Tirmut 5th, 1022
Scarwood Forest.
Northern Alcana.
With the sun on the decline and the notion for camp established, the quartet hurried about to take care of the necessary tasks to set up a safe campsite in unfamiliar territory. A small copse of trees stood on the opposite side of the packed-dirt pathway that served as a road, which seemed an ideal spot to take refuge. Distance from the swamp meant rest upon a dry ground, thus reducing the chances of catching cold or being victimized by bugs and vermin from the damp soil. And for the clear night that seemed to approach, there would be sufficient shelter.

Enough dry wood was rapidly gathered to start a small fire, and a rationed stack assembled nearby that would last throughout most of the night. By the time the gentle chill of the night settled in, the crackling blaze chased it away from the rescuers.

After digging into a half packet of dried beef, hard trail bread, and leathery apricots, hunger was staved off for the evening, and the first watch was taken by the scholarly Nicholas. But for the gentle popping of the campfire and the chorus of frogs and other nocturnal marshlife, his three hours passed quietly. Touching his divine blessings to bestow relief and strength upon himself and companions, Nick, satisfied with his shift, roused Kresimir for the change.

Waking to find his aches and pains of the strenuous days prior to be fully alleviated, his short rest was easy to stand from, and the Gano took the second sentry shift of the night. His turn passed much in the same way as Nick's, adding wood to the fire when need be and spending some time in thought while looking out into the darkness for signs of danger. No threats detected, and the crescent moon moving steadily through the night sky, the big warrior shook Tobias awake to take the third and final watch.

Like the previous two, the ex-Temple Knight was undisturbed throughout his three hours. Eyes on the swamp across the path, and finding the sounds drifting from it peaceful, Tobias burned through the rest of the wood supply as dawn approached, and enjoyed the lightening of the early morning hours on the eastern horizon. In the distance somewhere, he heard a bird herald the dawn, and one by one, his companions awoke to the new day. Koriss was the first to receive a full evening of rest.

Though the task before them was daunting, Scarwood looked magnificent beneath the rising sunrays. Lancing through the boughs and canopy of leaves, it was visible from even across the road that, despite the ominous name of the primeval domain and the bandits within, the woodlands still retained the beauty so dedicatedly protected by Candri and Darm.

(OOC: Part one of a two-part update. I just wanted to get something in tonight. If you wish, use this one to take advantage of the time to flesh out your character's thoughts, reflections, etc... If not, that's fine. I'll try to get the next one in tomorrow before work.)

Tirmut 6th, 1022
Scarwood Forest.
Northern Alcana.
The quiet night beneath the stars served well to bolster the energy reserves of the companions, and in the dawn's light, it was already evident that their search would be substantially easier than if they'd tried to push through the darkness. The tradeoff was the cover offered by the blanket of night, but comparatively, it would also protect them from ambushes in unfamiliar territory. Or at least, make it less likely.

Burying the embers in the firepit with a kicking of soil, and finishing off the remainder of the opened ration packet of the previous night, they gathered up their belongings and geared up, ready to begin their search.

Arranged in a line that would best compliment the strengths and defensibility of each member, Koriss took the vanguard, diving ahead and melting into the shadows in a way that Raslans learn from an early age. Survival skills in the urban wilds had their uses elsewhere, too, and it wasn't long before he became little more than a shifting blur twenty yards ahead of the other three. His keen eyes delved into the underbrush and deep into the treeline, but beyond the occasional stag or grouping of woodland hens, he detected little other life beyond themselves.

Following behind the Raslan, Tobias, Nick, and Kresimir carefully picked their way through the trees, their attempts at secrecy laughable compared to that of Koriss ahead. But considering that none were trained to sneak up on unsuspecting people, the three humans did relatively well in their efforts.

Koriss had to take special care to not get too far ahead of his companions, for despite his misshapen feet, his smaller stature allowed him to slip beneath obstacles that the others had to push through or go around altogether. But an hour or two passed in the depths of Scarwood before they reached a small clearing.

Barely twenty feet across, Koriss emerged into the sunny opening a few moments before the others, taking a minute to pick the twigs and leaves out of his gear. Deadfall lay around the edges, and a small bed of white flowers grew undisturbed to his right. Overgrown grasses stood stock-still, giving it a tranquil resemblance to a painting. It was refreshing.

