Segon: M, P, Stealth
From Create Your Own Story
And so it is, Segon the Mighty, a traveling swordsman. The nights are as cold as the common folk are cruel when you don't belong, and with fiery red eyes to match thick, mottled, red hair, Segon has yet to find a place where he is wanted. Sleeping in gutters and grass more often than in a bed, the stars and the sword at your back are the only friends you need. You are young, barely 20 years old, yet you have traveled Elaria from the Widow's Coast to the Erlan Desert, from the huts of the Nushala tribe carved from mountain faces to the ancient tree homes of Vaeri, and the only companions you've ever sought were the lights always illuminating the night sky and the cold steel slung from your shoulders. The insults hurled at you by the peasants covered in cow shit have become as harmless as a late autumn breeze, and despite what they whisper behind your back they trade their gold for the trinkets and baubles you collect in your travels.
Of course, trouble has never been a stranger to you. Like a fever you just can't break it follows you from town to town, and that night a month ago was no exception. When the bandits came roaring into town, you were in the corner of an inn, pretending that the alcohol wasn't watered down and hoping that the innkeeper hadn't spit in your drink. You stepped toward the door and witnessed a group of armed thugs dragging along a half naked blond girl, no older than 15. She squeezed in frantic screams between choking sobs as she was tossed back and forth between the men before one started to let his hands wander. Whether or not you would have run to the young girl's rescue is known only to you, because as you took in the sight you were shoved out the entrance by an unseen hand which then slammed the door shut. This girl was being torn apart by these animals and all around you doors and window shutters slammed shut.
And they called you the bastard.
One of the thugs noticed you, and, cock in hand, pulled a knife and sauntered over to you. His friends turned just in time to see his head explode as you unsheathe your sword and cleave his head in twain with one swift movement. They dropped the girl, pulled up their breeches, and charged. Instead of running like a sane man might do, you stood your ground as the vagabonds rushed you. Perhaps not expecting a shaggy looking drifter to fight like a demon, many of their faces were locked in a state of shock as their heads soared through the air. Eventually only one man out of the dozen was still breathing, and you, with nary a sliver suffered, drove your sword into his chest moments before you were struck in the back of the head by the guards who had watched the bloody display from the corner.
When you woke up, you were in a damp dungeon cell with no company but a rat nibbling on the "food" left behind by the gaoler. This cell became your new abode for three weeks before someone came down to collect you. You were splashed with icy water, told to shave, and dressed in the modest attire you arrived in. While the steward escorted you through the impressive estate, you peered inside what must have been the infirmary and saw several nurses tending to a young woman with blond hair. The bruises and cuts on her face looked a few weeks healed, but it couldn't hide that she looked like she'd been attacked by a horny bear, or, as Segon soon realized, a dozen or so bandits intent on raping her. You are ushered into a large study, lavish with velvet and adorned with tall bookshelves. Without looking up from whatever notice he was reading, the man seated at the desk dismissed the steward with a wave of his hand. "I must thank you, sir vagrant, for your courageous and violent display in the town square several days ago." You consider telling him it was weeks ago, but decide not to correct what may be the richest man you've ever seen. "Despite her meager birth, Katia is very dear to my youngest daughter, and it would have been a hassle to have her replaced." He finally looks up and asks "Do you know who I am?" You tell him you don't, and to his credit he doesn't tell you to address him as "M'Lord." "I am Lord Daren, and I have need of a man such as you."
What a "man such as you" could do to benefit the richest nobleman in the kingdom was beyond you, but whatever it was must be better than going back to your cell. You listened to his offer silently, constantly scanning the room and the man for clues to his intent. But at the end of the day your curiosity was overruled by your eye for gold, and you set off toward the Widow's Coast with 20,000 gold pieces flowing through your head.
Your task seems as simple as it is strange; you need to:
- Find a way into the Nemroll Ruins,
- Locate a bronze pendant with a relief of two dragons intertwined on it,
- Destroy the inner garden if it still exists,
- Deliver the pendant to a man in Goll.
Lord Daren said little of his motives - and paid all the more for that - apart from it being crucial to the continued survival of Elaria. You don't tell him that Elaria was around long before anyone set a flag on it and will be there long after that flag is in tatters. Instead, you head out at first light, your longsword draped over your shoulder.
You arrive at the outskirts of a small fishing village resting upon the cliffs of the Widow's Coast just as the sun begins its slow escape beyond the horizon.
