Closed A Stroke of Luck (Kechaiya)

[William Hart]

23rd, Fall, 514 AV

Somehow he'd made it back to the Sunset Quarter. Back to relative safety, if there was such a thing. Sweat beaded William's brow and his breathing was labored. His shuffling steps had turned to a slow stagger, and the stitches in his leg had long ago ripped. Blood oozed from the partially treated wound in his thigh, burning and searing painfully with each jarring limp. He was just on the outskirts of the ramshackled blob of houses now, and still had a ways to go. He looked down the dirty street winding ahead of him. Rows of sagging, dirty old houses lined what wouldn't be considered more than a grimy alley anywhere but Sunberth.

A handful of people were about but they ignored him for the most part. A few watchful eyes examined him up and down as he shuffled past, halfheartedly hoping he'd keel over right there so they could search him for valuables. William walked a while longer before he finally stopped. He realized a little absently that he hadn't been paying attention to any of the turns he'd taken, or any general direction. He looked around slowly, not recognizing the street he was on.

"Petch," he mumbled.

He didn't have the strength to go any further. He knew that, and a small part of him was glad to give up and sit down. Will tried to go down slowly, easing into a comfortable position propped against one of the houses by the street, but his leg protested and he ended up on his side in the muck. Defeated, he lay there a moment, looking up at the sky visible between the gaps between roofs. Someone would come along eventually, he assumed. Good or bad, that he didn't know.

His stomach rumbled while he lay stretched out in the mud, bringing some sense back to him. At least a little purpose. William remembered idly that he still had his loaf of bread tucked protectively in his coat. How it had survived the fight and made it this far the Gods only knew. With a tired groan and equally exhausted effort he propped himself back up and put his back to the rough siding of the house nearest to him.

When he pulled the bread from his coat he saw that half of it had been smashed when he fell, but it still looked relatively clean. And edible. That was the most important part. The loaf had long before grown cold, but he didn't care anymore. With a little renewed eagerness he ripped off an end and took a bite. The outside was rough and crisp, but the inside was spongy and made his mouth water. When the crust broke the smell brought a smile to his face, and he sighed with contentment as he chewed.

If he died of infection within the next week, at least he could think back and know he enjoyed this little treat.

[Kechaiya]

Grader's NoteI could not find a price for Potatoes in the Price List or any location that sells food in any city (I also know the lovely Ctrl + F trick). I asked chat and Caelum said she thought Potatoes were 5sm/lb. As such, I'm pricing them at 3sm/lb since Kech is purchasing them from the Castle Commons where foodstuffs are half listed price. If this is an issue, please let me know. Thanks

Kechaiya was straining under the weight of a sack of potatoes she'd just purchased from the Castle Commons for three golds. It was slung over her shoulder, gripped tightly with both hands, but it was putting an ache and burn in her back, stomach, buttocks, and thigh muscles. There was a light layer of sweat on her brow and a slight huff in her breath as she slumped beneath the Sunberthian sun. There had been an insane amount of violence this season between the smaller gangs of Sunberth, and the larger ones were to busy with their own problems to put them down. As such, Kechaiya had decided to stock up on some basic food that would keep for a while, in case it would be too dangerous to get more.

She didn't know any fancy ways of preparing a potato, so she normally just plopped it in a pot of boiling water, sometimes with a few herbs if she could spare them. Some times it cooked all the way through, sometimes it didn't but she had never found it particularly bothersome. But all this thinking about made her stomach grumble, and she promised to make herself one when she got home. Stopping for a brief moment, she readjusted the sack, hiking it up to make it more comfortable. As she did so, her eyes caught something interesting in the ground in front of her. There were a few droplets of blood. It looked fairly fresh, not dried out, still liquid, not soaked in yet. Looking up, her eyes scanned the street, looking for anyone who appeared to be injured.

Seeing none, she looked back down to the ground. The blood drops seemed to be accompanying a pair of footprints. They were long, curved and heavy in the heel. She suspected that they were boots, but that didn't tell her much since practically everyone wore boots. Looking ahead of her current focal point, she could see more blood droplets. A trail? Sensing a possible customer, Kech followed it, only to not see any more blood. But she could follow the footprints. There were many others, but this set seemed on top of others, which she suspected meant it was fresher. She followed these, occasionally finding more blood droplets.

She turned a corner, casting her gaze up to make sure she wasn't going to bump into anyone. Then her foot stepped on something that was both firm and a bit squishy, and her footing was lost, and she crumpled downward in a heap atop another person. A string of Tawna curses flew from her mouth, loosely translated to something involving the rather ugly mother of a Benshira and a very tooth Tsana. Thankfully, she'd managed to keep a grip on her sack of potatoes so they didn't spill out, and she now started trying to pull her limps from what now appeared to be a man. Standing up rather ungracefully, she realized it was a man. Her thick Eyktolian accent spewing forth, "I sorry, no see you sit th.." That was when her eyes noticed his bloody thigh. "You hurt? I doctor."