To his careful ears, his companions made tremendous noise in their following, and he could only hope that the bandits themselves were not so astute. But, scanning the opening in the treetops, he noticed that beyond, to the left some ways, a thin wisp of smoke trailed away into the sky, disappearing before long. That could only mean campfire. Which meant they would be nearing their destination. It was difficult to tell, but it looked perhaps a quarter mile away, at absolute most.

Emerging from the network of branches and shrubbery, the three men stepped forth into the sunlight, and a gesture from the halfling set eyes upon the ghostly trail above the canopy. So far into the forest, it its unlikely that anybody would have every spotted it from the boundary line, but most people were sensible enough to stay out of the trees.

After a few minutes for a break, the quartet stepped across the clearing and into the forest once more, their direction towards the smoky marker. The trees thinned out slightly as they went, the soft ground staked with birch trees. The going was easier, but Koriss still took the lead. His silent steps padded gently, his small figure fluid in his movement, and all the while, his eyes looking out for sentries. But rather than seeing other people, the forest seemed almost untouched by mankind. The primordial scene was almost pleasant around him.

A small trickling brook.

Rabbits, darting into their warren.

A long thin branch arched to the ground.

Unthinking, he hopped over it and carried on before halting himself.

That's too unnatural...
He turned around, just in time to see Tobias press it to the ground with his boot, the slender bough collapsing easily beneath his boot. But stepping onwards, the limb lashed upwards, a thin line ripping up out of the leaves underfoot to release an ear-splitting cacophany of bells high within the branches of a nearby elm.

They stopped, all four of them dead in their tracks. The chiming persisted for almost an entire minute, resonating within the woodland for who knew how far. As it died off, the looks the group shot at each other all told the same thing.

Alarm!

As he heard the sounds of alarm the halfling looks to the ground for a moment and shook his head. Clumsy tall folk...
Sure that the rest of the group must have heard the alarm he dashed into the underbrush a split second later, disappearing as only one of his kind could. Daggers in hand he moved silently around the party, waiting and watching for the approach of bandit guards and searching for any place that prisoners might be kept.

He would protect his travelmates as well as he could, but if he found the location of the prisoners, he would ensure that no bandit came close on the chance that they meant to punish the innocents for the incursion of him and those with him.

(OOC: If bandits approach I will wait until I see an opening for a strike against a distracted opponent and take it, attacking and then disappearing as well as I am able.)

After administering to the wounds of his companions Nick found himself a place by the pile of extra firewood and took up his watch. Just in case something happened in the night he readied himself with the aid of various spells. (As detailed in the QA)

Thankfully his night passed uneventfully, interrupted only by the calls of nocturnal birds, the crackling of the flames, and the snores of his traveling companions. When the Gano awoke to relieve him for the next watch he sleepily made his way to the area he had previously set up his bedroll and removed his armor for the sake of comfort and a better night's rest.

As the night passed and his companions finally went about rousing them all from their sleep Nick immediately pulled out his travel journal and made personal notes of the day before, his night watch, and the dream he had had, as trivial as it had been. This had been his normal morning ritual since leaving his home, his way of paying homage to the watchful eyes of the Great Librarian, thanking him for the chance to gain further knowledge and the ability to travel another day in order to gain yet more knowledge. As he wrote he silently prayed, readying the divine gifts bestowed on him by his devout faith. (For the sake of simplicity, I'll just keep the spells on my character sheet prepped)

With his morning entry complete and his spells ready the cleric set about donning his armor and getting his pack and bedroll together before finishing off the rations he had started the previous night. (Will help anyone else don armor/accept help donning his to speed up the prep time)

As they finally got everything set to head out it was quickly determined that the Raslan would scout ahead a ways, followed by the Knight, himself, then the Gano. The trek was not easy as none of them were entirely familiar with the marshlands, a lot of time had to be spent finding ways over or around obstacles and avoiding the local wildlife. When they finally made it to a clearing he breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be clear of the thick undergrowth and spongy swamplands. That feeling of peace was brief though, as bells began to chime loudly through the area, they had tripped an alarm!

Quickly readying his Morningstar and casting Magic Weapon upon it he strapped his shield to his left forearm and prepared for what was certain to come. "Looks like we can expect some company soon, I suggest we get ready!"

The large Gano didn't mind the quiet of the night, as his watch and those of the people with him passed without incident. He figured this was the calm before the storm, and it was nice to ease more of the tension from his corded muscles as he took his rest. When first light came however, and the party was roused from sleep, the Gano knew that combat lay over the horizon, and perhaps closer still, behind the next tree, over the next rise, or worse, behind him ready to strike.

