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Post by Jory Farice on Oct 21, 2012 22:48:45 GMT -5
Jory's home remains near the sea, on the docks of Storm's End. It's a very small place and hardly attractive. The front door is splintered and the walls crack. Inside, the house is even worse with only a simple table with a candle on it and a stack of hay with a blanket over it to sleep on.
The windows are cracked but the light still shines through, though one would prefer not to look at the floors of the place. The floors are simple oak, but are dusty and very dirty and some of the flooring is splintered like the front door. Yet, regardless, Jory finds himself comfortable here.
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Post by Jory Farice on Oct 21, 2012 22:51:56 GMT -5
/// Jory sits in his corner on his hay and looks out the window.
"So late out," he says to himself. Jory turns over and unsheathes his family's blade, looking at the shine of the candle light against the fine steel. "I'll figure out everything when this is done. Jory Farice will not die here forgotten."
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Post by Jory Farice on Oct 22, 2012 11:28:49 GMT -5
/////// Jory awoke to the smell of hay and fish. He looked to see the light shining through his window and the candle on his table burnt out. He rose and began to crack his back. Another uncomfortable night, he thought to himself. Jory walked out and took in the smells of the ocean. It was something he had always enjoyed, however short a time he had lived here and the saltiness of the ocean had a way of exciting him, opening ideas of adventuring. And perhaps I will soon enough.
Jory went back inside to grab his sword and put it tightly in his belt. The blade was simple enough, slender and about as long as his leg. His memories of home were gone, but he knew how to wield a blade still. I should start my adventure now, he thought. Jory enjoyed his simple life in the run down house he called home, but he would not be able to live off of the nearly melted cheese and crusty bread forever, he would need work and money in order to survive.
Jory went out and closed the door behind him, not caring for locks, and began to wander Westeros. He knew he would never return to his house.
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