Post by vince on Oct 26, 2020 16:37:53 GMT
The smuggler’s journal, entry #253
Working on my past self’s note today (The smuggler’s journal, entry #252). Need a distraction to avert people’s focus from me and onto something else in order to avoid unwarranted sketches or conversations of me from occurring. My thought process was to get an animal companion as they have the following advantages over a hired lackey:
• They’re far more loyal (to the hands that feed them)
• They are relatively cheap to care for
• They don’t argue back
• They listen to your command better
• They have keener senses
• Can fly (depending on species)
• Can double as a sleeping pillow (depending on species)
• They can’t report you to a union for occasional unpaid work
• They generally look better
So an animal companion it is. Unfortunately for me, it’s slim picking in the city. There were rabid stray cats, rats and dogs and the occasional racoon but none of the ones I seen piqued my interest. Though the racoons was very tempting. Sly little bastards. I like them. I’ll leave more crumbs the next time I pass by their hang out.
Slightly disheartened by what the city had to offer I ventured out of the city gates to get some fresh air.
Walking down the beaten road for a good 2 miles or so, I came upon a quaint little farm with an interesting sign at the front. “Pups for purchase” was scribed onto an old beaten plank with a carving knife. Paint now a days was relatively cheap so it was strange to see a hand scribed sign now a days.
Upon walking up to the worn out door I began to pick up more signs of general disuse of the farm. Weed ridden untilled land to the left of the house; rotten and broken fence segments surrounding the premises and a large crack running through the bricked well at the front of the house. The house itself looks like it has seen better days. Broken roof tiles adorn the top of the warped wooden walls and support beams. Window shutters hanging off broken hinges, partially covering the shattered glass windows. Wouldn’t be surprised if you told me it was a haunted house.
Arriving at the front of the house I knocked loudly at the door and was surprised to hear a weary but bright mellow voice come from the other side of the door, “Who is it? What do you want?”
I responded stating that I was here for the advertised pup. At this point I questioned to myself whether there was even any pups left. It seemed from the state of the house that whomever lived here might have been so desperate in their struggle for survival that eating the pups out of savage necessity was almost be warranted.
But upon unbolting the locks on the door (The meandering though of why someone would put a lock on a door that a wind can break in half baffled me) the view of a young, though weary looking, man betrayed my previous expectations. He welcomed me into his home (after reaffirming my reason of visit) and upon stepping in I was welcomed by the sight of pillars of boxes strewn across a still dilapidated reception room. He explained to me that he and his wife (who was upstairs) moved in only a day ago to start a new life here. Both he and his wife were from well-known farming families and were offered by the council of DH a chance to try their hands in farming at a new continent with the opportunity to work with foreign crops and soil. Enticed by the chance of adventure (go figure, who knew you can be adventurous as a farmer) the couple decided to move as soon as possible to not let the opportunity pass by. Unfortunately at the time of their departure, they found out their prized Border Collie that they were taking to their new home was pregnant with pups. Deciding to sell the litter upon arrival to help with repair cost of their new home they dismissed the idea of leaving the Collie with one of their families and carry on with their journey as before.
After hearing their tale, the couple showed me the litter that their Collie produced.
All of them were wonderful specimen of their breed, all showing lovely healthy coats and eyes. One in particular caught my fancy. I don’t know if it was the confidence in its eyes or the cuteness of his bunny like ears, but this one hit a soft spot that I didn’t know I still had. I picked it up and looked straight at its eyes with a stare that often led the strongest of men cry and beg for mercy. All the little runt did was stare back and smirked. I didn’t know dogs can do that.
I handed the farmer 6 gold and walked out of the farm with the pup in my arms and didn’t look back. 6 gold would normally be too much for an untrained pup.
But looking at the little dagger I just picked up, I know I can sharpen it to be the deadliest weapon I have in my possession.
As I was walking back to town from the farm I had a thought that I didn’t want to entertain…Wouldn’t having something this cute attract more attention from people?
