Most beautiful lady of Tyron
Tyron would never forget the young noblewoman and adventuress who had ridden into his home village on a white charger. Despite being just three years his senior at 19, she had nevertheless made him feel like the archetypical tongue tied adolescent.
Confident, athletic and cultured she possessed tan skin which glowed with vitality, full lips, lustrous brunette hair pulled into a pony tail and emerald eyes that reflected wry humour and intelligence. Her white teeth had sparkled when she flashed Tyron a dazzling smile.
A real Lady she nevertheless carried a composite bow and wore a light cavalry sword on her back. Despite wearing the weapons easily she exhibited confidence, not arrogance.
Her clothing which, despite being of the highest quality was not ostentatious consisted of padded brown leather armour secured by a silver belt buckle and a dark green travelling cloak held at the neck with a silver clasp.
Well endowed, yet not absurdly so Tyron had been unable to take his eyes of her as she ride down Town's main thoroughfare.
Why Am I Tyron?
Why good? Truly I'm not sure I am as pure as the girl makes out.
Generally I treat others as I would wish to be treated but I also have mo hesitation in treating others s they have treated me. If indeed this was to my benefit then it shall also be to theirs. If however it was to my detriment then, they too shall know such disadvantage.
I, Tyron the Scribe, was attacked by a Woodsman and was victorious in combat.