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The sun shone through the haze of the billowing smoke still rising from the smoldering arena. The riot at the chariot races the day before had been nothing short of chaotic. The king dead, the second son assuming the role. It had all gone as planned. As planned by the Creed. Everyone had done their part. Except for one… As the morning sun rose higher in the sky, it shone it light down on a form, lying supine in the dirt and muck. He was covered in black wrappings, not a bit of skin showing. Even his head and face were covered, as if he were blind. The clothing and wrappings were caked in blood at various points, his right knee was swollen, his left shoulder as well. And the man seemed to barely be drawing breath.
He was lying not far from the arena, but was positioned in the middle of a little used path. In his frenzied rush to escape the main fighting, he had searched for some secure spot to regain his breathe and take stock of his injuries. He hadn’t meant to run. Hadn’t meant to abandon the mission. But survival instincts were a hard master to combat. He’s been taken by surprise, a rarity for this one. Hit on the head, dizzied. He’d had a hard time defeating his foe. Beaten and bloodied, with little use of his left arm, he’d blindly run. He had paused here, in this semi-out of the way location, to regain his bearings and take inventory of his injuries. He’d just started to realize that his action could be considered desertion. An act punishable by death, have no doubt. He turned to start back to the fight. Find a way back in without being seen, for his life would be forfeit if he was found out. But the dizziness fogged his mind, his vision faded and darkness swallowed him even as he hit the ground.
The wrapped man had not moved since his collapse, oblivious to the passing of time, unable to hear the sounds of the world continuing on around him. He did not even dream, so deeply consuming was the darkness that pulled him under. His only hope of escaping his current condition, would be if someone happened to find him. Happened to take mercy on him. But would that mercy be a swift end to existence or one of gentle caring?
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The sun shone through the haze of the billowing smoke still rising from the smoldering arena. The riot at the chariot races the day before had been nothing short of chaotic. The king dead, the second son assuming the role. It had all gone as planned. As planned by the Creed. Everyone had done their part. Except for one… As the morning sun rose higher in the sky, it shone it light down on a form, lying supine in the dirt and muck. He was covered in black wrappings, not a bit of skin showing. Even his head and face were covered, as if he were blind. The clothing and wrappings were caked in blood at various points, his right knee was swollen, his left shoulder as well. And the man seemed to barely be drawing breath.
He was lying not far from the arena, but was positioned in the middle of a little used path. In his frenzied rush to escape the main fighting, he had searched for some secure spot to regain his breathe and take stock of his injuries. He hadn’t meant to run. Hadn’t meant to abandon the mission. But survival instincts were a hard master to combat. He’s been taken by surprise, a rarity for this one. Hit on the head, dizzied. He’d had a hard time defeating his foe. Beaten and bloodied, with little use of his left arm, he’d blindly run. He had paused here, in this semi-out of the way location, to regain his bearings and take inventory of his injuries. He’d just started to realize that his action could be considered desertion. An act punishable by death, have no doubt. He turned to start back to the fight. Find a way back in without being seen, for his life would be forfeit if he was found out. But the dizziness fogged his mind, his vision faded and darkness swallowed him even as he hit the ground.
The wrapped man had not moved since his collapse, oblivious to the passing of time, unable to hear the sounds of the world continuing on around him. He did not even dream, so deeply consuming was the darkness that pulled him under. His only hope of escaping his current condition, would be if someone happened to find him. Happened to take mercy on him. But would that mercy be a swift end to existence or one of gentle caring?
The sun shone through the haze of the billowing smoke still rising from the smoldering arena. The riot at the chariot races the day before had been nothing short of chaotic. The king dead, the second son assuming the role. It had all gone as planned. As planned by the Creed. Everyone had done their part. Except for one… As the morning sun rose higher in the sky, it shone it light down on a form, lying supine in the dirt and muck. He was covered in black wrappings, not a bit of skin showing. Even his head and face were covered, as if he were blind. The clothing and wrappings were caked in blood at various points, his right knee was swollen, his left shoulder as well. And the man seemed to barely be drawing breath.
