Solon whistled loudly and stared into the clear blue sky as he walked the humble, bare, dirt path before him. He was on his way to Delfia, and he didn't even understand why.
He was a blatantly bored and careless archer, one that had no more life goals, and nothing else to do but wander for the rest of his life. He would receive no nobility from his parents, and no mercenary work elsewhere. He sighed loudly to himself and crossed his arms, still walking.
Night approached rather quickly. The path lead Solon into a small forest, where he figured he should probably make camp.
He was lazy, therefore, just decided to climb a tree. He ascended quickly, and nestled himself as comfortably as possible in the tree's branches.
And then, it wasn't long before he drifted into sleep...
Solon's expert ears perked up and he slowly and quietly raised his head, shaking the sleep from himself.
Below him, Solon guessed 4 to 5 meters away, there was a voice. A single voice, it seemed, and one talking to himself. Quietly, sure, but he was definitely talking to himself... and it was pretty weird.
Solon drew his bow; he was surely afraid, and it was clearly late into the night. The man below him presumably meant malice.
The man's voice and unquiet steps grew closer, and Solon quietly drew and arrow. Then, upon checking his ears, he dropped down in key timing.
He landed with a soft thud, bow aimed, and the man drew a sword. Yup, Solon thought, I guessed right. The man charged Solon, who easily dodged the careless blow, and elbowed the man in the neck after twirling his body around.
The man stumbled a few feet, and in that time, Solon shot a perfect arrow through the man's back, causing him to hit the ground with a hard thud, and his screams only echoed for a few seconds.
Knowingly, Solon checked his surroundings, but heard only the sounds of nature. He sighed, and placed his bow upon his back.
Solon decided he should find a new tree to sleep for the remainder of the night. He searched the forest to try and further himself from his previous location, as to hide himself from pursuers... if there were any still.
Regardless of whether or not he was being followed, Solon climbed another tree. He didn't think, however, to do so quietly... which was a grave mistake. He heard more voices, and a chill flew up his spine. He turned his heat to notice a fire-lit campsite with 6 men, all swords drawn. He had been located.
"Damn..." Solon muttered under his breath. He dropped, and began to run.
Solon disregarded being quiet now. He was being chased, and the men's laughs bellowed through the seemingly otherwise empty forest. Solon was dripping with cold sweat. He was more scared than he had ever been.
Where they just common mercenaries? Just ol' sellswords, hunting a prey? It didn't matter. If Solon couldn't escape, his death would be within minutes.
And so it was, Solon thought. The men had cleverly gotten around him, forming a perimeter. He had nowhere else to run. Solon drew his bow.
The men, all 6, closed in, forming a circle. They all had gleaming swords drawn, and were grunting and laughing. "Ey boy, it isn't safe to be out here at night!"
Solon grunted. "Yeah? It seems that way." He said cooly.
"Mhmhm, a clever one! He'll be a real fine meal." Another man said.
Meal? Solon thought. Surely they're just playing around with words, they think I'll be an easy kill. Not a literal... meal...
"Come on, then!" Solon shouted, notching an arrow. Before they could respond, he had them off guard. A swift and quiet arrow shot into the mouth of one of the swordsman, killing him instantly. Solon knew that the fight had started.
The men ran at him, swords raised. And Solon's life flashed before his eyes.