The sun was directly overhead the monk's brow, hot enough to make any traveler weary if she hadn't taken refuge in the shade of the forest, walking in a quite pleasant temperature. The truth, however, was that the monk was paranoid and righteously so. It was the first time that Nel had left the monastery on her own accord, even after two days since her abandonment, she couldn't help but twist her head around every five seconds and jumping after every little sound the forest had to offer.
If only the others would have joined her; she wouldn't be in this mess. Yet the other monks hadn't. The rumors of the king's untimely illness had spread like wildfire from the capital, reaching far and wide, to the steps of Nel's own home. At first, it was to be dealt with as rumors are, to be taken with a grain of salt. However, as more time passed, loose lips bear more tales. One in particular was about the prince's request for adventurers; aid of an artifact that could help his ailing father. The argument began when the woman inquired about it with fellow monks, friends she had grew up with since she was just a child, friends which she had trained rigorously with in body, mind, and spirit, thought it to be an unnecessary endeavor. Everyone is destined to die and all attempts to deny that simple truth will lead to failure.
Nel left on that night, sneaking out the front door, to do what is right. She wasn't the only monk who knew the importance of a leader but the only one who hadn't feared (at that moment in time) the outside world. A world riddled with vice. Murder, thievery, and deception.
Even while the sun was out, she was conscious of her surroundings, jittery to onlookers if there were any. As I mentioned before; it was necessary. She was clad in bright yellow monk robes which stopped at her knees and held a quarterstaff in her right hand. It would take no master tracker to spot her in the landscape, a forest with sand for soil, small little sprouts littered across the sand among the toughest of trees that survived and grew to great heights. It would take no master swordsmen to end her, the wooden staff no match for a a cold, steel weapon. As it would seem anyway. She had nothing else besides three copper coins and a small metal begging bowl that was dug in her chest.
To merely assume things, however, is an excellent way to die.
The bandages wrapped around her calfs, the midsection of her feet, forearms and knuckles were of no injury. The edges of her robes were purposefully tucked in these bandages; ready for combat. A precaution. Her steps, light and graceful, petite body, a very misleading and dangerous weapon.
Her paranoia suddenly put her on edge, having thought to hear another sound, she turned around, pulled down her hood to clear her peripheral vision, revealing her black shoulder-length hair tied back with twine, and took a fighting stance. The left leg was back, bent low, Nel's body leaned back entirely on the left leg while her right leg was straight and practically weightless. By her chest, the staff was gripped with her right hand by the center and the lower half with her left, leaving the front half pointed upwards, spanning four and half feet of reach.
Nel's emerald eyes peered into the forest, hoping she was indeed wrong like the day before, and she called out:
"Come out! I know you're there!"
Immediately greeted by her own echo, she waited, bound to let eventually turn away if there wasn't a true presence afoot...
Source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/RolePlayGateway/~3/jnBDnZDpRXE/viewtopic.php
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