He was lying not far from the arena, but was positioned in the middle of a little used path. In his frenzied rush to escape the main fighting, he had searched for some secure spot to regain his breathe and take stock of his injuries. He hadn’t meant to run. Hadn’t meant to abandon the mission. But survival instincts were a hard master to combat. He’s been taken by surprise, a rarity for this one. Hit on the head, dizzied. He’d had a hard time defeating his foe. Beaten and bloodied, with little use of his left arm, he’d blindly run. He had paused here, in this semi-out of the way location, to regain his bearings and take inventory of his injuries. He’d just started to realize that his action could be considered desertion. An act punishable by death, have no doubt. He turned to start back to the fight. Find a way back in without being seen, for his life would be forfeit if he was found out. But the dizziness fogged his mind, his vision faded and darkness swallowed him even as he hit the ground.
The wrapped man had not moved since his collapse, oblivious to the passing of time, unable to hear the sounds of the world continuing on around him. He did not even dream, so deeply consuming was the darkness that pulled him under. His only hope of escaping his current condition, would be if someone happened to find him. Happened to take mercy on him. But would that mercy be a swift end to existence or one of gentle caring?
Thras had left Lais at their camp outside town, she was tending to their midday meal, and he made an excuse to go to town, saying that he was going to talk to a fletcher to procure some supplies he needed to make his arrows. In reality he had everything he needed for his arrows, and instead he intended to surprise her with some perfume or perhaps a piece of jewelry. He had been saving up little bits of money here and there without her noticing, and he wished to use it towards something for her. Lais deserved absolutely everything in his mind, and though they didn’t have a lot of money, he would do what he could to provide a few nice things when he was able to.
And so he had ridden off on his horse, Aethon, the pure black horse a stark contrast to that of his wife, in search of a present that he felt was good enough for the love of his life.
Thrasius suddenly pulled back on the reins of his horse, skidding to a stop and kicking up a dust cloud around him and his horse as he did. The animal came to a stop just inches from a man who lay on the ground, seemingly unconscious. He looked around, a confused look on his face. There was no one around, and Thras had no idea how long this man might have been laying here for. Surely someone had come across him at some point, and yet it seemed no one stopped to help him.
Was he drunk?
He carefully slid off his horse, wincing a little as his feet hit the ground and a bit of pain ran up his bad leg. He walked slowly and cautiously closer to this man, knowing if he had to escape, he wasn’t exactly fast on foot.
“Hello?” He called out, earning no reaction from the figure on the ground.
“Are you alright?” He said a little louder, still nothing.
He moved closer and shifted to sit in the dirt beside him, right leg in it’s brace stretched out straight off to the side. He wasn’t able to crouch and check on the man, so sit he did.
He noticed a bit of a shine to the man’s black coverings, blood it seemed. Thras carefully put a hand on his chest. He could feel him breathing, which meant he was alive at least. He knew that he probably shouldn’t get involved in what ever was going on with this man, but it wasn’t in his nature to just leave him here, bleeding in the dirt.
So, he shifted and got himself back up on his feet before he bent over and grabbed one of the man’s arms. He put the man’s arm around his shoulders, using his back, he hefted the unconscious stranger up, his other arm wrapping around his legs to hold onto him. He carried him over to his horse, carefully placing him on his stomach over the horse, he climbed back into the saddle, realizing there was now blood on himself and his horse. Lais would kill him for both things.
He took the reins of his horse once more and clicked his tongue, and on command the horse started off in a gentle trot, Thrasius guiding him back towards the road that would lead him out of town and towards the small forest clearing where he and his wife had made their camp.
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Thras had left Lais at their camp outside town, she was tending to their midday meal, and he made an excuse to go to town, saying that he was going to talk to a fletcher to procure some supplies he needed to make his arrows. In reality he had everything he needed for his arrows, and instead he intended to surprise her with some perfume or perhaps a piece of jewelry. He had been saving up little bits of money here and there without her noticing, and he wished to use it towards something for her. Lais deserved absolutely everything in his mind, and though they didn’t have a lot of money, he would do what he could to provide a few nice things when he was able to.
