Post by Neko on Mar 4, 2014 8:27:17 GMT -5
::Deerfield approaches the woman and the old man. Upon reaching them, his suspicions are confirmed. The old man lay dead in her lap. No wounds appear on his body. The woman is sobbing and clutches to him when he gives his small comforts.::
"He... He just... He was holding his chest like it hurt..."
::Miroslaw does his inspection of the Orc and finds no further weapons on the body. The armor seems to be nothing special, but might be worth some coin.
Heading towards the animal laying in the dirt, he finds its beathing to be quick, but shallow. Blood pooled around it and it continued to bleed out into the grass. It was clear it would be in no shape to ride, and probably would not last the night.
The large man lay in a heap near it. The hatchet the Orc had thrown buried deep in the man's neck as he stared, unseeing, up into the sky. Miroslaw finds an odd assortment of weapons, bones and other trinkets. Some worth coin. Few stand out. The hatchet in the man's neck seems interesting. As does a shield strapped to the mount that seems to have been modified.
As the rush of battle fades more memories of the night before come clear. You both have hazy memories of following the ratfaced man out of the Tavern with promises of being shown what it was the man was celebrating. You remember feeling sleepy and foggy headed as you approach a wagon. Other memories come here and there of opening your eyes and seeing the others laying about you in the back of said wagon as it rolled along...::
"He... He just... He was holding his chest like it hurt..."
::Miroslaw does his inspection of the Orc and finds no further weapons on the body. The armor seems to be nothing special, but might be worth some coin.
Heading towards the animal laying in the dirt, he finds its beathing to be quick, but shallow. Blood pooled around it and it continued to bleed out into the grass. It was clear it would be in no shape to ride, and probably would not last the night.
The large man lay in a heap near it. The hatchet the Orc had thrown buried deep in the man's neck as he stared, unseeing, up into the sky. Miroslaw finds an odd assortment of weapons, bones and other trinkets. Some worth coin. Few stand out. The hatchet in the man's neck seems interesting. As does a shield strapped to the mount that seems to have been modified.
As the rush of battle fades more memories of the night before come clear. You both have hazy memories of following the ratfaced man out of the Tavern with promises of being shown what it was the man was celebrating. You remember feeling sleepy and foggy headed as you approach a wagon. Other memories come here and there of opening your eyes and seeing the others laying about you in the back of said wagon as it rolled along...::