Snippet #840661

"Alms for the poor, alms for the poor, good sir do you have a coin to spare for a pauper," Lazarus Kingsbane called out to the passing villagers heading into the Spotted Calf. Plopped on the ground, back against the wooden wall, and head hunched forward Lazarus kept from making eye contact with his hood drawn. It helped to play on the sympathies some have for the blind. Occasionally he would get a coin put into his open palm and he would give them a thanks and a nod as he pocketed the coin, still making no eye contact.

Today had not been a good day. Two coins the entire day, two small coins. Not enough to even buy dinner in the tavern he was sitting out side. Damnable king and his wretched taxes was the curse that Lazarus had been muttering the most these days. He always had a grudge against authority, that's why he took the name Kingsbane, but this king was horrible. If the man stood in front of Lazarus he would not hesitate driving his dagger deep into the man's ribcage.

That was enough stone grinding one day. Pushing off the wall Lazarus leaned on to his walking staff, another ruse to project the image of his frailty. Keeping his hood over his head, Lazarus shuffled away from the Spotted Calf. Bumping occasionally into others. One such man was much bulkier than the rest. Stumbling slightly, Lazarus reached out to grab the man on the shoulder to steady him himself. The feel of chain mail beneath his tunic confirmed his suspicion that the man was a knight, but of what order or who he swore allegiance he could not tell while his eyes still were focused on the ground. "Many apologies noble knight, please have pity on a blind man, I've naught anything to eat, perhaps you could spare a coin to see me to through the morrow?" Lazarus's spoke in a raspy voice, head slung low.