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Snippet #1954304

located in Calisma, a part of Calisma, one of the many universes on RPG.




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Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas
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Feylon waited for all the horses to trot out of the gate. He watched all of the adventurers individually as they left the city. Some of them he knew would be trouble. Others might be too young or feeble to carry themselves in battle he thought. Feylon had a nasty habit of judging people before seeing what they could do. Maybe it was his army training. When he was stuck alone for days on end he had learned to look after himself and only himself. No one else would. He had seen new, in-experienced soldiers let others down with silly mistakes, which in a combat situation could get someone killed. Nonetheless he had never lost the habit, and sometimes he wished it would leave.

The black horse scuffled around as the last of the adventurers left. Feylon bowed forward and patted the horses neck. His squeezed his calf's into the horse and quickly joined up at the back of the line. The stream of horses was met by an influx of peasants walking towards the city. Perhaps they were finishing a days work in the farm or they were going to try and get a bargain before stalls began to close. Feylon could not tell and moved his mind to think about a different subject.

As the horse moved at a solid pace, the air around him began to cool. As if prompted by the drop in temperature the sounds of the world began to change. The chirping of birds became quieter. Insects began buzzing noticeably and the odd cricket could be heard in the grass. As the line in front of him slowed down Feylon realised they were stopping. He pulled back slightly on the reigns eventually bringing the horse to a stop. He slid off of the horse and walked it to a large tree just a small bit away from everyone else. He un-clipped the bedroll which until now had served as a cushion for the small of his back for the entire horse ride and unfurled it onto the floor. He propped his bow up against the tree and placed his quiver on the floor. When he slid the saddle off of the horse he could see its black hairs glistening in the faint evening light. Although he considered it an easy ride he was grateful that it was uneventful. He would prefer for the horse to trust him first before they decided to get into a tricky situation.

Just as he was about to sit down on the bedroll he heard a noise. The faint sound of a branch snapping perhaps? Or leaves brushing past a human body. He quickly glanced towards the fire. Everyone seemed to be present as far as he could remember. Feylon grew wary of the possibility that they may have been followed. After all they had taken no precautions as to confuse anyone tracking them. He assumed it was not deemed necessary so early in the trip. Perhaps however they were wrong. Slowly reaching under his cloak he produced one of the daggers that he carried there. In a swift motion Feylon assumed a crouching position and looked at those by the fire. He raised a finger to his lips and then gestured in the direction of one of the tents.