Quoted By:
You approach slowly, tapping the Irishman with your boot. He weakly pushes your foot away, snoring loudly. You look around at the empty meadow where he’s parked his wagon. Gently, you wiggle your rifle free from his arms. It’s been a month since you’d given it up, and it is beaten as though it’s been a year, through all that though, it is still a thing of beauty. You sidle up to his wagon and take the two books off of the lip where he left them. Endymion, and Hyperion, beautiful. You return to the man’s bed of grass, “Well Paddy, ye gave a tough fight. I’ll see ye somewhere down the trail pardner.” You pluck $10 off your clip and toss it onto his sleeping form. Half of what your Sharps is worth, but you had to give him something. Whistling to yourself and thinking of the chocolate waiting for you, you walk back to the thoroughfare and to a well deserved rest.
GAINED:
Sharps Rifle:
An 1851 Model 2 Breech-loading Rifle, .52 caliber, Rimfire cartridges, and an effective shooting range of 1,000 yards. The trigger sticks slightly, weathering on the barrel has given it range fall off, and at 30 inches the barrel length is fairly unwieldy in close combat, but it is easily one of the best mass produced rifles in the country.
One copy of Endymion:
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
One copy of Hyperion:
Along the margin-sand large foot-marks went,
No further than to where his feet had stray'd,
And slept there since. Upon the sodden ground
His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead,
Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed;
Relationship Established:
Patrick Flynn, Caravaneer