'tender's tunic and jerked him toward her. "I don't care if I die and long as I die fighting, and if that happens, I'll come back as a ghost and scare the murduring b*****d to death. Dorthonion you say? Well, that's all I need to know. Thanks, Little Man." She shoved him back, downed her beer and tossed a couple coins onto the bar before storming out. The 'tender looked after her, bewildered as he scooped the beans and hocks back into the crock.
MommyMengrove · Wed Aug 09, 2006 @ 03:26am · 2 Comments |
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