A full year had passed since he marched up that freaking mountain. His lodging rested at the base of the mountain, which he hiked up at least twice a month or every other weekend. No transportation other than his own two feet brought him up those mountain trails. Tourists would always come up those trails leaving their crap whether it was trash, uneaten food, pieces of clothing, flasks, bottles, and pocket change that fell out. Some times a full wallet would be left here by some blind father or hotshot who thinks he is the coolest thing until he flips his lid like a scared kid after losing his wallet loaded with cash. There was no need for wallets or those cards inside them. Stuff was cheap here if you were a local here.
Last year he found one wallet the very moment the owner came speeding back to retrieve it. As always someone accused him of stealing it. What do they not get about finders keepers? You lose something or leave something and someone else claims it you have already lost it. It is no longer yours unless you try to get it back in many cases they do. Out of the goodness of his heart and that he already has material to make another one anyways he gives it back. There was almost never a thank you just a snatch from his hands and getting back into the car with that wife yelling or screaming to quiet the kids down.
Something kept him from going up that mountain this year. His neighbors thought this was queer. Everyone sees him go up those mountain trails at least once a week or twice a month. Those whole entire year he did not show up at the trail. Instead they see him around the village of 298 people and counting. He was the village prowler and the county's explorer who did jobs here and there. For a whole year he stayed in the village working at the outdoor shop and the gas station at night. What kept him from going up to the mountain this year was anyone's guess.
At the time it was late evening he ended his shift and closed the shop. It was not early it was the usual time he had to close the shop. Pocketing the keys he returned to his lodge where he lived alone for the past four years. There were times he received visitors such as merchants who lost their way, fellow prowlers, explorers searching for a path on the map, some gorgeous looking adventurers with curves and lethal weapons. A party of would be heroes or knights would be sent to him to locate a certain landmark or path they were trying to find. Those days were almost behind him, as a new age dawned and the area flourished a little. In his head he knew it was only a matter of time before it happened again. This area would be full of monsters, bandits, and marauders.
At the lodging he lived in he found his large buff tabby cat waiting for him. His fury companion nibbled at his latest catch. he greeted the Prowler with a meow and a long whine that says "Open this door and let me in!" which is what he translated. He opened the door letting the cat inside. Most of his muscles ached from a long day at work. Dropping everything the Prowler went into his room and opened a closet door to reveal an object which he brought back from his latest trip up the mountain. A statuette of a strange item with a hole inside it. From that hole exited a spirit of a woman who danced, played with him, massaged him, and pleased him.
Last year he found one wallet the very moment the owner came speeding back to retrieve it. As always someone accused him of stealing it. What do they not get about finders keepers? You lose something or leave something and someone else claims it you have already lost it. It is no longer yours unless you try to get it back in many cases they do. Out of the goodness of his heart and that he already has material to make another one anyways he gives it back. There was almost never a thank you just a snatch from his hands and getting back into the car with that wife yelling or screaming to quiet the kids down.
Something kept him from going up that mountain this year. His neighbors thought this was queer. Everyone sees him go up those mountain trails at least once a week or twice a month. Those whole entire year he did not show up at the trail. Instead they see him around the village of 298 people and counting. He was the village prowler and the county's explorer who did jobs here and there. For a whole year he stayed in the village working at the outdoor shop and the gas station at night. What kept him from going up to the mountain this year was anyone's guess.
At the time it was late evening he ended his shift and closed the shop. It was not early it was the usual time he had to close the shop. Pocketing the keys he returned to his lodge where he lived alone for the past four years. There were times he received visitors such as merchants who lost their way, fellow prowlers, explorers searching for a path on the map, some gorgeous looking adventurers with curves and lethal weapons. A party of would be heroes or knights would be sent to him to locate a certain landmark or path they were trying to find. Those days were almost behind him, as a new age dawned and the area flourished a little. In his head he knew it was only a matter of time before it happened again. This area would be full of monsters, bandits, and marauders.
At the lodging he lived in he found his large buff tabby cat waiting for him. His fury companion nibbled at his latest catch. he greeted the Prowler with a meow and a long whine that says "Open this door and let me in!" which is what he translated. He opened the door letting the cat inside. Most of his muscles ached from a long day at work. Dropping everything the Prowler went into his room and opened a closet door to reveal an object which he brought back from his latest trip up the mountain. A statuette of a strange item with a hole inside it. From that hole exited a spirit of a woman who danced, played with him, massaged him, and pleased him.
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