And so he had ridden off on his horse, Aethon, the pure black horse a stark contrast to that of his wife, in search of a present that he felt was good enough for the love of his life.
Thrasius suddenly pulled back on the reins of his horse, skidding to a stop and kicking up a dust cloud around him and his horse as he did. The animal came to a stop just inches from a man who lay on the ground, seemingly unconscious. He looked around, a confused look on his face. There was no one around, and Thras had no idea how long this man might have been laying here for. Surely someone had come across him at some point, and yet it seemed no one stopped to help him.
Was he drunk?
He carefully slid off his horse, wincing a little as his feet hit the ground and a bit of pain ran up his bad leg. He walked slowly and cautiously closer to this man, knowing if he had to escape, he wasn’t exactly fast on foot.
“Hello?” He called out, earning no reaction from the figure on the ground.
“Are you alright?” He said a little louder, still nothing.
He moved closer and shifted to sit in the dirt beside him, right leg in it’s brace stretched out straight off to the side. He wasn’t able to crouch and check on the man, so sit he did.
He noticed a bit of a shine to the man’s black coverings, blood it seemed. Thras carefully put a hand on his chest. He could feel him breathing, which meant he was alive at least. He knew that he probably shouldn’t get involved in what ever was going on with this man, but it wasn’t in his nature to just leave him here, bleeding in the dirt.
So, he shifted and got himself back up on his feet before he bent over and grabbed one of the man’s arms. He put the man’s arm around his shoulders, using his back, he hefted the unconscious stranger up, his other arm wrapping around his legs to hold onto him. He carried him over to his horse, carefully placing him on his stomach over the horse, he climbed back into the saddle, realizing there was now blood on himself and his horse. Lais would kill him for both things.
He took the reins of his horse once more and clicked his tongue, and on command the horse started off in a gentle trot, Thrasius guiding him back towards the road that would lead him out of town and towards the small forest clearing where he and his wife had made their camp.
Thras had left Lais at their camp outside town, she was tending to their midday meal, and he made an excuse to go to town, saying that he was going to talk to a fletcher to procure some supplies he needed to make his arrows. In reality he had everything he needed for his arrows, and instead he intended to surprise her with some perfume or perhaps a piece of jewelry. He had been saving up little bits of money here and there without her noticing, and he wished to use it towards something for her. Lais deserved absolutely everything in his mind, and though they didn’t have a lot of money, he would do what he could to provide a few nice things when he was able to.
And so he had ridden off on his horse, Aethon, the pure black horse a stark contrast to that of his wife, in search of a present that he felt was good enough for the love of his life.
Thrasius suddenly pulled back on the reins of his horse, skidding to a stop and kicking up a dust cloud around him and his horse as he did. The animal came to a stop just inches from a man who lay on the ground, seemingly unconscious. He looked around, a confused look on his face. There was no one around, and Thras had no idea how long this man might have been laying here for. Surely someone had come across him at some point, and yet it seemed no one stopped to help him.
Was he drunk?
He carefully slid off his horse, wincing a little as his feet hit the ground and a bit of pain ran up his bad leg. He walked slowly and cautiously closer to this man, knowing if he had to escape, he wasn’t exactly fast on foot.
“Hello?” He called out, earning no reaction from the figure on the ground.
“Are you alright?” He said a little louder, still nothing.
He moved closer and shifted to sit in the dirt beside him, right leg in it’s brace stretched out straight off to the side. He wasn’t able to crouch and check on the man, so sit he did.
He noticed a bit of a shine to the man’s black coverings, blood it seemed. Thras carefully put a hand on his chest. He could feel him breathing, which meant he was alive at least. He knew that he probably shouldn’t get involved in what ever was going on with this man, but it wasn’t in his nature to just leave him here, bleeding in the dirt.
So, he shifted and got himself back up on his feet before he bent over and grabbed one of the man’s arms. He put the man’s arm around his shoulders, using his back, he hefted the unconscious stranger up, his other arm wrapping around his legs to hold onto him. He carried him over to his horse, carefully placing him on his stomach over the horse, he climbed back into the saddle, realizing there was now blood on himself and his horse. Lais would kill him for both things.
