Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24530992-20140803232256/@comment-5583506-20140805040824

(I am here...)

Mara followed the group. However she had lately been suffering to frequent headaches. She had no idea what caused them, but she thought that they could be post-effects from the experience of being skewered like a boar.

Each time the she got the migraine she believed that she saw things, things she should normally see while sleeping, in her dreams...

The most recent sight had been that of a wounded black wolf running through a forest. The creature cast a shadow more ominous than any other thing she had ever seen. Blood was seeping through its thick fur. She started to believe that perhaps all that talk of her being a child of Vaermina was a mistake. Maybe she was just another mentally troubled child with a chip on her shoulder...

-

"The wound won't get any better if ya are lyin' out here, ya'know?" said the voice.

Varg slowly opened his eyes and gazed up on the old man in front of him. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

The old man wrinkled his eyebrows. "Is that the way youngsters appeal to their elders these days?"

Varg looked around. He was lying in a ditch along the road. He was paler than usual and the wound didn't look all that pleasant. Must have passed out, he thought. "Where am I?"

"On the road to Anvil, lad", replied the old man. "Ya are lucky I found ya, I was just headin' there to buy myself some supplies for my farm."

Varg grunted as he rose up. Some more blood seeped out from the wound. "Probably best I headed back there myself", he muttered. "Could use some medical attention."

The old man looked at the wound with a concerned expression. "If I am to be frank with ya, it's a wonder ya're even standin', lad. Ya must have lost gallons of blood!"

He gave the old man a wolfish grin. "Heh, I bet my persecutors would have loved that. I probably have to hide myself from them when I enter the town, or else they will be all over my ass."

"On the run, are we? Well, it is not up to me to decide who is a bad man in this case, lad. But all the same, I cherish all life I come across whether it be good or bad. Come here, m'boy!"

The old man unloaded a package he was carrying on his back and pulled out a brown shirt. "It is dark enough to conceal that wound of yours, lad. Just don't try and get it all too bloodied up before we get to Anvil, or die on me for that matter..."

Varg pulled the worn shirt over his head. It was a bit tight as it was not fit for his frame. He gave the old man a suspicious stare. "Why are you helping me really? Any sane man would know not to help a fugitive on the run..."

"Well, this is kinda awkward", the old man said and scratched the back of his head a bit ashamed. "Ya see, the roads are barely a safe place for ol'men like myself to travel anymore. Full of bandits, ya'know? So I was thinking that as payment for my kindness, you could travel with to Anvil and keep me safe. The bandits would surelyt think twice, if not thrice, about attacking me as soon as they set your eyes on ya. No offense!"

"None taken", replied Varg and gave the old man a mischievous smile as they started to wander together along the road. "Bandits, huh?"