The Gano steadily picked through the underbrush atop Deliverance, guiding the strong mare slowly behind the others keeping his eyes open for anyone trying to circle around behind the party.

Stealth may not have been the party's forte, aside from Koriss, who flitted between the shadows and foiliage like a darting insect so naturally it almost unnerved the Gano.

Stealth may not have been the party's forte, but tripping an alarm which blared across the quiet morning in a cacophony sent a chill down Kresimir's spine. Hoisting the shield to his arm, and drawing the longsword from the scabbard at his hip, he dismounted, guiding Deliverance to the nearest tree with which to keep his back to the tree, wedging himself between the horse and the wooden obstacle in hopes of cutting off avenues of the attack he knew were to come. Kneeling, trying to keep as much of his body kept behind his shield arm, he kept his eyes open for those he expected to come.

Tirmut 6th, 1022
Scarwood Forest.
Northern Alcana.
Time seemed to slow right down as the crashing of bells died off into the forest. Koriss, reflexes honed from years on the rough city streets, dove into a nearby bush, using its concealment to scuttle away and prepare a counter-ambush. The three humans, though, were somewhat more sluggish to respond.

Trying to position himself and Deliverance in a position to avoid being surrounded on unfamiliar ground, Kresimir got down low behind his shield and readied himself. Several feet away, Nicholas took a similar course of action, calling upon his god-granted powers to make sure his morning star would be guided by otherworldly grace. Tobias eased sword from scabbard and raised him his shield, settling into a stance that allowed all three to have their backs in a triangular formation, just a few feet apart from one another. The better to stay alert and aware of what might approach.

Each breath sounding louder in the tense silence, the moments ticked by before the horse's ears pricked up, and Tobias was the first to locate the approach.

“Well now!” A voice sounded from the trees to his left, and he barely pivoted in time to feel the impact of a wooden missile against his shield. The shaft shattered into splinters, but the way it jarred his arm told him it was fired from a crossbow. Steadying his arm, he maneuvered the barrier into a more protective position as his eyes picked out a shadowy form about fifteen yards away from him.

A whistling through the air over Nick's shoulder indicated the direction to be the same as the shot at Tobias, and though the bolt missed the cleric, it struck Deliverance just behind the shoulder, causing the horse to whine and stomp about in pain, steering slightly away from the Gano beside it.

Another shot came from the same direction, indicating three attackers. Slamming into the tree trunk beside the ex-Templar, the marksman was spotted ducking down behind a bush. Tobias indicated their location with a toss of his head, and Kresimir, low behind his shield, moved in to take place beside his companions. Better a wall of shields than an exposed back. Especially when a stray shot might tag Deliverance in the process.

Almost shoulder-to-shoulder, the three shooters were picked out from amidst the trees and undergrowth of the woodland. Each about twenty-five feet apart, and many yards away, it became evident that the near-misses were not due to lack of skill. Rather, the tangle of nature's limbs that separated them created an overly challenging shooting gallery. Such would also slow-down forward movement, although caution would allow for sufficient duck-and-weave tactics to prove effective.

From the left-most side of the three attackers, a surprised shout turned the heads of the other two, as the one shadowy figure went down among the undergrowth. The companions could see the two standing bandits communicate to each other before one split off and moved over to investigate while the other raised crossbow and fired another shot. Seeing this attack coming, Kresimir ducked his head behind his shield and braced against it as the collision shook his arm to the shoulder.

*****

Boots settling near his hiding place told Koriss that the time was close. He'd maneuvered himself carefully to take advantage of his smaller size, and the positioning allowed for almost a mugging sort of tactic to be employed. Looking out from beneath the juniper bush he hid beneath, the Raslan edged himself out and around to the left, rising carefully to his feet behind the bandit.

The man was cloaked in black, many feet taller than himself, and with a hood up over his head. While it would make it a little more difficult to take him out, Koriss also hoped that it would interfere with his peripheral vision enough to make it easier to sneak up, especially while focused on rewinding his crossbow for another shot.

His bandage-crippled feet, now as comfortable as any Buunta's broad soles, padded carefully as he drew one of his daggers from its sheath. Extending a hand carefully, he ran the motions through his mind, and decided that the hood would make things a little too difficult. He'd just change the strike. A sudden push at the back of the bandit's knees knocked the man from balance, and as he fell forwards with a startled cry, Koriss rushed in close and rammed his dagger up to the hilt into the thug's kidney. With a sharp twist and a jerk, he felt blood rush over his hand. Withdrawing the blade, he pushed the body away and looked up in time to see one of the others slipping around some nearby willows taking sight of the exposed halfling, and raised his crossbow.

