�My name is Jack. I am a worgin.�
The journal began in large, sloppy letters formed into lines that sloped down to the right. Much like the penmanship, the wording and grammar was juvenile or uneducated and ill practiced.
�I am from Gilneus. Me mum ate me sister when worgin attakd. She bit me. I tryed to resque my sister. Da shot her. Da was ate by Forsakin. So was brother.
I want to be famus. I hunt monsters. I will be famus monster hunter 1 day. I will be rich cus I was por in Gilneus. Da did fishing. Mum was a seem�
�What�cha got there, girl? You writin� in your diary?� A cloud of alcohol soaked breath wafted over Jack�s face. �Writin� about boys, are ya? Hmm? Look at that there�� His eyes were dropping to the page, but Jack closed the journal up before he could read past the first line.
Silently, she cursed at herself for her choice of tavern for a rest, but Redridge offered little in the way of options. It was either deal with the laborers coming off shift or sleep outside. Not that she was opposed to sleeping outside, but she needed supplies as well and a real bed made a nice change.
�Jack, eh? Y�know that�s a boy�s name.� He slurred and rubbed his stubble-covered cheek against her ear.
�The fuck you playin� at?� Jack inquired with thick notes of Gilneas clinging to her words. �You askin� to have a bad day?�
�Nah, I�m askin� to have a goo-� His words were cut off, interrupted by a strange, uncomfortable sound that came from the back of the throat. The drunk�s hands hovered over her shoulders, frozen in their action as Jack held her pencil firmly inside his nose.
�You�re askin� to have a real bad day, mate.� Jack said as she rose from her chair.
The chair had been set low to the ground and the table provided deceptive cover on most of her form. From the drunk worker�s approach and ale goggles, she seemed little more than a leather-clad adventurer looking for down time. Her face was happy and young, no more than twenty years, with thick, auburn hair tied back in a ponytail.
The worker quickly re-evaluated his decisions as the happy-looking lady across the room had risen to a muscular woman just over six feet in height. A seemingly harmless traveler at first suddenly presented several threats on her person that required a full assessment. Though it was hard for him to pick out what should have held his attention the most. There was a pistol cinched in her belt, a mean hunting knife on her hip, and the present fact that she still had him at her will with a pencil lodged in his nose.
�For one, it�s short for Jacqueline. Two, how �bout I smash you in the bollocks �til they pop out�cher mouth?� She smiled like she heard a joke, silently applauding herself for the line, and raised her brows expectantly. The worker put his hands up in defeat and earned the mercy of Jack withdrawing the pencil from his nostril.
�No disrespect, Miss Jack. Just a man lookin� for company.�
�Aye? Been told I provide enrichin� conversation. Why don�t you go get me a pint to make up for this little transgression and I�ll tell you something from home.� She brushed her hand in the air towards the counter as she settled into her chair once more.