1866-08-30 Beer and Loathing
Beer and Loathing
Summary: In dark Lonnaire, Gastogne nurses regrets and alcohol. Mostly the second.
Date: 1866-08-30
Related: None

It was one of those cheap inns. The type where the alcohol was cheap, and that was about all it really had to say for it. Nursing away his troubles, Gastogne was otherwise in tip-top form.

If misery of the self-inflicted sort had a form.

Some men claimed their faults. Some men stood up to them. Some men were controlled by them. Some were agonized by them. Some were defined by them.

Gastogne was made by them. Made up of them, making them up as he went along.

Drinking away his failures (mostly evident), his shortcomings (mostly present), and his lack of opportunities (mostly imagined), he glanced down at the contents of his wallet.

His debt was growing, and he was not making much progress. He had to get in another score soon or the Lady would have /words/ with him. The type of words that would end with missing fingers, visits from Wraiths, and all sorts of torments that could only end with his head upon a pike.

The very scary lady had not given him instructions in awhile, but that did not mean his debt was not growing. And he had no luck with turning up his own scores.

For Gastogne, now that the city was emptying as people had left with the passing of the celebration and tournaments, it meant that opportunities had fled with them and he had not made anything quick off them.

With a whimper, it meant that he would have to try otherwise to do something to refill what passed for his wallet and his coffers before the time due for payment came, or he had to pay in ways far more painful than just coin.

It was time to see if the Bard would take his calls once more.

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