Koriss barely had time to react, diving into the nearest bush he could find. But the attacker led the shot, and while it didn't find bone, the bolt tore a painful gouge out of his right thigh. Biting back the pain of it, the Raslan recovered and did his best to disappear again, while the shooter ducked low and began a reload, nestled behind the willow patch about fifteen feet away.

(OOC: I've run things in two rounds here [One being their surprise round and the next being your reactions to it and the second volley.]

The two standing bandits are reachable in one round in a full-movement rush, or can be carefully reached on the second round. Koriss can attempt to reach the one nearest him in a normal move. There is cover everywhere, easily within reach for all members.

Nicholas: 23/23
Koriss: 9/15 – Leg wound.
Tobias: 31/31
Kresimir: 38/38

Two bandits remain.
One bandit dead.

Congratulations to Koriss for the first critical hit delivered.)

The little one grimaced in pain as he tested his leg. The blood was flowing freely, but he didn't have time to bandage it right now. As much as it hurt, it seemed his leg would, in fact, support his weight.

Well, one down, and two left. Perhaps I can at least serve as a distraction to allow the others to get a bit closer...
Quickly and as silently as possible the Raslan moved over beside the nearest bandit. He watched the eyes of his foe, to see if they followed him, or they stayed where he last dove into the underbrush.

(If the bandit seems to track Koriss' movements he will fling a dagger from behind cover and then move silently to another spot, a bit closer. If he doesn't seem to detect me or turns his attention back on the others I'll go for another sneak attack).

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he moved through the underbrush like a soft breeze...

The normally cautious scholar defied his better judgment and rushed toward the nearest bandit, holding his shield in front of him as he charged. In the back of his mind he could hear himself yelling about how foolish this course of action was, but it was too late, the pressure of being on the run and being attacked again had pushed the cleric to a dark place. It was time to stand and act, no more backing down, no more hiding behind others, he had to seize the moment and take his life into his own hands.

(Assuming the foliage isn't too dense to allow a charge, then Nick will attempt to smash his blessed weapon into the foe. If the terrain prevents him from also getting his attack then he'll assume a defensive stance. At the very least it prevents any more sniping from cover, even if it does provoke at attack of opportunity)

Kresimir heard the whinny of Deliverance and his eyes turned cold. Cowardly bandits, firing wildly from the cover of foliage and shadow. They were hard pressed, being at a distance, and their shield wall would only slow projectiles for so long, until bit by bit they were whittled away at like a knife to a piece of scrimshaw.

The holy man, his weapon aglow in a faint aura took to the charge, and with it set Kresimir into action. The large man sprang into action, his powerful legs pushing him forward with uncanny speed despite being armour laden. (Barbarian Spd Bonus) Setting his Shield forward he too charged the nearest bandit,Letting loose a great gutteral roar as he went, attempting to place himself between their bolts and the healer.

In the back of Grimm's mind there was the faint logic that he could take a few blows, that the holy man would mend them, and though he knew not the extent of his godly gifts, he needed Nick to survive if only to tend to his horse. In the rest of his mind however, there was little more than an overwhelming desire to inflict great pain upon those before him.

Tirmut 6th, 1022
Scarwood Forest.
Northern Alcana.
Leaping into action, the trio of shield-bearers rushed forth to close the gap between themselves and the marksman ahead. Upon powerful legs accustomed to carrying his bulk across the grasslands, Kresimir pushed ahead of his companions, and as the most imminent threat, saw the bandit draw a line on him with his crossbow.

Though the foliage had prevented him from actually getting in front of Nicholas, the effect was the same, and he hefted his shield a little higher to protect his head and chest, but the bolt went low and rammed hard into his flank. He winced under the impact, and slowed his pace for a moment, casting a glance down to the wound. The stubby quarrel had buried itself almost entirely into his flesh, just above the hip bone.

Clenching his teeth, the Gano pushed forth again, closing the gap in a hurry and leaping a fallen tree to come upon the shooter like a beast upon its prey. Unloading his gathered momentum into the swing, he brought his sword down in an arc before his feet touched the leaves underfoot. Attempting to cleave the hooded head in one stroke, he felt an unnatural resistance on his weapon, and realized that his jump had tangled the steel blade in tree branches, slowing his swing just enough for the bandit to sidestep.

