Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20140614015650/@comment-5543592-20140619021405

Emrey was cutting a swath through the townsfolk and guards, a blur of blocking, parrying and chopping. However the attention wasn't entirely focused on the group. The Legionnaires were still being slaughtered in their beds. The Legate's tent was a little demoralizing. It collasped and look uninhabited.

"Tribune!  Here!" Wheezed the Legate. He was lying on his side. There was a bloody gash on his neck, a crack in his skull, and part of one of his legs was torn off from the knee down. He was clutching a crossbow in one hand, trying to stop his bleeding leg with the other. It was very obvious he was going to die in a matter of minutes.

Emrey knelt next to the Legate. "Felix sent us here.  He's dead."

Legate nodded, not bothering to mourn. "We're all going to be if you don't do something."

"And what's that?"

"You need to take a side entrance into Chorrol  The north gate, opening straight into the castle should have minimal forces if it isn't completely clear.  Stop whatever is... controlling, these people.  You probably have half an hour at most before we're completely wiped out.  Don't expect re-enforcements."

Emrey nodded. "Understood.  Do you want me to..." He gestured to his sword and then to the Legate's chest.

"No." Said the Legate in between pained breaths. "I'm going to take as many of this shitheads with me before I go."

Emrey stood up. "Let's move." They then ran into the Great Forest, plotting a route north of Chorrol.

Emrey rose to his feet