I look at the bundle of fur I was carrying in my arms… Maybe having dagger would end up hurting me in the end?
Working on my past self’s note today (The smuggler’s journal, entry #252). Need a distraction to avert people’s focus from me and onto something else in order to avoid unwarranted sketches or conversations of me from occurring. My thought process was to get an animal companion as they have the following advantages over a hired lackey:
• They’re far more loyal (to the hands that feed them)
• They are relatively cheap to care for
• They don’t argue back
• They listen to your command better
• They have keener senses
• Can fly (depending on species)
• Can double as a sleeping pillow (depending on species)
• They can’t report you to a union for occasional unpaid work
• They generally look better
So an animal companion it is. Unfortunately for me, it’s slim picking in the city. There were rabid stray cats, rats and dogs and the occasional racoon but none of the ones I seen piqued my interest. Though the racoons was very tempting. Sly little bastards. I like them. I’ll leave more crumbs the next time I pass by their hang out.
Slightly disheartened by what the city had to offer I ventured out of the city gates to get some fresh air.
Walking down the beaten road for a good 2 miles or so, I came upon a quaint little farm with an interesting sign at the front. “Pups for purchase” was scribed onto an old beaten plank with a carving knife. Paint now a days was relatively cheap so it was strange to see a hand scribed sign now a days.
Upon walking up to the worn out door I began to pick up more signs of general disuse of the farm. Weed ridden untilled land to the left of the house; rotten and broken fence segments surrounding the premises and a large crack running through the bricked well at the front of the house. The house itself looks like it has seen better days. Broken roof tiles adorn the top of the warped wooden walls and support beams. Window shutters hanging off broken hinges, partially covering the shattered glass windows. Wouldn’t be surprised if you told me it was a haunted house.
Arriving at the front of the house I knocked loudly at the door and was surprised to hear a weary but bright mellow voice come from the other side of the door, “Who is it? What do you want?”
I responded stating that I was here for the advertised pup. At this point I questioned to myself whether there was even any pups left. It seemed from the state of the house that whomever lived here might have been so desperate in their struggle for survival that eating the pups out of savage necessity was almost be warranted.
But upon unbolting the locks on the door (The meandering though of why someone would put a lock on a door that a wind can break in half baffled me) the view of a young, though weary looking, man betrayed my previous expectations. He welcomed me into his home (after reaffirming my reason of visit) and upon stepping in I was welcomed by the sight of pillars of boxes strewn across a still dilapidated reception room. He explained to me that he and his wife (who was upstairs) moved in only a day ago to start a new life here. Both he and his wife were from well-known farming families and were offered by the council of DH a chance to try their hands in farming at a new continent with the opportunity to work with foreign crops and soil. Enticed by the chance of adventure (go figure, who knew you can be adventurous as a farmer) the couple decided to move as soon as possible to not let the opportunity pass by. Unfortunately at the time of their departure, they found out their prized Border Collie that they were taking to their new home was pregnant with pups. Deciding to sell the litter upon arrival to help with repair cost of their new home they dismissed the idea of leaving the Collie with one of their families and carry on with their journey as before.
After hearing their tale, the couple showed me the litter that their Collie produced.
All of them were wonderful specimen of their breed, all showing lovely healthy coats and eyes. One in particular caught my fancy. I don’t know if it was the confidence in its eyes or the cuteness of his bunny like ears, but this one hit a soft spot that I didn’t know I still had. I picked it up and looked straight at its eyes with a stare that often led the strongest of men cry and beg for mercy. All the little runt did was stare back and smirked. I didn’t know dogs can do that.
I handed the farmer 6 gold and walked out of the farm with the pup in my arms and didn’t look back. 6 gold would normally be too much for an untrained pup.
But looking at the little dagger I just picked up, I know I can sharpen it to be the deadliest weapon I have in my possession.
As I was walking back to town from the farm I had a thought that I didn’t want to entertain…Wouldn’t having something this cute attract more attention from people?
I look at the bundle of fur I was carrying in my arms… Maybe having dagger would end up hurting me in the end?