"Jarrith? Jarrith can you hear me?"
The voice is distant... his vision still black. But slowly... ever so slightly... the sounds of the forest begin getting louder and the blackness fades up into light. After several moments the Stalker's brain clicks back on and he realizes he is alive.
"What-- Did we--?" he croaks out. As his vision starts coming back to him, he looks up to see Lady Ashlyn looking down upon him, the briefest sense of relief washing over her face. Jarrith flexes his fingers and the muscles in his legs, then slowly pulls himself up into a sitting position. Never before had he been hurt that badly... never before had he truly thought his time on the Flame's earth was going to end. And thankfully... it didn't.
He takes a few tentative deep breaths, then climbs gently to his feet. His armor and tabard are now dyed a deep crimson... quite the change from the silvered sheen it usually has. He looks at the paladin and nods once in gratitude, then glances around the battlefield to see what their losses and their victories were. Surprisingly, he seems to have been their biggest casualty.
"Werewolves. Of all the things. I guess the Purge wasn't as complete as some of my superiors have insisted."
He reaches down and picks up his two rapiers, then wipes the blades down before returning them to their scabbards. Jarrith Bronns then moves off a bit to kneels down on his own and begins praying to the Flame for guidance, inspiration, and thanks.
The voice is distant... his vision still black. But slowly... ever so slightly... the sounds of the forest begin getting louder and the blackness fades up into light. After several moments the Stalker's brain clicks back on and he realizes he is alive.
"What-- Did we--?" he croaks out. As his vision starts coming back to him, he looks up to see Lady Ashlyn looking down upon him, the briefest sense of relief washing over her face. Jarrith flexes his fingers and the muscles in his legs, then slowly pulls himself up into a sitting position. Never before had he been hurt that badly... never before had he truly thought his time on the Flame's earth was going to end. And thankfully... it didn't.
He takes a few tentative deep breaths, then climbs gently to his feet. His armor and tabard are now dyed a deep crimson... quite the change from the silvered sheen it usually has. He looks at the paladin and nods once in gratitude, then glances around the battlefield to see what their losses and their victories were. Surprisingly, he seems to have been their biggest casualty.
"Werewolves. Of all the things. I guess the Purge wasn't as complete as some of my superiors have insisted."
He reaches down and picks up his two rapiers, then wipes the blades down before returning them to their scabbards. Jarrith Bronns then moves off a bit to kneels down on his own and begins praying to the Flame for guidance, inspiration, and thanks.