A gasp of pain escaped from Frederic’s lip’s, as he lay in solitude upon the bed Magnus had lend to him after a foolish drunken self infliction with a poisoned sword. His leg lay crooked, unwashed and lifeless, as if not anymore a part of his lenient structure. Blood and infection had long since began to ooze from the wound, made worse by mere minutes of walking around the town’s ground’s, and by this time a noticeable withering of the leg had become apparent, even it’s colour did not match that of his tanned sun struck skin.
Magnus had before aided to, and sutured the wound, but to no avail, instead it had become pale and infected, and the poison had begun to show a visible potentially harmful effect. To top it all off he had an excrutiating hang-over from endless nights of drinking.
The situation was rather ironic, as since washed up on the isle of Gobaith, Frederic had lied, cheated and stolen everything that he had ever accomplished.
Known for practicing banditry religiously, he had walked on, harmed, and even kidnapped people. It wasn;t always like this, but now, this image of the brutish man had as if faded to a shadow, as now, it was he who lay suffering once again, alone and scared…Paying for his sins... A drunken fool.
He didn't care if he had aquired a drinking problem, because it wasn't a problem with him.. Not now, he had already thrown a guess as to how his future was to be..
“ No job, no leg.. Once a landrat, always a landrat.”
Sighing in despair he sit’s upright examing his leg briefly, but soon turning away, grimacing at the very sight of it, reaching quickly for the bottle of ale by his bedside.
“People have forgotten about 'Deuce' the bandit…The coward...The liar.
I could have had a new start at this bloody awful life..
Taking a large swig of ale, Frederic let's out a deep sigh, rubbing the excess liquid from his face with the brunt of his arm.
Pff.. This was indeed, not the ‘new start’ I had in mind..” Frederic thought to himself.
Decay of a man
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