Not as fast as the savage warrior, even after the injury, Nicholas was able to keep pace well enough to come around from the bandit's backside, taking advantage of the sniper's attention being on the towering Kresimir in his face. His god-blessed morningstar tracing a glowing streak in its arc, the cleric swung at the cloaked backside, and managed to score a blow that drew a cry of pain from beneath the hood, catching him on the back of the arm.

Twisting about to face his new assailant, the bandit's crossbow hit the ground with a dull thud as he produced a dull shortsword from beneath his cloak, lunging for Nicholas. While not entirely facing either of his opponents, the blow struck home with a deep slice across Nick's shield-arm, opening up his bicep.

Tobias was slow out of the gate, lagging enough behind his companions to see Nick take the sword stroke fifteen feet before him. It was his delay that may have prevented them from being scissored from behind, though, as streaking quarrel raked his forearm, slamming into the back of his shield. Ignoring the blood, he turned around to see a pair of hooded figures emerging from the bushes where the warrior had just rushed forth from. One was lowering am emptied crossbow, while its partner had grabbed Deliverence's reins, neatly saddling the horse and kicking off into the trees. While the bandit certainly was not the owner of the mount, neither had Kresimir long been in possession of it, and like lightning, they were gone into the thickets.

It happened so quickly that Tobias hardly had time to process it. Of course! Only three to investigate DID seem a small group, especially with so many hiding places.

Reversing his direction to run down the ambusher, Tobias closed the distance with haste, and a quick shield punch knocked the crossbow aside, while his sword flashed forth to sever the fingers from his left hand. The hooded shooter roared in pain as the ex-Templar bore down on him, but another swipe was ducked as the bandit tried to backpedal into a more defensible position.

*****

Koriss held himself stock-still, biting back the pain in his leg as he peered through the leaves of the bush he hid beneath. He could see the bandit behind his cover, reloading his crossbow and scanning about to try to find the halfling. Pulling himself across the forest floor, inch by inch to hide his motions, Koriss managed to circle a quarter way around the shooter, who still looked about at where he last saw the rogue.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kresimir and Nicholas engaging the other bandit, and Koriss' own quarry turned his head to assess his comrade. This would be his chance, with about ten feet of open ground to cover, and the Raslan pulled himself from the leaves and branches, rushing forwards with a blade in each hand. In a second, he'd be all over the shooter, and he kicked off for a pounce, intending to take away the bandit's room to shoot.

But as he launched himself, he heard the cursed snap of a trigger being pulled, and his keen eyes saw the positioning of the crossbow; bridged over the sniper's thigh and angled right at the leaping halfling. He realized that the man in black had merely played dumb, that this was his own turf while the crowded streets were where Koriss reigned. From such close range, he clenched his teeth, knowing that the shot might bury him, and readied himself for it.

He felt the pin-point impact upon the stomach of his leather armour, and didn't realize until after he had tackled the bandit to the dirt that it had failed to penetrate. Whether it was the angle, or the fact that the missile didn't have sufficient time to accelerate, Koriss was upon the man and stabbing at him with both blades, though his startled moment caused him to poorly direct his own slices. Both blades merely rent the black cloak to shreds while the shooter tried to wrestle the small figure off of him.

(OOC: A bit of a beating taken this round.

Nicholas: 17/23 – Sliced bicep, shield arm.
Koriss: 9/15 – Leg wound.
Tobias: 25/31 – Grazed shield arm.
Kresimir: 32/38 – Injured left flank, bolt remaining in wound.

Two bandits injured.
One bandit pinned by Koriss.
One bandit dead.
One bandit escaped, stealing Deliverence.

Let's see what you've got.)

As the bandit's blade sliced his arm the cleric winced in pain, and it was all he could to not drop the shield to the ground. Again he raised his morningstar, swinging it hard at the bandit, hoping for a more lethal strike against his foe this time.

With a feral snarl of frustration the halfling buries (or at least attempts) both of his daggers in the vital spots (throat, spleen, etc.) of the man he has pinned to the ground. Once he is sure the man is dead, he moves once again into the shadows and underbrush, seeking his next opening to strike, and searching those same shadows for more bandits.

Grimm snarled as the crossbow bolt sank deep into his leg, but to stop was to allow more time for more pointy little distractions to draw upon his flesh. He closed the gap quickly, an overhead swing ready for the kill, but it snagged on low hanging vines and slowed the mighty blades descent.

Recovering, and leading with his shield this time, he pushed forward, only to reverse the rotation of his body and come back with a vicious side swing, hoping to avoid any more obstacles.