He took the reins of his horse once more and clicked his tongue, and on command the horse started off in a gentle trot, Thrasius guiding him back towards the road that would lead him out of town and towards the small forest clearing where he and his wife had made their camp.
Blackness.
A sharp pain in his shoulder. The vague sensation of someone's hand on his arm. Tugging? He tried to respond, tried to pull away and defend himself. But his body did not listen to the mental commands. Why couldn't he move?
Blackness.
A sensation of moving. Had his body finally listened to his silent screams? No. The movement was too fast. Was that the sound of a horse's hooves hitting the ground? Had his Brothers found him? Were they taking him to Shade? Did they know he'd run? Did they see that he'd tried to turn back, rejoin the fight?
Blackness.
He managed to open his eyes this time. The ground rushed by beneath him. Hooves. So it was a horse he heard. He couldn't even feel his body draped over the animal's back. Probably a good thing. Who was guiding this beast? He managed a tiny turn of his throbbing head. A person's leg. What is that on it?
Blackness.
The face of a man pulling him down from the horse. Another sharp sensation in his shoulder made him take the first deep breath he'd managed in a while - a gasping inhale of pain.
Blackness.
Flames. A fire? A tent? Or was that clothes hanging on a line? Everything was so disjointed and jumbled. He couldn't make sense of it all. His head was throbbing. If it continued he was afraid he'd empty the contents of his stomach all over the man carrying him.
The sweet relief of blackness.
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Blackness.
A sharp pain in his shoulder. The vague sensation of someone's hand on his arm. Tugging? He tried to respond, tried to pull away and defend himself. But his body did not listen to the mental commands. Why couldn't he move?
Blackness.
A sensation of moving. Had his body finally listened to his silent screams? No. The movement was too fast. Was that the sound of a horse's hooves hitting the ground? Had his Brothers found him? Were they taking him to Shade? Did they know he'd run? Did they see that he'd tried to turn back, rejoin the fight?
Blackness.
He managed to open his eyes this time. The ground rushed by beneath him. Hooves. So it was a horse he heard. He couldn't even feel his body draped over the animal's back. Probably a good thing. Who was guiding this beast? He managed a tiny turn of his throbbing head. A person's leg. What is that on it?
Blackness.
The face of a man pulling him down from the horse. Another sharp sensation in his shoulder made him take the first deep breath he'd managed in a while - a gasping inhale of pain.
Blackness.
Flames. A fire? A tent? Or was that clothes hanging on a line? Everything was so disjointed and jumbled. He couldn't make sense of it all. His head was throbbing. If it continued he was afraid he'd empty the contents of his stomach all over the man carrying him.
The sweet relief of blackness.
Blackness.
A sharp pain in his shoulder. The vague sensation of someone's hand on his arm. Tugging? He tried to respond, tried to pull away and defend himself. But his body did not listen to the mental commands. Why couldn't he move?
Blackness.
A sensation of moving. Had his body finally listened to his silent screams? No. The movement was too fast. Was that the sound of a horse's hooves hitting the ground? Had his Brothers found him? Were they taking him to Shade? Did they know he'd run? Did they see that he'd tried to turn back, rejoin the fight?
Blackness.
He managed to open his eyes this time. The ground rushed by beneath him. Hooves. So it was a horse he heard. He couldn't even feel his body draped over the animal's back. Probably a good thing. Who was guiding this beast? He managed a tiny turn of his throbbing head. A person's leg. What is that on it?
Blackness.
The face of a man pulling him down from the horse. Another sharp sensation in his shoulder made him take the first deep breath he'd managed in a while - a gasping inhale of pain.
Blackness.
Flames. A fire? A tent? Or was that clothes hanging on a line? Everything was so disjointed and jumbled. He couldn't make sense of it all. His head was throbbing. If it continued he was afraid he'd empty the contents of his stomach all over the man carrying him.
The sweet relief of blackness.
