11-10-2016, 10:10 AM
Name: (Current Alias) Julian Ophilia Garnson
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Julian dresses as he imagines his current character should be dressed as. Currently, he has garnered himself in an adventurer's garb. With a thick coat and sturdy boots, accompanied by a worn vintage leather vest he stole borrowed off a sleeping fully attentive and charming young man, who he happened upon.
As for his looks at the moment, he tries to look the part of an aristocrat, and looks like a man trying to look like an aristocrat. His long dark hair hangs in a ponytail and he tries to make his dull eyes shine as much as possible when the light allows for it. He holds himself tall, and tries to reflect the image of a proud man.
Personality:
Julian likes himself, and makes it evident he likes himself. Aside from that, everything depends on his mood. But he does have a taste for the theatrics, so there's that.
Skill:
Spear Proficiency: Competent
Pickpocket: Apprentice
Backstory:
Stuff brought:
An iron capped staff
The clothes on his back
A couple of coins
A couple of dice
A couple of marbles
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Julian dresses as he imagines his current character should be dressed as. Currently, he has garnered himself in an adventurer's garb. With a thick coat and sturdy boots, accompanied by a worn vintage leather vest he stole borrowed off a sleeping fully attentive and charming young man, who he happened upon.
As for his looks at the moment, he tries to look the part of an aristocrat, and looks like a man trying to look like an aristocrat. His long dark hair hangs in a ponytail and he tries to make his dull eyes shine as much as possible when the light allows for it. He holds himself tall, and tries to reflect the image of a proud man.
Personality:
Julian likes himself, and makes it evident he likes himself. Aside from that, everything depends on his mood. But he does have a taste for the theatrics, so there's that.
Skill:
Spear Proficiency: Competent
Pickpocket: Apprentice
Backstory:
![[+]](/images/collapse_collapsed.png "[+]")
Spoiler“Guilty!”
The verdict rang throughout the courthouse and was met by a round of applause and murmurs of appreciation uncharacteristic of such a lawful and solemn place. The judge did not call for order; he merely sat back in his high chair with a slight grin and nodded at the governor sat beside him. The governor himself did not bother to conceal his elation and was chortling along, clapping with the gallery. He was excitedly, and loudly, exclaiming what an excellent verdict it was, and how much deftly the judge dished out justice.
Justice. Justice was the word for the day, and seemed as though everyone wanted it in unanimity for once in this city’s insignificant history. It had been a miserable week, with a mix of rain and mud caked all over, and this particular day, the day was absolutely brilliant. The sun was shining bright out, and not a single cloud was to be seen in the sky, and yet, the courthouse was full to the brim and more; all the chairs were occupied, and every other space was crowded by as many people that could fit. There were even people who had climbed up the wall to have a peak through the window. As a result, the entire hall felt incredibly fusty and stifling and everyone was sweating up a river, including himself.
Julian was knelt down in the middle of all the muck that the wonderful denizens of Larimsdale had thrown at him. They didn’t even have the decency to let him stand for the trial, and now his legs were completely void of feeling. He could feel his hair sticking to his scalp and hated the feeling of his hair hanging over his eyes, but couldn’t blow air upwards hard enough to budge the wet lock.
Presently, the judge got to his feet and held his hands out to silence the crowd.
“Have you, Julian Ophilia Garnson, anything to say in your defense?”
The crowd immediately jumped into action, booing and shouting that he shouldn’t even have the right. Another piece of fetid fruit of some sort found its way to the back of his head. The impact freed his vision of his wretched hair and the relief brought him back to his senses. He looked up at the high table and smirked.
“Can you prove it?”
Following an uproar from the crowd, more garbage came flying his way, not all of them fruits, but he felt it was worth it just to see the look of disbelief on both the judge’s and the governor’s face.
“What insolence!” exclaimed the governor.
The judge was quicker to regain his composure. He gestured at the crowd to settle down and adjusted his collar, his eyes gazing coldly down at the convict.
“So,” he began. “You think the court proceedings were unjust, do you? Then enlighten us, Mr. Garnson, prove your innocence.”
That was easy, he thought. He cleared his throat theatrically and shrugged. “You tell me to prove my innocence, but it’s more difficult to prove my guilt. It is quite a feat you’ve achieved, if I say so myself. I mean,” he pointed with his chin at a man standing near the front, “are we really going to take a man with that sort of teeth seriously?”
“Hey!” said the witness indignantly, but conscientiously covered his mouth as people snickered at him.