In the distance he heard the sound of Deliverance being taken, but he would deal with that later, perhaps when they came upon the bandit camp itself. For now, there was blood to spill.

Tirmut 6th, 1022
Scarwood Forest.
Northern Alcana.
Despite his smaller size, Koriss put up a remarkable struggle against the structurally larger bandit, working his quick hands to bring his knives into striking position. In an overhand grip, he tried to stab down for the throat, but had his blade redirected to the side by the bandit's flailing arm. Sinking it to the handle in the soft dirt, stars exploded in the halfling's skull as a black-cloaked elbow crashed into his face.

Feeling his nose break, involuntary tears welled up in Koriss' eyes, and it took all his strength not to lose his position. Swiping blindly, he felt his dagger hit home, though the blow wasn't angled well enough to be lethal. Still, feeling blood lap onto his hand, he renewed his assault. Trying to use his knees to keep the human from recovering himself, the Raslan sank one blade into his belly and managed to ram the other between the ribs under his right arm. Giving it a twist, he screwed the dagger in for maximum organ damage, and felt the man's movements slow before falling still altogether.

Winning the struggle, he let go of the buried knives and sat back on the leafy ground, wiping the blood from his face and trying to ease the pressure welling around his eyes. Doing his best, he scanned the shadowy surroundings for further assailants, but as far as his blurry vision could tell, there were no more approaching.

*****

The paired cleric and tribal warrior used the tangled battleground to their advantage, positioning themselves to deny the bandit room to outmaneuver them. With the cloaked figure pincered between them, each made feints to try to open up the guard, and it was Nick to make the first move. Crow-hopping and winding up, he swung his divinely-guided bludgeon in a downward crescent, bringing it down with a crushing impact that caused the brigand to stagger.

Taking advantage of the flinch, Kresimir moved in with his shield raised. The approach caught the bandit's eye, and he lunged in with a thrust for the barbarian's sternum. Bracing his arm, the big Gano neatly shunted the blade aside with his shield, and swept in with his own. Faking and twisting at the last moment with surprising speed for his bulk, he came about from the opposite angle, and unloaded the strength of his arm in a brutal slash that opened wide the bandit's throat. Blood fanned horizontally in its wake, trailing behind the sword blade, and the man dropped limply to the dirt.

*****

Seeking to end the fight, Tobias powered in after the injured thug, his boots tearing up the earth as he rushed, his sword blade leading the way. The warrior almost tripped over his quarry, though, as he went prone at the last moment. Tobias clumsily leapt over the fallen body, losing his momentum in the process, and cried out in pain as white fire lanced up his left leg. A hidden blade had appeared in the bandit's grip, which was now sunken deep into his calve.

Twisting back, the ex-templar could see anger in the attacker's eyes, and despite the missing digits on his hand, he still moved with surprising quickness. Ripping the knife free, the bandit went for the hamstring, cutting across the muscle grain with a deep slice that nearly caused Tobias to fall to the ground. Tapping into his inner reserves for strength, he bellowed a mighty war cry and raised his blade high, taking full advantage of the close proximity. Putting all his might into the swing, he drove the sword clean through the rogue's head, spilling brains and ichor to the dirt around his boots.

Dropping his sword to the leaves, he pulled the dagger out of his leg and collapsed to the ground, pressing a hand against the injury to keep the slice closed. Sitting back and taking a quick scan of the woodland battleground, the conflict had ended, though they lost their horse and, through his pain, failed to see where the rider had disappeared to. That would have to wait. At the moment, he could hardly stand.

(OOC: First battle = Victory!

Nicholas: 17/23 – Sliced bicep, shield arm.
Koriss: 9 (3)/15 – Leg wound, broken nose. 6 Subdual damage.
Tobias: 10/31 – Grazed shield arm, injured calve and hamstring.
Kresimir: 32/38 – Injured left flank, bolt remaining in wound.

Four dead bandits. One escaped with Deliverance.

Two updates in one week. Really, not bad.)

The Raslan wiped his blades off on the dead man's clothes before sheathing them in his harness. Then he placed both hands upside his nose. With a sickening crunch and a slight squeek he repositioned his nose back to its rightful place on his face.

Now to bandage my leg.
After searching a bit through the foliage, he came up with a few long leaves from a nearby plant. Hoping they weren't poisonous he wiped clean his leg wound and then bandaged the wound with the leaves.

I look a mess. This is hardly heroic, but I'm sure with a few spins this will be an epic battle for my tales when we return to camp.
The thought brought a grin to his face.

"Is everyone else alright?"