Blom poured hisself a tankard o’ Heemee’s Finest and dropped it into his mouth with the force of a waterfall in the Spring. It splashed around and he quickly got hisself another. Heemee had long departed the region and left behind almost nothin’ in the way of a replacement, some sorta wine merchant was surprise surprise not so easy to find these days. The ones who had the skills guarded them on account of them bein’ valuable skills to keep.

“Aye Blom,” muttered ol’ Farmer Gack as he staggered through the door of the Ragged Maiden, his walkin’ stick charred and chipped from all the activity it had seen of late. No need to talk about that. Stay in the scene please.

A candle (or torch in fact, for it was indeed a torch), guttered in the draft that Gack let in. “Close that door, Gack, ya faffer!!” chastised Blom.

“All right all right, Blom, if it suits ya I’ll close the door like I ALWAYS DO,” snapped Gack. It slammed closed with a catastrophic blast. The torch went out in the sudden gust and Blom sighed.

“What’s the word then, aye,” muttered Blom, more to his tankard than to Gack, who picked up on the message and instead of replying, sighed himself. Blom winced in discomfort. His hip had worsened in the intervening years since his hip had availed itself as an issue, and Blom rued the day, RUED THE DAY, he decided to live with it and not seek out the attention it might’ve needed. Well the only treatment now was Heemee and more of Heemee.

“Quiet out there of late,” said Gack, more to himself than to the Blom or the empty common room. “Business bein’ what it is, I’d say we’re lucky to have an inn at all.” Gack left unspoken the things he wanted to speak, but knew that leaving them unspoken was as good as speaking them, so he did not speak them and instead left them unspoken. It was a social skill.

“Aye,” said Blom. He pushed hisself away from the counter and donned his walkin’ cloak. He wanted to do some walkin’. “Closin’ up, Gack. Afraid it’s time to head out.”

Blom started the next paragraph outside. There was no easy way to make the transition so he began walking down the deserted Gilba Gilba street. The lamps were unlit because the Lamplighters were not lightin’ them lamps! A man and a dog were walking but they neither of them paid any attention to Blom. He wasn’t sure why he noticed them because they had left his sight and mind already. It was a needless observation. NOTHING was worth observing now, thought Blom as he limped down the Gilba Gilba thoroughfare.