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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Herremann the Wise" data-source="post: 2152516" data-attributes="member: 11300">MethuselasMethuselas looks around frantically finding no more hostile threats inside the hold. All he sees is the misery of slaves lying in their own filth, their outstretched hands pathetically reaching out. He looks around for something... anything that can help... but cannot, his head looking urgently from side to side."I'll be back to get you all out of here" he choked, the fresh air from above mixing fetidly with the stink of the hold.He then follows after the Erenlander with urgency, the taste of some form of freedom teasing his senses. He scrabbles up the ladder linking the hold to the main deck of the ship, not knowing exactly what to expect. Popping his head out, the blaze of light from above hit his senses with full force. He clenched his eyes, trying to see what was around him. It was as a nirvana; the beautiful desolation of orc bodies scattered like chaff  around the deck making him gasp. The extreme density of fog limited his vision, like the scene had been cut away from everything around - the wash of the sea indistinct, the rings of a distant rage of battle remote: the stage was set.However, Methuselas's attention was then suddenly focused as he perceived three figures in violent exchange from the other direction.[sblock] OOCSpot:[1] +1 = 2 SpotListen:[12] +5 = 17 Listen [/sblock]Methuselas looked for the young man he was following but could not see or hear any evidence of the Erenlander that had smashed his binding with a single strike. It was like he had vanished in the sweeping mists.***</blockquote>

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