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Verse
Star
- Joined
- May 8, 2011
Segil Wordner had forsaken his bloodline to pave another path.
He sat in the forest at a rather popular secret passage, as far as secret passages go. He had men around him. They'd made their camp here and their coffer was already full of tolls they'd taken out of desperate travelers. It was a good enough living if you could stomach these woods. The passage kept its own secret like that, being remote. The fire that kept them warm at night was dead now, with game bones littering a ring around it along with fishheads from the river half a days walk from here, to tell how the men stayed alive. A brook kept them with fresh water.
Segil was resourceful. That's why they stayed with him, and stayed in line. He could usually solve any problem, even if it wasn't his forte. They'd seen him get things done that should have taken years apprenticeship that he didn't have. His father had called him a weasel, when Segil was just a skeletal boy, who liked to worm himself out of trouble and work. Now he'd filled in, and his physical resources swelled. Fighting all the time helped too. He'd learned enough tricks to fell great swordsmen, even without proper training. They'd yet seen him lose a fight. And they'd yet seen him fight one fair.
He wore leather armor with squares of metal sewn into the vest. One metal wrist guard and a thick leather glove on his sword hand. All of it was taken from different men, and he replaced them instead of maintaining them. His hair was brown but with the life they led, it looked black from grime and unwash. You'd know something was off with him since he was the only one out here who was cleanly shaven, despite his otherwise unkempt look. If you were attentive, that'd tell you there had to be a very sharp blade on him, somewhere, beside the sword he kept in a orange leather sheath at his side.
Segil was agitated now. There was something to be said about the freedom of the forest, and that he may crave it when he was in towns or cities, but he certainly missed female companionship when traveling with too many men for too long. That's why nobody had complained in a while. They knew their leader's mood. They quietly kept to themselves, waiting for the next person who'd use their passage to flee some circumstance in their own lives. Which made them desperate. And more often than not, they had something to pay with.
Close to their camp the trees opened up from the density that otherwise kept this spot well hidden. It gave the band of men space to live. A burrow near by gave them shelter from the worst of the weather, but mostly they just slept on hides under the stars. Starlight. Elves. It seemed those kind of creatures would be far from here, but he knew a few were available for their frustration, because he'd sold some to a city not too far. Sinful brothels eager to cater to their clients's every wishes. Segil sighed around the twig he was chewing on, reclined against a rock by the put-out fire, thinking about that brothel. He wondered if those elves would remember him if he visited. It made him snicker.
He sat in the forest at a rather popular secret passage, as far as secret passages go. He had men around him. They'd made their camp here and their coffer was already full of tolls they'd taken out of desperate travelers. It was a good enough living if you could stomach these woods. The passage kept its own secret like that, being remote. The fire that kept them warm at night was dead now, with game bones littering a ring around it along with fishheads from the river half a days walk from here, to tell how the men stayed alive. A brook kept them with fresh water.
Segil was resourceful. That's why they stayed with him, and stayed in line. He could usually solve any problem, even if it wasn't his forte. They'd seen him get things done that should have taken years apprenticeship that he didn't have. His father had called him a weasel, when Segil was just a skeletal boy, who liked to worm himself out of trouble and work. Now he'd filled in, and his physical resources swelled. Fighting all the time helped too. He'd learned enough tricks to fell great swordsmen, even without proper training. They'd yet seen him lose a fight. And they'd yet seen him fight one fair.
He wore leather armor with squares of metal sewn into the vest. One metal wrist guard and a thick leather glove on his sword hand. All of it was taken from different men, and he replaced them instead of maintaining them. His hair was brown but with the life they led, it looked black from grime and unwash. You'd know something was off with him since he was the only one out here who was cleanly shaven, despite his otherwise unkempt look. If you were attentive, that'd tell you there had to be a very sharp blade on him, somewhere, beside the sword he kept in a orange leather sheath at his side.
Segil was agitated now. There was something to be said about the freedom of the forest, and that he may crave it when he was in towns or cities, but he certainly missed female companionship when traveling with too many men for too long. That's why nobody had complained in a while. They knew their leader's mood. They quietly kept to themselves, waiting for the next person who'd use their passage to flee some circumstance in their own lives. Which made them desperate. And more often than not, they had something to pay with.
Close to their camp the trees opened up from the density that otherwise kept this spot well hidden. It gave the band of men space to live. A burrow near by gave them shelter from the worst of the weather, but mostly they just slept on hides under the stars. Starlight. Elves. It seemed those kind of creatures would be far from here, but he knew a few were available for their frustration, because he'd sold some to a city not too far. Sinful brothels eager to cater to their clients's every wishes. Segil sighed around the twig he was chewing on, reclined against a rock by the put-out fire, thinking about that brothel. He wondered if those elves would remember him if he visited. It made him snicker.
