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Post by Kidney on Feb 12, 2020 14:16:56 GMT -8
Roard tried his best to remain modest, though the cold had some effect on keeping him guessing. The cold air chilled him thoroughly, and in its grasp he forced himself to keep moving. The ground was icy then, and in some respects, he had wished he had pulled the sandals from his decomposing corpse. Though, the thought became as chilling as the air, and Roard felt warmer not thinking about what happened so deep in that mine.
His feet carried him forward, and he kept close pace with Toustain, subsisting now off of the wisps of warmth that flowed from her. "You know...Toustain. You may need to speak to Vesta soon. Get us a fire or something..." He trailed off, looking around to the melted trees, sap freezing like the skin he once had. "This place...it is much worse to look at now that I can see."
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Post by rosallora on Feb 12, 2020 14:24:45 GMT -8
"A fire... we have no food, Roard. And no protection from the things out here that may yet prowl. And with you being in the state that you are, I would rather risk the dark and the road home than you freezing to death." He walks close, and she can't blame him. Every breath sucks a bit more of the warmth from her as they walk together, him not clothed enough for the weather and her soaked linens frosting onto her skin.
It continues to snow, flakes falling onto fungal caps and dusting the putrid ground. She keeps up her pace in hopes that it would encourage her companion, though the way was far from familiar. The grey sky was bluing into deep indigo as the unseen sun set, pushing the cold onto them harder.
"It can't be much farther," she says.
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Post by Kidney on Feb 13, 2020 9:49:26 GMT -8
Roard looked a slight bit offended, though, he huffed and kept that to himself. He looked to himself.
Pale. Babylike. The security of skin that wasn't so soft had been somewhat conforting, and without it, Roard felt less and less safe, vulnerable. Such was the transaction of magic, and time. His thoughts remained in that dark, deep place, though hidden away by himself. What was left was several needs. Some more understandable than others, some...odd, unfamiliar, yet everpresently urging. Roard felt so overpowered he nearly growled out loud.
He shook his head, taking a huge breath, coughing into his fist and following Toustain, as he had done for some time.
"I suppose it couldn't."
The smell of smoke accompanied the border of The Hamlet, unseen, but near.
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Post by rosallora on Feb 13, 2020 17:44:29 GMT -8
"It'll be-"
The bolt comes from seemingly nowhere, jumping out of the muck and slicing its way through Roard's left arm, bloodying the newly made man. Fresh skin is split open, a black feathered arrow with a stone tip landing further away in the marsh.
Toast turns quickly at the sound, nearly dropping her mace as the silence of the wood is split by the splash of red. Then the bandit that had been hiding behind one of the de-rooted trees jumps out, grabbing her and slashing a dagger across her side, wedging between the sliding plate of her armor. The woman cries out in the cold, breath puffing into the air like the trail of smoke from the Hamlet.
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Post by Kidney on Feb 14, 2020 14:02:23 GMT -8
The scream was impeccably loud, so incredibly real, in no means subdued.
But the rage that came after was just as loud. His eyes flared, and he screamed like a banshee, head flying around to spot the man who dared harm his new body. His eyes soon fell onto the man who dared harm Toustain. He came forward like a bull, his heavy head colliding with the Brigands, the smack coming from the two like two slabs of beef clacking together, and with a gout of blood, he pulled from the Brigand with a roar like an ogre.
"CEASE!"
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Post by rosallora on Feb 14, 2020 15:10:25 GMT -8
There's a resounding crack and the bandit staggers back, his world turned into a blurry mess after meeting with Roard. He nearly drops his blade, but manages to hold onto it- until the mace cracks him in the head, sending him into a sudden and permanent unconsciousness. Theres a hiss in the air as a bolt flies over Toustain's head, the woman dropping to the ground in response, her eyes wide and her white robes starting to stain with blood as she tries to find the archer.
He was in the same position they had left him, caked in mud and blood, one leg unusable and limp behind him. He had the look about him that only men moments from death had: a solemnity, a peace. A goal.
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Post by Kidney on Feb 14, 2020 15:27:07 GMT -8
Roard did not take much time to find the archer again. His eyes were filled with red-scarlet rage, and with an almighty burst of white-hot speed, Roard careened to the Archer, throwing himself high into the air. The branches clattered and scratched against his chest, and he aimed his feet for the Archer's chest.
They hit.
A sickly crunch of thin chest-bones, like those of a bluebird in a gorilla's grasp, they shattered underneath Roard's weight, blood spouting from the mouth of the archer like some infernal geyser. Roard continued, clattering to the muddy ground and slamming his shoulder into the earth. He coughed, knocking the wind out of himself, sucking desperately for air.
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Post by rosallora on Feb 15, 2020 7:40:14 GMT -8
Toast stays where she is, pushing up from the earth in order to ensure that she doesn't fall into the mud at least. Her eyes are wide as she watches Roard launch himself up and slam into the archer, taking him down decisively. They wouldn't be seeing him a third time, she thinks. She hopes. She really, really hopes.
She hisses at the pain in her side, and gets herself up and onto her feet. Her resolve cracks a bit at the way the pain shoots through her, the confidence she felt at the blessing of her Goddess fading as the glow had. She's only mortal. And as she was, she feels pain just as vibrantly as anyone else did. "Roard, let's go quickly. Please, quickly." She doesn't want to spend any more time out here. The marshlands were covered in white, now with splashes of red and brown poking their way through. The fallen leaves gave the impression of cracked earth, which fractures more with each step towards home.
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Post by Kidney on Feb 15, 2020 16:12:10 GMT -8
Toustain's words are responded to by a long exhale, high-pitched and followed by a sharp inhale, coughing included. Roard looked up, face a beet-red mess, and chest heaving as he brought himself up and readjusted his loincloth. He coughed again, "On my way..." He started, leaning on a sticky tree, quickly yanking a gummed hand away from the bark, "Ah! Fuck." He said then, shaking some sap from his hand and shaking his head. He looked to Toustain, "Sorry."
He followed her where she may have left, feet starting to go numb.
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