Words penetrated into Eldacar’s doze, "Move on. You can't sleep here." He paid them no mind and stubbornly clung to sleep until the sharp pain of a boot in the ribs demonstrated that this wasn't a request.

Eldacar has taken a single point of damage from a steel-tipped boot.

There are 9 of 10 hit points remaining.

With a groan, Eldacar rubbed his sore ribs and reluctantly pried his eyes open, peering up at the source of the disturbance. One of the city guards scowled down at him with disdain. "Get up, vagrant. You can't lay here and obstruct the market."

Eldacar winced as the sun’s rays pierced through the thick fog of his hazy mind. He rose to his feet with a groan and began the daily struggle to recall the previous night’s events. The pounding in his head clearly indicated that it had involved copious amounts of ale, and the hustle and bustle of the street market surrounding him was a painful reminder that he had not made it home. Sudden tears flowed down his cheeks as memories forced their way past his hangover and he remembered that he no longer had a home. The temple of light had shunned him. Cast him out because he didn't pass their pathetic purity test. He spat on the ground and staggered onto his feet. Those stuck-up clergy might have found him wanting, but at least his God hadn't given up on him. Yet.

A hand shoved him firmly in the back, sending him sprawling forward. "That's right, clear off. We don't want your sort around here."

Eldacar glared up at the guard who had knocked him down. The man was the same as any other guard in the city. A well trained thug, the guards were a formidable force, feared by the lawless and respected by the lawful. Their rough exteriors and numerous scars warned of the brutal tactics they took to ensure that order was maintained with an iron fist. Yes, Eldacar knew their sort. Any excuse and he'd find himself doubled over in pain. That was presuming he was lucky and didn't just get a knife in his gut for his complaints. His rebellion only lasted for a brief moment, then he dropped his gaze deferentially and murmured, "Yes, Sir," as he scrambled to his feet.

The two thug's watched him rise cautiously recognising the barely restrained anger within their victim. The second guard half drew his sword. "Get moving before I lose my patience," then he turned dismissively to his friend, "your trouble is that you're too nice, Jordan. That sort only understands a firm hand."

Eldacar shuffled away from them quickly. His legs were stiff with cold from his night asleep on the cobblestones. Still, he was alive, Ligera must have watched over him last night. Thank you, lady, for keeping this ungrateful wretch safe. A smile blossomed on his lips as he stumbled down the street searching for breakfast, rejoicing in the warmth of the early morning sun. Eldacar considered it important to appreciate the simple joys of life while so many others let them pass by.

The Jumping Bean cafe was close to here, and they'd be throwing out yesterday's stale bread as soon as today's came out of the oven. It would be a hearty meal if he could beat the other scavengers to it. He could almost taste the crispness of the bread in his mouth. There was even a possibility that there might be some donuts. Grimacing slightly, Eldacar forced his aching muscles into a faster pace.

**

While he wasn't the first of the town's vagrant population to make it to the cafe, there was enough food to go around. The gathered group were a motley assembly of humans and elves, dwarves and halflings, all of them united in their misfortune. The winds of fate had blown them from their homes, leaving them to wander the streets in search of sustenance. They lived in the nooks and crannies, in alleyways and forgotten corners, their spirits invariable as broken as their bodies. Some of them now lived lives of crime, their desperation leading them down dark paths. Others still clung to remnants of their dignity, scraping out a meager existence through the kindness of strangers or the labor of their hands. Though they were reduced to a state of want, they had formed a community of their own. An uneasy brotherhood, bound by hardship and the hope that one day their fortunes might change.

The disparate group eyed each other uneasily as they quickly scoffed down their food, but so far everyone had been wise enough not to start any trouble. Restaurants were considered safe zones for interaction between the homeless.

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Eldacar was chewing on a stale roll of bread when the first of his fellow tramps screamed a warning. "Run!"

