06-12-2017, 12:30 AM
After the bounty was posted, Joric crawled to his feet. Each movement earned a groan, his wounds not yet healed. "I want you to return to base. Try to describe who did this, maybe one of those bastards can draw or paint or sculpt or some shit," said Deon. "I'm going after that man. I know the Dunes best, if I find him, I'll contact the gang the coordinates... I don't intend to fight fare with this mother fucker."
Joric immediately shakes his head. "I wouldn't either... he's a demon, I swear it! He cut everyone down - made me ... made me..."
"I know. I saw... You aren't off the hook, but... it wasn't entirely your fault." Deon imagined it was an accident in the heat of battle, though the details eluded him. Friendly fire was not unheard of in very close quarters, especially with a particularly skilled opponent. "Go. Get everyone you can ready." The scroll chimes a light little tune, far too jaunty for the grave situation.
This will not due. We mourn Leon and Ban's loss. Have you learned of Joric's fate?
"They're asking about you," Deon stated. He furled the scroll and tucked it back in his bloody leather jacket. He said no more. Instead, he steps past Joric, through the man's pool of blood, and continued towards the gate his brother's murder had used. The straw sandal foot steps were visible for a brief moment after the pool, continuing in an unyielding path. Deon's feet made the second set of prints, though his boots left detailed print of heel and toe. The leather cowboy boots, compliments of the Dunes, were returning to his and Leon's original home. Deon's face was twisted into a look of pure malice. No more curses spilled from his lips. The silence was filled with far more rage than he could verbalize.
Joric was less cocksure than his friend. He was quick to flee in the opposite direction of the demon swordsman. It took him much longer to reach his gate, especially considering he was so slow. Not ten minutes into the long treck, he was huffing and puffing, forced to slow down. He had to make a stop first. Approaching the Fountain, he cringed at the smell. The corpses of his friends had not yet begun to decay, yet he could smell the stench from a fair ways off. He had heard stories, apparently true, that a dead man's last act is to release their bowels. "How foul," he muttered.
As he enters the pool of blood, he is forced to change his original plan. He would not carry Ban and Leo on his shoulders like previously considered... Instead, he took the massive metal club from the head of his fallen camrade and fitted it into a metal ring on his thigh, till the head was about hip-level. "Forgive me," he muttered as he grabbed each corpse by an ankle. Joric began a slow walk towards the Camelot gate. His jaw tensed. The smell was stomach curdling, and the thoughts running through his head only made the long walk worse.
Of the three members, Ban had been the fastest, with decent strength and resilience. Leo was the back-of-the-line cover fire with his deadly longbow. Joric was the slowest, but his strength and resilience were unmatched. Joric was supposed to be out front, not Ban. Joric was the one who could survive most lethal blows and still keep fighting. Ban is supposed to full-circle and strike from the back, while Leo snipes from any open angle. That is how this was supposed to be. It was a flawless plan! "Damn you, Ban," Joric muttered through clinched teeth. "This is your fault... You brought this on yourself, we had a plan... We had a god damn plan..."
Joric immediately shakes his head. "I wouldn't either... he's a demon, I swear it! He cut everyone down - made me ... made me..."
"I know. I saw... You aren't off the hook, but... it wasn't entirely your fault." Deon imagined it was an accident in the heat of battle, though the details eluded him. Friendly fire was not unheard of in very close quarters, especially with a particularly skilled opponent. "Go. Get everyone you can ready." The scroll chimes a light little tune, far too jaunty for the grave situation.
This will not due. We mourn Leon and Ban's loss. Have you learned of Joric's fate?
"They're asking about you," Deon stated. He furled the scroll and tucked it back in his bloody leather jacket. He said no more. Instead, he steps past Joric, through the man's pool of blood, and continued towards the gate his brother's murder had used. The straw sandal foot steps were visible for a brief moment after the pool, continuing in an unyielding path. Deon's feet made the second set of prints, though his boots left detailed print of heel and toe. The leather cowboy boots, compliments of the Dunes, were returning to his and Leon's original home. Deon's face was twisted into a look of pure malice. No more curses spilled from his lips. The silence was filled with far more rage than he could verbalize.
Joric was less cocksure than his friend. He was quick to flee in the opposite direction of the demon swordsman. It took him much longer to reach his gate, especially considering he was so slow. Not ten minutes into the long treck, he was huffing and puffing, forced to slow down. He had to make a stop first. Approaching the Fountain, he cringed at the smell. The corpses of his friends had not yet begun to decay, yet he could smell the stench from a fair ways off. He had heard stories, apparently true, that a dead man's last act is to release their bowels. "How foul," he muttered.
As he enters the pool of blood, he is forced to change his original plan. He would not carry Ban and Leo on his shoulders like previously considered... Instead, he took the massive metal club from the head of his fallen camrade and fitted it into a metal ring on his thigh, till the head was about hip-level. "Forgive me," he muttered as he grabbed each corpse by an ankle. Joric began a slow walk towards the Camelot gate. His jaw tensed. The smell was stomach curdling, and the thoughts running through his head only made the long walk worse.
Of the three members, Ban had been the fastest, with decent strength and resilience. Leo was the back-of-the-line cover fire with his deadly longbow. Joric was the slowest, but his strength and resilience were unmatched. Joric was supposed to be out front, not Ban. Joric was the one who could survive most lethal blows and still keep fighting. Ban is supposed to full-circle and strike from the back, while Leo snipes from any open angle. That is how this was supposed to be. It was a flawless plan! "Damn you, Ban," Joric muttered through clinched teeth. "This is your fault... You brought this on yourself, we had a plan... We had a god damn plan..."