“Mr. Clive is a valuable member of the community,” said the judge, shooting a look at the governor who was chortling as well. “And his teeth have nothing to do with his ability to give a testimony.”
“And yet you give him so much credit,” replied Julian. “When I was summoned for a trial, I was sure I would have to face a whole slew of folks and their co-authored book listing all of my nonexistent crimes, unless of course, you’re counting each of his teeth as witnesses as well.”
The crowd laughed despite themselves, and the judge narrowed his eyes while Bucktooth Clive, as he was newly christened, turned noticeably red in the dingy room.
“But setting his teeth aside, you’re convicting me of arson, and sentencing me to death by jailing, with just one witness? I mean, come on, Mortimer, a man of your caliber can do better than that.”
“My name isn’t Mortimer,” said the judge through gritted teeth.
Julian shrugged. “Sure.” He put up a display of nonchalance and took the time to take a glance over his shoulder. A number of people scowled back at him and a couple made rude gestures at him, but he saw more than a few in conflict whether to laugh, or frown. At least no one was chucking stuff at him anymore.
A slam brought his attention back to the judge. The man was not happy; Julian didn’t care.
“If that is all-“
“Hold up Mortimer,” interjected Julian loudly. “You seem awful anxious to have me in your dungeon, but I will clarify, I’m not into men.”
“That’s enou-“
"But jokes aside, let’s look at the facts,” said Julian even more loudly. “Deconstructing your Clive’s statement, what it boils down to is that he saw me, standing by a smoldering building, and tried to connect the dots between a circle and a square. Sure, you can squeeze one through the other if you tried hard enough, but that’s not what we teach our children, now is it?”
He gave them a full tenth of a second to reply before continuing. “As all of you who saw the building, or the remains of it, know, the warehouse was burnt from the top down. If I indeed did cause the fire, for motives that are unknown to me even as of now, why would I take the effort to climb all the way up there, risking the integrity of my limbs, to burn something down?”
“There was nothing to suggest the building was burned from the top down,” snarled the judge.
“Oh please,” said Julian rolling his eyes. “The walls of the first floor intact, relatively, but a collapsed roof and upper floors? Oh and,” he looked over at the governor, “did I forget to mention that the warehouse had gunpowder stored on the top floor? On the governor’s orders no less!”
The governor got to his feet all red and flustered. He jabbed a finger at Julian, the layers under his chin trembling. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me!” he said shrilly. “I’ll have you know that the gunpowder was stored with the utmost care to ensure that no such incidents happen!”
“But an incident did happen,” said Julian. “Everyone heard the bang; I was the first brave soul to inspect the source of the sound, but of course, everyone just thought I was the cause.”
A few began muttering behind him. The judge himself got to his feet and shouted. “Enough! This trial has wasted enough of our time. The sentence has been issued; there is no need for more of this foolishness.” He laid a hand on the governor’s shoulder, and the governor sat back down heavily, still steaming. “But as it seems our good grace wasn’t good enough for our convict, I see it only fit that he deserves a more severe punishment.”
Julian scoffed mockingly. “How much more severe can you get from life imprisonment? What is it going to be, a death sentence?” He looked over his shoulder and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Hear that folks? It took our beloved judge just about enough time to put a man in jail for life as it takes to boil water, now in a blink of an eye, a man is about to be sentenced to death! Watch out! Don’t wander too near a kicked dog or you’ll be getting the noose next!”
A greater number of people started murmuring, and Julian took the leap. He looked directly at the judge. “Doesn’t take him much does it?” he said as loudly. “You folks should’ve known when he wanted to bring in this ‘court’ system and be the judge himself! All this law and trial kerfuffle, do you really want this man to hold the sovereignty of your lives?”
“No!” shouted someone in the back, and that was all it took. The crowd had gathered to witness justice, and had now become an angry mob at the injustice that had been done upon them without their knowing. The judge started to shout in his defense, but the crowd was having none of it.
“You think you’re king do you?!” shouted one burly man. “Think you hold our lives in your hand?! What gives you the right?”
“What are we going to eat now?!” shouted a screechy woman. “The whole warehouse burnt down. We have nothing!”
Cacophony ensued, but it was music to his ears. People were clambering to get at the judge and the governor, while the guards tried halfheartedly to enforce order in the court. They were simple folk; gullible, and easily roused. Inciting the rabble was easy in theory, but was easier in practice. Chuckling to himself he got to his feet, and turned his back to the mob that had already pushed on past him.
