Beasts Escape Humour Mansion/Estate Mystery/Detective Surreal/Bizarre Winter/Snow
Following his jubilant triumph over this challenging brigand, which left him with a well filled purse, Garrett has, more or less, given himself up to the pleasures of the senses ... and especially ... Read more
Gaëtane (Gat)
Missions
Author
Following his jubilant triumph over this challenging brigand, which left him with a well filled purse, Garrett has, more or less, given himself up to the pleasures of the senses ... and especially that of precious wines.
Without a doubt this city pleases him to no end ... once it has been wiped clean of all vermin, that is. The King of Thieves would then be able to reign unfettered, without any mishaps or other torments except those that could be inflicted on him by the guard-dogs belonging to the local lord, Sir DeLoret. Why should he give up this chance to live an easy, carefree life ... to a ripe old age and death only from natural causes?
The taverns are accomodating; the pieces of gold jingle the most beautiful music; and the perfume from the wines flatter the most subtle of spirits. That's more than enough for our friend. Although ... do we really have to talk about subtleties ... because it's on this that everything is anchored? Pleasure is only better if it is entered into parsimoniously (i.e., with excessive frugality), but this adage has not found an adept in the person of our dear Garrett for whom the notion of pleasure is too rare for him to disdain its last crumbs. All that wine, all those lights, those smiles .... That Smile ! Nevertheless one time does not make it a habit.
It's on waking up the following morning, his skull feeling like it was being crushed by an anvil, that the first question comes to his spirit. "Where am I?" His head crackling with thousands of painful darts, he attempts a few clumsy steps. A vain effort. He falls heavily on the unfamiliar bed. May pestilence take those deceitful liquors! These walls, this dresser, this room! It was all perfectly strange to him. And the young beauty of the night before, who could perhaps have helped him to fill in the blanks in his bruised memory, is a long time gone.
From far away sounds come to him, dampened and timid; the shuffling of feet, a whistle, the spewing out of phlegm ... familiar sounds. He leans forward. Now that he is sitting, the world capsizes anew. My God! He has to pull himself together at all costs and to smother the thunder from an evening of abusive excess! His hand shakes convulsively on the bedframe and he observes his surroundings anew with a shifty, sickly eye.
It's at that moment that he becomes conscious of one thing, of something so terrifying that glacial drops of perspiration begin to spread between his shoulder-blades. His equipment! He has FORGOTTEN HIS EQUIPMENT! At the tavern no doubt. Have mercy! Did the wine have to be so potent or the woman be so beautiful that he would find himself far from familiar surroundings and moreover stripped of all protection?
Thus by cursing himself he finally finds the will power to get up and to set off towards the door. As he sticks his head through the open doorway he takes a look around and figures that he appears to be in a manor. Naturally his next thought is... What kind of things couldn't I do on these premises!!!
What joy! He still had his lockpicks!
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