Atkin Tightgirdle adjusted his tunic again, smoothing the cloth over his torso. The elves around him were checking their bow stings and counting arrows, but he had none of these concerns.
As the leader of this small band of archers, Tightgirdle enjoyed the prestige and fame that his role provided. The fact that it allowed him to dress differently to his fellows was just an added bonus. Tightgirdle would have been the first to admit that he was a little more fashion concious than the average elf. Let them wear practical and, dare he say it, comfortable clothing. It was the role, nay, the duty of a leader to stand out from his comrades in arms, if only to provide a reference point for them to co-ordinate their efforts around. An immaculately cut tunic, framed by a majestically tight belt, with bright red leggings! Now that was the thing to be seen in, not all this brown and grey.
Tightgirdle winced as the belt dug into his waist, and adjusted the tunic again. Behind him, the other elves hid their smiles as they watch their vain leader struggle.
Not for him the drudgery of aim and fire, Tightgirdle mused. Not for him the muscle ache in the back and arms from a long days battle. If a leader used a bow, how would he concentrate on the swirling melee around them? How would he provide them with his expertise?
He winced again as the belt dug deeper. He was glad he didn't have a bow. It may have proved difficult to use with this particular outfit.
As the leader of this small band of archers, Tightgirdle enjoyed the prestige and fame that his role provided. The fact that it allowed him to dress differently to his fellows was just an added bonus. Tightgirdle would have been the first to admit that he was a little more fashion concious than the average elf. Let them wear practical and, dare he say it, comfortable clothing. It was the role, nay, the duty of a leader to stand out from his comrades in arms, if only to provide a reference point for them to co-ordinate their efforts around. An immaculately cut tunic, framed by a majestically tight belt, with bright red leggings! Now that was the thing to be seen in, not all this brown and grey.
Tightgirdle winced as the belt dug into his waist, and adjusted the tunic again. Behind him, the other elves hid their smiles as they watch their vain leader struggle.
Not for him the drudgery of aim and fire, Tightgirdle mused. Not for him the muscle ache in the back and arms from a long days battle. If a leader used a bow, how would he concentrate on the swirling melee around them? How would he provide them with his expertise?
He winced again as the belt dug deeper. He was glad he didn't have a bow. It may have proved difficult to use with this particular outfit.
Today's addition is a band of elven archers, led by their champion, Atkin Tightgirdle, named for his impossibly thin waist.
The chaps with swords and shields also have bows on their backs, hence their inclusion in the regiment.
Now that's a tight belt!
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