He could get his ropes cut on the way out. It was time to leave. He had his revenge and his share of laughs. The judge won’t be holding that wool over these folks’ eyes anymore. In fact, considering the temperament of the townsfolk, he might not be doing anything at all.
He shook his hair out of his face and whistled his way down the steps from the courthouse. Over by the edge of the town he could see the charred remains of what used to store all the food and supplies of the town. It was near the end of fall and people would starve unless they got creative. He thought about it, and shrugged as he kicked in a window of a nearby house. He cut his ropes on the sharp fragments and merrily continued his way down the road.
The verdict rang throughout the courthouse and was met by a round of applause and murmurs of appreciation uncharacteristic of such a lawful and solemn place. The judge did not call for order; he merely sat back in his high chair with a slight grin and nodded at the governor sat beside him. The governor himself did not bother to conceal his elation and was chortling along, clapping with the gallery. He was excitedly, and loudly, exclaiming what an excellent verdict it was, and how much deftly the judge dished out justice.
Justice. Justice was the word for the day, and seemed as though everyone wanted it in unanimity for once in this city’s insignificant history. It had been a miserable week, with a mix of rain and mud caked all over, and this particular day, the day was absolutely brilliant. The sun was shining bright out, and not a single cloud was to be seen in the sky, and yet, the courthouse was full to the brim and more; all the chairs were occupied, and every other space was crowded by as many people that could fit. There were even people who had climbed up the wall to have a peak through the window. As a result, the entire hall felt incredibly fusty and stifling and everyone was sweating up a river, including himself.
Julian was knelt down in the middle of all the muck that the wonderful denizens of Larimsdale had thrown at him. They didn’t even have the decency to let him stand for the trial, and now his legs were completely void of feeling. He could feel his hair sticking to his scalp and hated the feeling of his hair hanging over his eyes, but couldn’t blow air upwards hard enough to budge the wet lock.
Presently, the judge got to his feet and held his hands out to silence the crowd.
“Have you, Julian Ophilia Garnson, anything to say in your defense?”
The crowd immediately jumped into action, booing and shouting that he shouldn’t even have the right. Another piece of fetid fruit of some sort found its way to the back of his head. The impact freed his vision of his wretched hair and the relief brought him back to his senses. He looked up at the high table and smirked.
“Can you prove it?”
Following an uproar from the crowd, more garbage came flying his way, not all of them fruits, but he felt it was worth it just to see the look of disbelief on both the judge’s and the governor’s face.
“What insolence!” exclaimed the governor.
The judge was quicker to regain his composure. He gestured at the crowd to settle down and adjusted his collar, his eyes gazing coldly down at the convict.
“So,” he began. “You think the court proceedings were unjust, do you? Then enlighten us, Mr. Garnson, prove your innocence.”
That was easy, he thought. He cleared his throat theatrically and shrugged. “You tell me to prove my innocence, but it’s more difficult to prove my guilt. It is quite a feat you’ve achieved, if I say so myself. I mean,” he pointed with his chin at a man standing near the front, “are we really going to take a man with that sort of teeth seriously?”
“Hey!” said the witness indignantly, but conscientiously covered his mouth as people snickered at him.
“Mr. Clive is a valuable member of the community,” said the judge, shooting a look at the governor who was chortling as well. “And his teeth have nothing to do with his ability to give a testimony.”
“And yet you give him so much credit,” replied Julian. “When I was summoned for a trial, I was sure I would have to face a whole slew of folks and their co-authored book listing all of my nonexistent crimes, unless of course, you’re counting each of his teeth as witnesses as well.”
The crowd laughed despite themselves, and the judge narrowed his eyes while Bucktooth Clive, as he was newly christened, turned noticeably red in the dingy room.
“But setting his teeth aside, you’re convicting me of arson, and sentencing me to death by jailing, with just one witness? I mean, come on, Mortimer, a man of your caliber can do better than that.”
“My name isn’t Mortimer,” said the judge through gritted teeth.
Julian shrugged. “Sure.” He put up a display of nonchalance and took the time to take a glance over his shoulder. A number of people scowled back at him and a couple made rude gestures at him, but he saw more than a few in conflict whether to laugh, or frown. At least no one was chucking stuff at him anymore.
A slam brought his attention back to the judge. The man was not happy; Julian didn’t care.
“If that is all-“
“Hold up Mortimer,” interjected Julian loudly. “You seem awful anxious to have me in your dungeon, but I will clarify, I’m not into men.”
