The Writer's Room

Rummaging through the room of the beyond intoxicated writer, one would be quick to discover his alarmingly large collection of smut, no small amount of wich written by Leon Hale himself. Closer examination of his closet will reveal unwashed clothes with loose change spread over multiple pockets, nothing substantial. His desk holds a few letters from his family (mainly his father) most of wich belitteling his career and asking for his debts to be settled. A draft of his next (as of yet untitled) 'book' is on the desk, it is as one woud expect, terrible.
He has a backpack filled with earth covered diging tools as well as a few pieces of rectangular leather, likewise covered in dirt. A hndful of old coins can also be found in the same bag.
There are a few plates and sets of silverware from the dining hall, spread about the room, remnants of food clearly visible.
A large cabinet between the bed and desk is locked, the key on his nightstand opens it with a gentle squeak, revealing more booze than any one man would be expected to consume in a year. All of it dirt cheap.
Within half an hour the room is compleatly searched, but untouched to even the trained eye. As the door is locked and the key slid under the door, the rythmic snoring of the room's occupant can be heard from all the way down the hall.

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