Chapter 1: Far from home

[shadowstar]

'The past seven years have gone by so quickly,' I think to myself. I take a drink from my mug as I sit in the back of a quiet tavern I find myself in. 'Stuff still tastes awful,' I think as I gulp down the rest of my drink. I don't like the stuff, but it helps numb the pain when I think about that day...

[Northen Light36]

"Aren't you drinking a bit much of that stuff, kid?" asks a gruff voice. "It's a bit early in the day, don't you think?"

[shadowstar]

I look up towards the person who spoke. "It's just my first one," I reply. "And I don't come to these places often, just when I'm feeling down." Thankful for the distraction from my dark thoughts, my mood begins to lighten.

[Northen Light36]

"Saying it's 'just your first one' suggests you intend to have more," counters a broad shouldered man, sitting down across from you. "So my point still stands. What's got you so down you need to drink this early in the day?"

[shadowstar]

"Memories," I tell the man. "This stuff helps numbs the pain, but I hate how it tastes."

[Northen Light36]

"Ah kid, there are better ways to get over something then drowning in drink," the man replies. "Why don't you tell old John here, that's me, what your troubles are?" Old John learns back in his chair and looks expectantly at you, waiting to hear your story.

[shadowstar]

I tell Old John my story.

(Read prologue for story, I'm not typing it all out again.)

[Northen Light36]

Old John nods thoughtfully at the end of the story. "That's a terrible story, and from one as young as you too... But surely it would be better for you if you perhaps found work, trained hard and then took down they who stole your family and home rather then drowning your sorrows here?"

[shadowstar]

I look at the ceiling and smile. "Don't worry, I only get like this once every 2 or 3 months," I say, trying to reassure the old man. "Anyways, it's not like I can work hard. That cut on my arm also tore my muscles, so now I can't lift anything much heavier than a large plate of food with it, and I definitely can't fight with it."

[Northen Light36]

"Then perhaps you would like to work for me?" suggests old John. "I'm a travelling scribe, writing down important events, letters or anything else I'm paid to write down. I could always use someone to copy my writing, sort my pens and help keep track of who owes me money. It's a job that only needs one good hand and a brain, and brings in plenty of coin."

[shadowstar]

I look curiously at Jack, "You know, it's not nice to listen in on someone else's conversation. Besides, I've got enough work as a travelling artist. It pays enough." I return my attention to old John, "I think I'm done moping around for the day, got to go earn my pay."

[Northen Light36]

"Just lay off the drink kid," chuckles old John. "You seem to be seeing things. Good luck with your work."

(*smirk*)

[shadowstar]

(You editted your post 2 days after I posted a reply. I refuse to be insulted like this and refuse to continue until the post is returned to how it was originally, and a proper reply given.)