“That’s enou-“
"But jokes aside, let’s look at the facts,” said Julian even more loudly. “Deconstructing your Clive’s statement, what it boils down to is that he saw me, standing by a smoldering building, and tried to connect the dots between a circle and a square. Sure, you can squeeze one through the other if you tried hard enough, but that’s not what we teach our children, now is it?”
He gave them a full tenth of a second to reply before continuing. “As all of you who saw the building, or the remains of it, know, the warehouse was burnt from the top down. If I indeed did cause the fire, for motives that are unknown to me even as of now, why would I take the effort to climb all the way up there, risking the integrity of my limbs, to burn something down?”
“There was nothing to suggest the building was burned from the top down,” snarled the judge.
“Oh please,” said Julian rolling his eyes. “The walls of the first floor intact, relatively, but a collapsed roof and upper floors? Oh and,” he looked over at the governor, “did I forget to mention that the warehouse had gunpowder stored on the top floor? On the governor’s orders no less!”
The governor got to his feet all red and flustered. He jabbed a finger at Julian, the layers under his chin trembling. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me!” he said shrilly. “I’ll have you know that the gunpowder was stored with the utmost care to ensure that no such incidents happen!”
“But an incident did happen,” said Julian. “Everyone heard the bang; I was the first brave soul to inspect the source of the sound, but of course, everyone just thought I was the cause.”
A few began muttering behind him. The judge himself got to his feet and shouted. “Enough! This trial has wasted enough of our time. The sentence has been issued; there is no need for more of this foolishness.” He laid a hand on the governor’s shoulder, and the governor sat back down heavily, still steaming. “But as it seems our good grace wasn’t good enough for our convict, I see it only fit that he deserves a more severe punishment.”
Julian scoffed mockingly. “How much more severe can you get from life imprisonment? What is it going to be, a death sentence?” He looked over his shoulder and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Hear that folks? It took our beloved judge just about enough time to put a man in jail for life as it takes to boil water, now in a blink of an eye, a man is about to be sentenced to death! Watch out! Don’t wander too near a kicked dog or you’ll be getting the noose next!”
A greater number of people started murmuring, and Julian took the leap. He looked directly at the judge. “Doesn’t take him much does it?” he said as loudly. “You folks should’ve known when he wanted to bring in this ‘court’ system and be the judge himself! All this law and trial kerfuffle, do you really want this man to hold the sovereignty of your lives?”
“No!” shouted someone in the back, and that was all it took. The crowd had gathered to witness justice, and had now become an angry mob at the injustice that had been done upon them without their knowing. The judge started to shout in his defense, but the crowd was having none of it.
“You think you’re king do you?!” shouted one burly man. “Think you hold our lives in your hand?! What gives you the right?”
“What are we going to eat now?!” shouted a screechy woman. “The whole warehouse burnt down. We have nothing!”
Cacophony ensued, but it was music to his ears. People were clambering to get at the judge and the governor, while the guards tried halfheartedly to enforce order in the court. They were simple folk; gullible, and easily roused. Inciting the rabble was easy in theory, but was easier in practice. Chuckling to himself he got to his feet, and turned his back to the mob that had already pushed on past him.
He could get his ropes cut on the way out. It was time to leave. He had his revenge and his share of laughs. The judge won’t be holding that wool over these folks’ eyes anymore. In fact, considering the temperament of the townsfolk, he might not be doing anything at all.
He shook his hair out of his face and whistled his way down the steps from the courthouse. Over by the edge of the town he could see the charred remains of what used to store all the food and supplies of the town. It was near the end of fall and people would starve unless they got creative. He thought about it, and shrugged as he kicked in a window of a nearby house. He cut his ropes on the sharp fragments and merrily continued his way down the road.
Julian wasn’t called Julian when he was born. In fact, he wasn’t called anything at all. His mother was quick to hide his birth as women who sold their body weren’t allowed children as a rule. The other women knew, but it wasn’t until Julian learnt to crawl that the whistle was blown. His mother was kicked out of the brothel, and she turned to begging on the streets to keep them alive.
It was rough going. Sometimes she had work, most times she didn’t. They were always hungry.
She never gave him a name. She always called him Child, or Son, so he took to giving himself names. He would come up with stories to match the name, and would spend hours immersed in his own world.
The moment Julian learnt the basic functionalities of a human being, he was sent to work. He worked at a local tannery with the other children. They worked in a musty basement that smelled of rot and feces, and he could come home covered in the stuff that they used to soften the leather. He never got paid. So he stole.
That night a number of men came and beat him up. His mother tried to stop them, but was knocked down. She screamed for a while, after a few kicks, she stopped. Julian got kicked too, and the men left after they had their fill of violence for the night.
