Ooc: tags to
@SpiritDragon M tag for mature: blood and probably language
Blood. There had been so much blood. It coated him thickly, from head to toe,making his black skin and leathers appear red, even the white of his hair was soaked crimson. Not all of the blood was his, but the heavy wound he clutched at his side certainly blended in naturally with the rest of the carnage.
He wasn't sure when it all went wrong, but has he'd known his enemy was playing with
dragons he would have considered asking for more coin. Damn Adelans. Sometimes he was surprised surface dwellers could be as conniving as drow.
The gash on his head wound began to seep into his eye, and he simply closed it, not bothering to wipe it away. He simply continued to limp forward through the dense wood, breathing heavily, despite the need to be discrete. He wasn't sure if any of those damn creatures had survived, but he sure as hell wasn't about to go back and check. If they had, they might be on his trail, but from what he could tell, all that remained if the flightless beasts was blood and carcasses.
Soon he might fair the same, the thought made him grunt as he limped along. He was never so lucky. Vlint'ner
the crow, boasted the worst of luck. Some might say it was good luck he survived the insane encounters and carnage that he did...
But those were the idiots that embellished his stories that made
the crow moniker all but legendary. Shelly, one particular tavern keep who also doubled at giving Vlint jobs from time to time, was certainly one to blame. Although this conundrum was a whole other beast, and the tavern keep was not to blame. Infact, Shelly
had warned him. Bastard.
Vlint wasn't sure how long he has walked before he collapsed within a thicket of dying wood. The trees were tall and dense and heavy shadows blanketed his heavy breathing form. It had been a cloudy night and as he lay there, closing his eyes, the clouds began to break and soft moonlight filtered through the trees and danced across his form.
It was a small, serene moment at the end of the chaos. The night wind smelled sweetly of dew and decaying moss, earthy and peppered with ferns and pine. He rather liked the coolwinds of the night, and the cool touch of the moon.
He supposed if he died out here, atleast his last few moments might be in peace. And that's when he drifted off into a listless slumber, his blood bathed body barely visible were it not for the winds and the waking moon.