A grim outlook, perhaps, but though the stranger guarding him had more than proven themselves in Kvatch, he had no illusions about the persistence of assassins. To that end, waking up somewhere unfamiliar was hardly a surprise. More surprising was that he was unguarded and that the door was unlocked, though the unfamiliar woods surrounding him didn't hold enough promise to make him any less uneasy.
He's certain of very little, these days, but he knows enough to realize that escaping ought to be his highest priority. In no short amount of time, he finds himself a weapon, pulls up his hood, and begins creeping his way through the woods, slow and careful. There must be a way to a path somewhere.
At the sound of anyone approaching, he sidesteps from the tree he's hidden behind and calls out to them.]
Stop there.
[Though he tries to keep it hidden in his sleeve, it's likely fairly obvious from the awkward way he holds his arm that he has a dagger at the ready. He's better with that than with most weapons, but it's still clumsy in his grasp-- a fact that's quite clear to anyone more familiar with using weaponry. He keeps his distance, and though he's in the open his head is still partially ducked in an attempt to hide his face. His posture conveys more worry than he stern tone lets on.]
Who are you, and why have I been brought here?
2
[He very quickly finds himself at a loss of what to do; a feeling not uncommon for him as of late, it seems. He has never been a hunter of any sort, and the people here hardly need a priest (especially a priest like him). They need an Emperor even less, though that's no small relief to Martin, and he finds himself content to keep himself quiet even once he's slightly less on-edge. Others had stepped up to lead, in any case, and it's more important that he keeps himself safe. The Empire still depends on that.
He gravitates towards the fields, eventually, though they can't really be called that. Though he'd picked up little of the profession himself, his father (or the man he'd once thought was his father) had been a farmer. He knows enough to be of some help, and that's what matters at the moment.
Martin can be found on his hands and knees in the dirt shortly after reaching this conclusion, hands digging into what's available and turning it over in his fingers. After a while of this he sits back on his heels, surveying the (exceedingly limited) area of dirt around him with a displeased look and equally displeased muttering.]
This isn't enough space to feed a household, let alone a village.
Martin Septim || TES IV: Oblivion
[Martin had been fully prepared to be kidnapped.
A grim outlook, perhaps, but though the stranger guarding him had more than proven themselves in Kvatch, he had no illusions about the persistence of assassins. To that end, waking up somewhere unfamiliar was hardly a surprise. More surprising was that he was unguarded and that the door was unlocked, though the unfamiliar woods surrounding him didn't hold enough promise to make him any less uneasy.
He's certain of very little, these days, but he knows enough to realize that escaping ought to be his highest priority. In no short amount of time, he finds himself a weapon, pulls up his hood, and begins creeping his way through the woods, slow and careful. There must be a way to a path somewhere.
At the sound of anyone approaching, he sidesteps from the tree he's hidden behind and calls out to them.]
Stop there.
[Though he tries to keep it hidden in his sleeve, it's likely fairly obvious from the awkward way he holds his arm that he has a dagger at the ready. He's better with that than with most weapons, but it's still clumsy in his grasp-- a fact that's quite clear to anyone more familiar with using weaponry. He keeps his distance, and though he's in the open his head is still partially ducked in an attempt to hide his face. His posture conveys more worry than he stern tone lets on.]
Who are you, and why have I been brought here?
2
[He very quickly finds himself at a loss of what to do; a feeling not uncommon for him as of late, it seems. He has never been a hunter of any sort, and the people here hardly need a priest (especially a priest like him). They need an Emperor even less, though that's no small relief to Martin, and he finds himself content to keep himself quiet even once he's slightly less on-edge. Others had stepped up to lead, in any case, and it's more important that he keeps himself safe. The Empire still depends on that.
He gravitates towards the fields, eventually, though they can't really be called that. Though he'd picked up little of the profession himself, his father (or the man he'd once thought was his father) had been a farmer. He knows enough to be of some help, and that's what matters at the moment.
Martin can be found on his hands and knees in the dirt shortly after reaching this conclusion, hands digging into what's available and turning it over in his fingers. After a while of this he sits back on his heels, surveying the (exceedingly limited) area of dirt around him with a displeased look and equally displeased muttering.]
This isn't enough space to feed a household, let alone a village.
wildcard
[rather do something else? go for it.]