Others quickly took up the cry as their survival instincts kicked in. Soon a human wave was rolling towards the western exit from the alley. Eldacar was with the others as they fled away from a group of heavily armed men who stalked towards them. If he could reach the main thoroughfare then he’d be able to mingle with the traffic and lose himself.

Eldacar’s feet pounded upon the cobblestones he moved closer towards the alley's exit. He jostled for position with the other fleeing vagabonds. An older woman stumbled in front of him and he leaped over her prone form with surprising agility. Fear was a great motivator. His lungs were burning and his heart was pounding so hard that he felt it was trying to escape from his body. There was only a hundred yards or so to go until he reached the mainstreet and was able to merge in with the respectable people of the city. Carts laden with goods rolled past the end of the street, each laden with goods for market. They were so close that Eldacar could smell the fresh dirt on the vegetables.

For a brief moment it looked like he would escape then more armed men stepped into view, blocking the exit. Each of the dozen men wore the dark blue leather armor that was associated with the city's guards.

The first of the vagrants reached their line seconds later, no warning was given by the guards before they beat the scrawny woman to the ground. The vagrants behind her tried to stop but the guards pressed forward and laid into them with their cudgels.

Fuck. Eldacar thought, there was no point crying for help when it was those enforcing the law assaulting you.

He needed a ‘Plan B’ and quickly.

Over a dozen of the homeless were subdued now, and only Eldacar and a few others had retreated to the middle of the alleyway. One of them, a slender girl barely in her teens, was beating on a restaurant's backdoor begging to be let in. The other, a dirt covered halfling, had fallen to his knees and appeared to be praying.

Eldacar smiled grimly. As a Cleric he was a true believer. However his life had taught him anything, the Gods only helped those who helped themselves.

“Let these people go, they’ve done nothing wrong!” He demanded. A few of the nearest guards sniggered in response and Eldacar felt anger rising inside him. Taking a defiant stance he cupped his hands and concentrated, flickering blue flames rose up from his palms. “I think you misunderstood me. That wasn’t a request.”

For a brief moment the guards looked nervous, paralyzed by the display of magic, then a voice rang out. “Lower your hands Eldacar, don’t make this any worse for yourself than you have to.” High Priest Tyron stood at the back of the guards. As an elder from the temple of light, Eldacar was familiar with him. He was also used to the look of disapproval etched upon the old man’s face.

What was a damned High Priest of Ligera doing rousting the homeless?

Deciding he didn’t care, Eldacar glared back. “If Ligera thought I was in the wrong she wouldn’t have answered my prayer!”

“Why the Goddess humors you is beyond me, but this foolishness stops now.” The Priest stated. Warm golden light flooded from his hands, spreading across the ground towards Eldacar as the high priest murmured a prayer to his Goddess.

Eldacar tried to focus on the flame in his hands and direct it towards the High Priest, but his thoughts became sluggish and slow as Tyron’s spell worked its nefarious effect upon him.

Hold Person

Edacar, you have failed to resist the Cleric spell ‘Hold Person’ and will be unable to move for a period of one minute.

Perhaps this time can be used to reflect upon your life choices?

As the High Priest walked away Eldacar could hear his parting words to the guard captain. “Make certain he is one of those chosen to the expedition, he’s a disgrace to the temple. Ligera might still listen to his prayers but I lack her divine patience.”

**

Eldacar - Level 1 Cleric of Light

Strength 12

Intelligence 10

Wisdom 10

Dexterity 12

Constitution 16

Charisma 9

Hit Points: 9 out of 10

Experience Points: 0 / 1,500

Equipment: Dirty Cleric’s Robes

Prayers:

Light (I) - Causes a light to appear and remain in place for ten minutes per level of the caster.

Radiant Flame (I) - Hurls a divine flame at a target. Will cause 1-8 hit points of divine damager + 1 per level of the caster.

Healing Touch (I) - Will heal 1-8 hit points of damage + 1 per level of the caster.