Water. Only water.
For months he didn't see anything else around him, and now that he was close to the destination, the sky had decided that a storm was the best way to celebrate the return in his native land, or what was left.
The ship docked with violence, were still too few people on board to be able to govern properly. But the man had no time to waste to wait for the hubs to place the walkway, then he threw his bag on the platform, and climbed down by a rope to descend.
Passing through the port, he had the impression that all the occupants had not even noticed that it was raining so much, of that rain able to rotting bones in sufficient time even to pee, but that was not the main problem.
Went on, and it pleased him what she saw less and less. The number of beggars and tramps seemed to be increased immeasurably, but fortunately, for their fortune, no one dared to approach him for boredom. It was already quite irritating having to walk with clothes completely wet and glued on the body, and with the cape and the bag filled with water had become three times as heavy.
If his memory told him the truth, not far away from the port would meet The Green Shell, an inn of lowest level so that even the rats preferred to avoid. But right now, the only thing he needed was food, a warm fire and a bed that does not sway the whole night. And if he was pretty lucky, this time would have also found it with no fleas.
He reached the tavern in more time than expected, the rain beat so strong that annoy him on the head even though he had the hood of his cloak pulled forward, in addition the mud that had formed on the road certainly not allow him to go very fast. At the entrance, he noticed that the sign was made worse as he remembered. The shape of a shield was broken on the side of one of the two upper hooks, the design of the shell was almost canceled, and now that piece of wood banging from side to side through the fault of the rain and wind, prompting fears that soon the only remained to hold, it would be off to end up somewhere.
He opened the door without even putting too much force in action, but the wind banged so hard that was a miracle to not to see it fall apart. Close it was much more difficult venture. It took a while to be right of the wind, and be wet to the bone certainly was not of any help.
Once closed the door, however, he tried to maintain the control, and having feel the heat coming from the room, he turned in the direction from which it came, thus seeking the crackling fireplace that was in a corner not too far. What he saw, however, was not at all reassuring. In the visual search of the source of heat, had crossed the looks of at least a dozen men, most of them certainly were not sailors and fishermen. He had on the eyes of all present, even the innkeeper was no longer cleaning the mug in his hand, and staring at him with narrowed eyes.
A moment of indecision, then its first step in the direction of the fire. Maybe, it was only for that moment, that two men rose up looking at him fixedly on the face...
For months he didn't see anything else around him, and now that he was close to the destination, the sky had decided that a storm was the best way to celebrate the return in his native land, or what was left.
The ship docked with violence, were still too few people on board to be able to govern properly. But the man had no time to waste to wait for the hubs to place the walkway, then he threw his bag on the platform, and climbed down by a rope to descend.
Passing through the port, he had the impression that all the occupants had not even noticed that it was raining so much, of that rain able to rotting bones in sufficient time even to pee, but that was not the main problem.
Went on, and it pleased him what she saw less and less. The number of beggars and tramps seemed to be increased immeasurably, but fortunately, for their fortune, no one dared to approach him for boredom. It was already quite irritating having to walk with clothes completely wet and glued on the body, and with the cape and the bag filled with water had become three times as heavy.
If his memory told him the truth, not far away from the port would meet The Green Shell, an inn of lowest level so that even the rats preferred to avoid. But right now, the only thing he needed was food, a warm fire and a bed that does not sway the whole night. And if he was pretty lucky, this time would have also found it with no fleas.
He reached the tavern in more time than expected, the rain beat so strong that annoy him on the head even though he had the hood of his cloak pulled forward, in addition the mud that had formed on the road certainly not allow him to go very fast. At the entrance, he noticed that the sign was made worse as he remembered. The shape of a shield was broken on the side of one of the two upper hooks, the design of the shell was almost canceled, and now that piece of wood banging from side to side through the fault of the rain and wind, prompting fears that soon the only remained to hold, it would be off to end up somewhere.
He opened the door without even putting too much force in action, but the wind banged so hard that was a miracle to not to see it fall apart. Close it was much more difficult venture. It took a while to be right of the wind, and be wet to the bone certainly was not of any help.
Once closed the door, however, he tried to maintain the control, and having feel the heat coming from the room, he turned in the direction from which it came, thus seeking the crackling fireplace that was in a corner not too far. What he saw, however, was not at all reassuring. In the visual search of the source of heat, had crossed the looks of at least a dozen men, most of them certainly were not sailors and fishermen. He had on the eyes of all present, even the innkeeper was no longer cleaning the mug in his hand, and staring at him with narrowed eyes.
A moment of indecision, then its first step in the direction of the fire. Maybe, it was only for that moment, that two men rose up looking at him fixedly on the face...
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