Thras rode as swiftly as he dared, trying to keep his horse at a pace that would jostle the injured man the least, but he also knew that with blood loss came the very real threat that this man could lose his life. He knew a little bit about healing practices, but of the two of them, his wife was a lot more knowledgeable. They couldn’t really afford a physician visit, and being on the road a lot meant there often wasn’t one around even if they could, so Lais had learned and Thras had attempted to learn. The two were fairly self sufficient, and for the most part if they needed to disappear from civilization, they could.
He finally made it back to their camp, shouting for his wife as he started getting close.
“Lais!” He called out, hoping she was around and he would get her attention to come attend to the man. He slipped off his horse, not noticing the pain in his leg this time because his mind was on the stranger who was still draped across his horse. He reached up to pull the man off, and as he did so he heard the man gasp in pain, which surprised Thrasius and had him nearly dropping the stranger. He regained his composure and kept him from falling, carrying him over to a pile of furs on the ground by the fire, the bed that he and Lais had slept in the night before. Thrasius liked to sleep under the stars when possible.
He set the man down on them gently, trying not to jostle him too much. He knew he could make his injuries worse if he was moved around a lot. He wasn't sure already if the man would make it, and the jostling around on the horse on the ride here probably didn't help.
“You’re okay, you’re safe now.” He assured the man, not knowing if he could even hear him, but attempting to comfort him either way.
“Lais!” he called again, looking around for his wife who may have stepped away from the camp for a few moments. He didn’t know what to do for this man entirely, but what he did know was he could boil some water so they could clean the blood away and assess his injuries.
So while he waited for his wife to show up, Thras began stoking the fire once more, then grabbed the metal pot they used for water boiling and cooking food, heading over to the buckets of water he had collected for them the day before. He filled the pot and brought it over to the fire, placing it among the flames so the heat would begin to boil it.
He then moved back over to the man, sitting in the dirt beside him, he began to take his coverings off, starting with the ones that were covering his head and face, assessing any visible injuries as best as he could. He was sure if this man was in any state of mind, he wouldn't be happy about a stranger undressing him, but as it was the guy was passed out cold and Thrasius knew that he and Lais would need to see the extent of his injuries if they had any hope of helping him.
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Thras rode as swiftly as he dared, trying to keep his horse at a pace that would jostle the injured man the least, but he also knew that with blood loss came the very real threat that this man could lose his life. He knew a little bit about healing practices, but of the two of them, his wife was a lot more knowledgeable. They couldn’t really afford a physician visit, and being on the road a lot meant there often wasn’t one around even if they could, so Lais had learned and Thras had attempted to learn. The two were fairly self sufficient, and for the most part if they needed to disappear from civilization, they could.
He finally made it back to their camp, shouting for his wife as he started getting close.
“Lais!” He called out, hoping she was around and he would get her attention to come attend to the man. He slipped off his horse, not noticing the pain in his leg this time because his mind was on the stranger who was still draped across his horse. He reached up to pull the man off, and as he did so he heard the man gasp in pain, which surprised Thrasius and had him nearly dropping the stranger. He regained his composure and kept him from falling, carrying him over to a pile of furs on the ground by the fire, the bed that he and Lais had slept in the night before. Thrasius liked to sleep under the stars when possible.
He set the man down on them gently, trying not to jostle him too much. He knew he could make his injuries worse if he was moved around a lot. He wasn't sure already if the man would make it, and the jostling around on the horse on the ride here probably didn't help.
“You’re okay, you’re safe now.” He assured the man, not knowing if he could even hear him, but attempting to comfort him either way.
“Lais!” he called again, looking around for his wife who may have stepped away from the camp for a few moments. He didn’t know what to do for this man entirely, but what he did know was he could boil some water so they could clean the blood away and assess his injuries.
So while he waited for his wife to show up, Thras began stoking the fire once more, then grabbed the metal pot they used for water boiling and cooking food, heading over to the buckets of water he had collected for them the day before. He filled the pot and brought it over to the fire, placing it among the flames so the heat would begin to boil it.
He then moved back over to the man, sitting in the dirt beside him, he began to take his coverings off, starting with the ones that were covering his head and face, assessing any visible injuries as best as he could. He was sure if this man was in any state of mind, he wouldn't be happy about a stranger undressing him, but as it was the guy was passed out cold and Thrasius knew that he and Lais would need to see the extent of his injuries if they had any hope of helping him.
