~ Seros went trudging through the very edge of the pines, collecting fallen sticks and broken logs where he could even as every time he stooped for something on the ground he could feel a searing, exhaustive pain wrack his body. Finally it became too much to bear and the swordsman dropped to his knees, the bundle of wood in his arms sprawled around him while he gripped at his sides where the stirges had punctured his skin.
" Gods' Blood!"
he raged, angered by his own pain, angered by the loss of one of their own, angered by the whole miserable scene of it.
With a furious energy sweeping over him, Seros forced himself back up and drew the blade at his side, bringing it high and then slicing it into the bark of a nearby tree. The sword rattled with uncertainty in his grip, clearly not an instrument designed for this, but Seros paid it no heed as he dug the steel into wood again and again. He raged for a minute, dulling and harming the blade he had shown nothing but reverence beforehand as the sword left showers of bark and splinter in the air, its weight and edge unable to do much to a full pine tree despite the force it was swung with.
The aasimar finally collapsed down onto one knee, breathing heavy from his own irrational rage needing more blood than he currently had available. Seros felt woozy, as if he would pass out any second, but managed to dig the tip of his blade into the soft earth and grasp the hilt to steady himself enough to recover. His shoulders heaved as he made to gather the wood he had dropped and force himself to stand again, sheathing the blade that was now sticky with sap. It took great effort to finally walk himself back to where their camp was being set up for the night, just outside of the Pines: nobody seemed to want to move much further.
Seros moved to the center of the activity and made to make their fire for the night, still groggy and light-headed as his body sought oxygen that just wasn't there. Though the kindling here was dry, he struggled with the flint and steel to try and spark a flame, indigo eyes focused on nothing but the brilliant flashes of light each time rock met metal. Finally his efforts were rewarded with fire, Seros coaxing it to grow before backing away from the growing embers.
The Rornishman leaned himself up against a wheel of the wagon, his legs outstretched while still gripping his side. He was so very tired, but something Fhanna had said before had struck him.
“Dunnae need t’ worry ‘bout me. I barely knew the bloke.”
How well did
they all know one another? Seros had worked with mercenaries before but he had known a bit more of their personal lives beyond "could sing" and "shags like a minx". One of his current company had just died
, and despite a small chat by the fire a few nights ago, Seros had to admit to himself that he barely knew Caius. He was guilty and pained for the loss, but if he were asked to give a eulogy, the aasimar was embarrassed to admit he would be rather reticent.
" Tell me something about yourselves,"
he said suddenly, weakly: the blood loss was taking its toll, despite the fact that his body refused to quit just yet.
" Anything. Home. Family. Hobbies. How you like your eggs. Just ... something."
He needed to know. He needed to know whom he traveled with, fought alongside. He wanted
to know these people: to do any less would be a disservice to them all. ~[/section]
[sblock=Seros's Stats]Character Sheet
: 7/18 Temporary HP: 7/18
: Stoically Depressed
Temporary Stats: CON: 7
: 17 Flat
: 14 Touch
: 4 Reflex
: 2 Will
: +4, 1d8+4, 19-20/x2
: +3 1d4+3, 20/x2, 50. ft.
[sblock=Spellcasting and Abilities]Orisons
: 3/Day - 0 Left
Other daily abilities
: 1/1 Remaining
: 1/1 Remaining[/sblock]
Total Coin: 20.51 GP
- We delivered the most successful Roughy River Run ever. Halflings must love us.
- Fhanna is a feisty dwarf.
- Caius gave his life to save the party from certain death.[/sblock][/sblock]