<span class="bbc_u"><strong>Character's Name: "Jolly Jack"</strong></span><br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Location: The Starting Point Tavern</strong></span><br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>With whom: Johara, open</strong></span><br/><br/>"Ahh, you're a flatterer, you know that?" He would say with a smile, both on his face, and in his words, in a manner of speaking.  He stood from his seat as he spoke, took a moment to down the rest of the mulled cider, then pushed his chair in, before offering her his rough, calloused hand; hands that have seen their share of hard work, no doubt. They're even cracked in a few spots, from the weather more likely than not.<br/><br/>Once her hand was within his own, he would guide her through the crowd of people, and towards the stairs. Up they went, the large man moving with no signs of intoxication; a large frame and robust constitution, coupled with drinking lighter alcohol, meant that he was barely tipsy.<br/><br/>It would be down all the way at the end of the second floor hall, before he'd stop, and pull his hand free from hers. He untied one of the many pouches on his belt, and dipped a hand in, removing an old, slightly rusty and tarnished key, which he used to unlock the door. He pushes it open, and allows her to come in after him; once she was in, he'd shut the door.<br/><br/>He didn't seem to have much in the way of personal effects up here. On the small, somewhat dingy table of the room, sat a bedroll, all folded up, next to a portable tent, likewise, all packaged up into an easy-to-carry bundle. On a chair sat a large backpack, which was rugged looking and made from leather; designed to take the sort of abuse that a man who traversed through the wilderness might subject it to.<br/><br/>Off on the nightstand by his bed was a leather sheathe, the contents of which was one rather nicely crafted sword. If she were to look at it, it was a simple, no frills affair; a weapon designed purely for efficiency, and which seemed quite fitting for the owner.  Next to it, she would see some rags, a container of some sort of oil, and the sort of small, square stone that is used to hone a blade.  Clearly, he knew how to take good care of his stuff, even if some of it was starting to show its age.<br/><br/>"And this would be my current residence." He says with a slightly sheepish laugh.  It wasn't all that great; but then again, one must consider that this is a tavern, not an inn. Taverns were not prone to having nice rooms. Their was the aforementioned small table, nightstand, single chair, a covered chamber pot off in one corner, and a rickety looking bed meant for only one person.