Post by Gilsworthy on Nov 27, 2005 16:37:29 GMT -5
The wanderer known by most as Gilsworthy had chosen to wander, this day, in the area of Avaren called the Dark Forest. 'It's.... dark. How boring.' he thought, straining his eyes to see in the dimness, a few minutes ago he had been in broad daylight. "Strange how a place like this can be so gloomy... naturally." he muttered, fingering the hilt of a dagger at his belt. His dark overcoat nearly brushed the covering of leaves on the ground as he walked, and the denseness of the tree trunks caused his path to zig-zag quite often. Getting out of this place would be quite a chore, yet he had to explore every inch of this new kingdom he found himself in before he decided to leave, like he always did.
The last place hadn't been so bad; a quiet little town he could barely remember the name of. Sundale? Shrumdale? It didn't matter. For once he thought he'd found the place he could settle down, enjoy the local night life, shoot some dice, and for a few months it had worked out that way. Of course, every place that seems that perfect would turn out horribly wrong. Gil started tapping his fingers against the sheath of one dagger, a habit he tended to do whenever he was remembering something. He hadn't stolen a single thing, well, no, he had taken a half-broken pocketwatch from a man who had been complaining about it moments earlier, that hardly counted, and yet somehow when the mayor's daughter was reported missing everyone started whispering about the new guy in town, that ruffian with the seedy eyes and unkempt hair. Soon the rumours, as rumours often do, started telling the story that the vagabond took her in the night to his hideout deep in the woods nearby where he'd done so many unspeakable acts then murdered the poor lass, bless her soul, and in a matter of one night's time everyone in town was utterly convinced of his terrible crimes. For once, it hadn't been his fault.
Lost in thought, Gil became totally unaware of his surroundings, his feet moving between the trees automatically.
The last place hadn't been so bad; a quiet little town he could barely remember the name of. Sundale? Shrumdale? It didn't matter. For once he thought he'd found the place he could settle down, enjoy the local night life, shoot some dice, and for a few months it had worked out that way. Of course, every place that seems that perfect would turn out horribly wrong. Gil started tapping his fingers against the sheath of one dagger, a habit he tended to do whenever he was remembering something. He hadn't stolen a single thing, well, no, he had taken a half-broken pocketwatch from a man who had been complaining about it moments earlier, that hardly counted, and yet somehow when the mayor's daughter was reported missing everyone started whispering about the new guy in town, that ruffian with the seedy eyes and unkempt hair. Soon the rumours, as rumours often do, started telling the story that the vagabond took her in the night to his hideout deep in the woods nearby where he'd done so many unspeakable acts then murdered the poor lass, bless her soul, and in a matter of one night's time everyone in town was utterly convinced of his terrible crimes. For once, it hadn't been his fault.
Lost in thought, Gil became totally unaware of his surroundings, his feet moving between the trees automatically.
