Simon and the witch

In the circles of nobility that Simon preferred to frequent he was known as a polite young man, destined for great things. Glory, power, renown. On the streets of the lower quarter of the city however, he had a very different reputation. Simon was at heart a bully, having found a penchant for pushing around any he deemed lower than himself at a very young age. As he grew so too did his cruelty and by the time he was officially a man he was known in the poorer parts of town as mean, violent and vindictive snake. Most quickly learnt to stay well out of Simon's way.

That was why it was particularly shocking to the then drunk and surly young Simon when he staggered out of one of the seedier taverns the town had to offer, only to stumble directly into a withered old wretch of a woman, his muscular frame barreling into the old crone and knocking her down into the mud.

"Stay down there where ya belong, ya filthy old hag!" Simon spat as he regained his balance on wobbly legs. "Wouldn't even stop ta piss on ya..." he continued as he turned and lurched away. "Horrible old bitch."

The fallen woman watched Simon closely as he stumbled away towards the high end of town, her cold glare tinged with a sinister glint of malice that would have sent a shudder through even the toughest of warriors.