He had only stolen a piece of moldy bread. His mother died that night.
What’s an urchin to do?
He kept stealing and running. If he was unfortunate enough to get caught, he got beat up. There were always new men to steal from. Merchants, soldiers, rich men, tourists. Apparently there was a war raging across the cities (a Civil War?), or was it those red-eyed folks stirring up trouble(something about portals?), or perhaps it was about a new violet carpet that a queen had bought somewhere. He didn't care, his life was difficult enough without having to dredge himself in the troubles of the men of the world. Eventually, he wound up with the other urchins in the city. There was an older kid, taught him everything he needed to survive in the city. He taught how to get food, to handle himself in a fight, and women. The older kid had ambitions he liked to share. He had dreams of becoming more than a dirty kid on the streets that he liked to share by the fire. To own a shop, to travel, to find treasure. Julian only ever half listened, because the days were long, and he was sleepy.
True to his word, the older kid eventually found a stable job. He learned his way around a sword and became one of the city’s guards. Julian was happy for his friend, and began to learn his way around a spear. Inspired, he was planning on getting a spot in the city guard as well, and put his past behind him.
There was a man. An intelligent man, a man with his smarts about him. The older kid talked about him often and said how the man was going to turn their lives around. Julian never did see or meet the man himself, but he took his friend's word for it. There was just this one job the kid had to do for him. Nothing dangerous, he said, just had to deliver a package. Simple, and easy money.
The older kid got imprisoned the day after the delivery. The man denied everything the kid had to say, and the kid was executed a week later.
Julian soon learned that the man was one of the more notorious criminals in the city, and that his friend had been the scapegoat for his final crime. He stayed in his city long enough to qualify as a guard just to prove he could and left for a faraway town. He had paid for information that told him that the man was in the town, masquerading as a judge of all things.
He bid for his time. The town had been little more than barbaric, and the man with the help of a friend had modernized the town to some marginal degree. Julian took the effort to help with the efforts, but the people never warmed up to his charming personality. It wasn’t a pleasurable experience, but he stayed long enough to realize how suggestible they all were. It was evident that the town was under a dictatorship under the mask of a free and fair community.
It wasn’t difficult to suggest to the governor that explosives were all the rage and worth their weight in gold. News came only so often, and Julian was the newest traveler.
He knew that everything valuable was stored in the town’s warehouse. He knew that the only the governor and the judge had the keys. He also knew that the governor lost himself completely if he had any whiskey.
All he had to do next was set the warehouse ablaze and wait for the people to come running. As expected, he was put to ‘trial’, and was given an outlandish sentence with no proper evidence whatsoever. It wasn’t all that difficult to outtalk the judge, and incite the crowd. He took off from the town as the mob swarmed the leaders.
For the years that followed he drifted from town to town, selling his skills as a mercenary. He went wherever he was needed, and extorted astronomical amounts from his clients. His tasks weren't too life-threatening; he didn't want to be involved in the whole conflict between races, and the emergence of dragons meant that there were always people seeking extra muscle. But one time he went too far, and angered the wrong man. In the process of getting away, he angered many more, including a dragon, which in turn angered hundreds of more people.
In his defense, he couldn't possibly have known that the lady in the carriage had a husband, or that the husband was the leader of a band of bandits, or that the town nearby did not appreciate people coming into town while being chased by very angry men (they also didn't appreciate getting raided either), or that the cave he ran into afterwards while being chased by both townsfolk and bandits (or well, hostages and bandits) was home to a very sleepy Earth dragon and that screaming loudly and hiding in a nook while the now furious dragon decimated the bandits, and the other towns in the relative vicinity, was a bad idea, or that a survivor, a kid from the raided town who had managed to hide from the dragon, would inform the people of those towns that the dragon attack hadn't been accidental. He couldn't possibly have known.
Before he could be accused of the calamity, he fled as far as he could. The couple of towns he ended up in the Forbidden Lands were welcoming at first. At first. Soon he was sailing into another town, one in which a legend of a woman was residing.
Apparently, she had aided with the establishment of quite a few towns and had survived everything the lands had to throw at her.
What was her name again...?
It was rough going. Sometimes she had work, most times she didn’t. They were always hungry.
She never gave him a name. She always called him Child, or Son, so he took to giving himself names. He would come up with stories to match the name, and would spend hours immersed in his own world.
The moment Julian learnt the basic functionalities of a human being, he was sent to work. He worked at a local tannery with the other children. They worked in a musty basement that smelled of rot and feces, and he could come home covered in the stuff that they used to soften the leather. He never got paid. So he stole.
