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<blockquote data-quote="Kobold Stew" data-source="post: 7093879" data-attributes="member: 23484"><p>Tranio takes the chain shirt, and tries it on for size. Apart from the huge tear over the heart, and the associated bloodstains which redden his undershirt, and one or two arrow holes, it fits fine. He seems overjoyed. He leaves his scale mail, still shining and newly polished, and offers it to one of the guards. "Perhaps you'd like it, or it would be fitting to bury someone in?" he asks. </p><p></p><p>In any case, he seems happy with the exchange, even if the deceased does not give formal approval. Then he sets to work, beginning with the arrow holes. A quick mending spell over each causes the chain links to animate and reform, knitting themselves together the way a crystal might grow in an alchemist's lab. First one, then the next, reaching behind him, his elbow akimbo in order to reach the hole that now is no longer there. </p><p></p><p>Finally, the rent over the heart. The mending is less perfect this time, and you can still see where the opening has knitted itself together, a long gash across Tranio's chest signifying a life lost in a battle in which he himself never fought. The blood will wash off in time, the cleric thinks. </p><p></p><p>The sword was easier to find, still clutched by a hand that stretches from beneath one of the boulders that he now realizes must have been thrown by the giants. There was probably a scabbard there too, he thinks, but Tranio has no means to move the boulder, and so finds another, decorated with a horsehair plume as if it once belonged to a cavalry officer, or a teenage girl. </p><p></p><p>It was then that mention of other horsemen (or were they the same?), approaching quickly, rung in his ears. Tranio ran to a defensive position -- a window perhaps, or an arrow slit, from which he could see the horsemen approach. </p><p></p><p>He readies a spell, chill touch, to send into the middle of whatever pack should appear.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Kobold Stew, post: 7093879, member: 23484"] Tranio takes the chain shirt, and tries it on for size. Apart from the huge tear over the heart, and the associated bloodstains which redden his undershirt, and one or two arrow holes, it fits fine. He seems overjoyed. He leaves his scale mail, still shining and newly polished, and offers it to one of the guards. "Perhaps you'd like it, or it would be fitting to bury someone in?" he asks. In any case, he seems happy with the exchange, even if the deceased does not give formal approval. Then he sets to work, beginning with the arrow holes. A quick mending spell over each causes the chain links to animate and reform, knitting themselves together the way a crystal might grow in an alchemist's lab. First one, then the next, reaching behind him, his elbow akimbo in order to reach the hole that now is no longer there. Finally, the rent over the heart. The mending is less perfect this time, and you can still see where the opening has knitted itself together, a long gash across Tranio's chest signifying a life lost in a battle in which he himself never fought. The blood will wash off in time, the cleric thinks. The sword was easier to find, still clutched by a hand that stretches from beneath one of the boulders that he now realizes must have been thrown by the giants. There was probably a scabbard there too, he thinks, but Tranio has no means to move the boulder, and so finds another, decorated with a horsehair plume as if it once belonged to a cavalry officer, or a teenage girl. It was then that mention of other horsemen (or were they the same?), approaching quickly, rung in his ears. Tranio ran to a defensive position -- a window perhaps, or an arrow slit, from which he could see the horsemen approach. He readies a spell, chill touch, to send into the middle of whatever pack should appear. [/QUOTE]
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