Posted with permission.
A soft elHippi wind curled through the buildings of the small town on the bank of the te Mealthiel. It, like all other winds, did not stop on its way to the Central Grasslands, but we will. We stop at what can charitably be called a tavern, with strong horses of the Hippus tied to an arrangement of stumps. As the steeds merrily eat their grass, we pass them to enter in the tavern.
It is full of characters, both seedy and honest, but more of the former. A lone man is drinking in the corner, watching the door intently. He is drinking horse milk mixed with wine from far away (an acquired taste). He is a mercenary. He lives and dies by the coin. Many would disagree with his life, but he finds it fulfilling. Holding allegiance only to those who can pay for it. What is the price of allegiance? How much are a mans actions? Thats what he was here to discuss.
Born on the plains of Hippus, this mercenary loved horses, particularly the way his hair felt in the wind. He had joined the army as soon as he could, but he felt their rules stifling. So he left, again as soon as he could. He joined a small band of mercenaries. His work took him all over the world. He quickly rose through the ranks, soon becoming leader of these men at the tender age of 30.
The man slowly turned his head from the door. Watching it had made his eyes hurt. Two men at another table were fighting over a particularly buxom woman. She was sitting, contemplating the two bulging sacks of money beside her, while the men shouted furiously. Pretty soon it would turn to the question of other bulging sacks
A group of men were playing a card game they collectively knew the rules to, but werent sharing. Merchants huddled together, away from the rough regulars, waiting for the morning so they could go on to other lands. The rest of the regulars got on with their drinks, sharing greatly exaggerated experiences of the day with their friends.
The watcher looked back at the door just as a small man burst through the door. He hurried over to the mercenary
Magnadine? Asked the small man.
With a smile, he replied Certainly.
My background story.