That night a number of men came and beat him up. His mother tried to stop them, but was knocked down. She screamed for a while, after a few kicks, she stopped. Julian got kicked too, and the men left after they had their fill of violence for the night.
He had only stolen a piece of moldy bread. His mother died that night.
What’s an urchin to do?
He kept stealing and running. If he was unfortunate enough to get caught, he got beat up. There were always new men to steal from. Merchants, soldiers, rich men, tourists. Apparently there was a war raging across the cities (a Civil War?), or was it those red-eyed folks stirring up trouble(something about portals?), or perhaps it was about a new violet carpet that a queen had bought somewhere. He didn't care, his life was difficult enough without having to dredge himself in the troubles of the men of the world. Eventually, he wound up with the other urchins in the city. There was an older kid, taught him everything he needed to survive in the city. He taught how to get food, to handle himself in a fight, and women. The older kid had ambitions he liked to share. He had dreams of becoming more than a dirty kid on the streets that he liked to share by the fire. To own a shop, to travel, to find treasure. Julian only ever half listened, because the days were long, and he was sleepy.
True to his word, the older kid eventually found a stable job. He learned his way around a sword and became one of the city’s guards. Julian was happy for his friend, and began to learn his way around a spear. Inspired, he was planning on getting a spot in the city guard as well, and put his past behind him.
There was a man. An intelligent man, a man with his smarts about him. The older kid talked about him often and said how the man was going to turn their lives around. Julian never did see or meet the man himself, but he took his friend's word for it. There was just this one job the kid had to do for him. Nothing dangerous, he said, just had to deliver a package. Simple, and easy money.
The older kid got imprisoned the day after the delivery. The man denied everything the kid had to say, and the kid was executed a week later.
Julian soon learned that the man was one of the more notorious criminals in the city, and that his friend had been the scapegoat for his final crime. He stayed in his city long enough to qualify as a guard just to prove he could and left for a faraway town. He had paid for information that told him that the man was in the town, masquerading as a judge of all things.
He bid for his time. The town had been little more than barbaric, and the man with the help of a friend had modernized the town to some marginal degree. Julian took the effort to help with the efforts, but the people never warmed up to his charming personality. It wasn’t a pleasurable experience, but he stayed long enough to realize how suggestible they all were. It was evident that the town was under a dictatorship under the mask of a free and fair community.
It wasn’t difficult to suggest to the governor that explosives were all the rage and worth their weight in gold. News came only so often, and Julian was the newest traveler.
He knew that everything valuable was stored in the town’s warehouse. He knew that the only the governor and the judge had the keys. He also knew that the governor lost himself completely if he had any whiskey.
All he had to do next was set the warehouse ablaze and wait for the people to come running. As expected, he was put to ‘trial’, and was given an outlandish sentence with no proper evidence whatsoever. It wasn’t all that difficult to outtalk the judge, and incite the crowd. He took off from the town as the mob swarmed the leaders.
For the years that followed he drifted from town to town, selling his skills as a mercenary. He went wherever he was needed, and extorted astronomical amounts from his clients. His tasks weren't too life-threatening; he didn't want to be involved in the whole conflict between races, and the emergence of dragons meant that there were always people seeking extra muscle. But one time he went too far, and angered the wrong man. In the process of getting away, he angered many more, including a dragon, which in turn angered hundreds of more people.
In his defense, he couldn't possibly have known that the lady in the carriage had a husband, or that the husband was the leader of a band of bandits, or that the town nearby did not appreciate people coming into town while being chased by very angry men (they also didn't appreciate getting raided either), or that the cave he ran into afterwards while being chased by both townsfolk and bandits (or well, hostages and bandits) was home to a very sleepy Earth dragon and that screaming loudly and hiding in a nook while the now furious dragon decimated the bandits, and the other towns in the relative vicinity, was a bad idea, or that a survivor, a kid from the raided town who had managed to hide from the dragon, would inform the people of those towns that the dragon attack hadn't been accidental. He couldn't possibly have known.
Before he could be accused of the calamity, he fled as far as he could. The couple of towns he ended up in the Forbidden Lands were welcoming at first. At first. Soon he was sailing into another town, one in which a legend of a woman was residing.
Apparently, she had aided with the establishment of quite a few towns and had survived everything the lands had to throw at her.
What was her name again...?
Stuff brought:
An iron capped staff
The clothes on his back
A couple of coins
A couple of dice
A couple of marbles