Joseph had left the city. He was getting sick of the place, honestly. Laying on a beach and drinking himself stupid only seemed like a good idea for so long. So he'd hitched up his mare and left the place. His wagon was a comfortable little travel arrangement. It was gaily colored in oranges, teals, greens and reds, which gave the wheels a dizzyingly rainbow effect. Inside there was a wool bed adorned in thick, comfortable pillows of all shapes and colors. He'd stolen them from the houses of his lovers. It was a bit of a role call, really. He remembered every silk pillow stolen from a lord, every cotton or drab linen thing from poorer lovers. Fluffy affairs adorned in goldcloth, and harsher pillows woven from horsehair. The blankets were of the best quality. He had stolen a comforter from someone along the way that felt like a cloud, and it made the cozy little nook of the wagon feel like home.
He had a small iron stove fed with wood, that steamed smoke out of the top of the wagon. He could cook and bake on it, and his cast iron pans rattled with the uneven soil of the grasslands. Joseph didnt even bother to drive with a broad, wide open expanse like that. He was laying in bed, nestled in his little nest of pillows. Content and happy to listen to the little tinklings of his belongings.
Then it stopped. Abruptly. Joseph yanked himself upright, glaring. "What the fucking hell, did you just get lazy?" he demanded of the horse, though the animal couldn't hear him. He yanked open the wooden shutters just above his bed. Oh gods. He glared and got up, opening the door to his wagon. There were fifteen of them, all circling him on their horses. His large eyes narrowed. "Fucking savages."
"Look you lot, I've got nothing to fucking steal." Joseph barked at them irritably. "Fuck off!"