Thras rode as swiftly as he dared, trying to keep his horse at a pace that would jostle the injured man the least, but he also knew that with blood loss came the very real threat that this man could lose his life. He knew a little bit about healing practices, but of the two of them, his wife was a lot more knowledgeable. They couldn’t really afford a physician visit, and being on the road a lot meant there often wasn’t one around even if they could, so Lais had learned and Thras had attempted to learn. The two were fairly self sufficient, and for the most part if they needed to disappear from civilization, they could.
He finally made it back to their camp, shouting for his wife as he started getting close.
“Lais!” He called out, hoping she was around and he would get her attention to come attend to the man. He slipped off his horse, not noticing the pain in his leg this time because his mind was on the stranger who was still draped across his horse. He reached up to pull the man off, and as he did so he heard the man gasp in pain, which surprised Thrasius and had him nearly dropping the stranger. He regained his composure and kept him from falling, carrying him over to a pile of furs on the ground by the fire, the bed that he and Lais had slept in the night before. Thrasius liked to sleep under the stars when possible.
He set the man down on them gently, trying not to jostle him too much. He knew he could make his injuries worse if he was moved around a lot. He wasn't sure already if the man would make it, and the jostling around on the horse on the ride here probably didn't help.
“You’re okay, you’re safe now.” He assured the man, not knowing if he could even hear him, but attempting to comfort him either way.
“Lais!” he called again, looking around for his wife who may have stepped away from the camp for a few moments. He didn’t know what to do for this man entirely, but what he did know was he could boil some water so they could clean the blood away and assess his injuries.
So while he waited for his wife to show up, Thras began stoking the fire once more, then grabbed the metal pot they used for water boiling and cooking food, heading over to the buckets of water he had collected for them the day before. He filled the pot and brought it over to the fire, placing it among the flames so the heat would begin to boil it.
He then moved back over to the man, sitting in the dirt beside him, he began to take his coverings off, starting with the ones that were covering his head and face, assessing any visible injuries as best as he could. He was sure if this man was in any state of mind, he wouldn't be happy about a stranger undressing him, but as it was the guy was passed out cold and Thrasius knew that he and Lais would need to see the extent of his injuries if they had any hope of helping him.
It was a quiet day, the sun shone its worshipping light that felt warm upon her features, it alone was enough to cause the upturn of her lips. She was not needed anywhere today and with Thras gone, the dark-haired woman considered preparing something special to eat. But they were lacking in spices. Fortunately, the woman, by intense perseverance and willingness alone, had learned from her mother at a young age, plants and their meaning. She had once thought it boring, but that never deterred her from taking in that information offered like sponge. She sweetly greeted her palomino mare whose coat looked all the more golden in the daylight. The woman’s sing-song voice uttered her greeting offering up the mare’s favoured treat that caused the creature's ears to perk upward in intense interest. Her muzzle quick to scoop up the piece of carrot Lais had saved her.
Lais did not saddle her, knowing she wouldn’t be too far and she trusted her wild-caught mare, a relationship built on trust and love. The bag that would carry her harvest, slung over her right shoulder before she tangled her fingers within her long white mane, hauling her lithe body lightly upon her back with ease.
Oh, this is what it meant to feel alive. It was when she could ride like this she felt free, her laughter carrying out on the fresh sweet breeze that swallowed it whole. How easy it was to lose track of time out here. It was glorious! Those rare quiet moments in the company of her mare, wishing only that Thras could be with her. It seemed to help ease the worry of her husband’s absence. Ever since they had been separated she felt the flutter of unease within her chest. She never voiced the worry out loud, but she was not immune to its heavy pull. She knew it would lessen with time, at least she hoped. The thought of losing him wrenched some deep part of her. She couldn’t bear the thought. He was just going to town.. He would be back she thought before returning to her task.
She plucked those plants that would be deemed useful, some would be good for drying and preserving for later use. She could hardly help herself as she carefully plucked an assortment of wildflowers that her equine companion seemed almost dead set on wanting to eat over the rich emerald foliage she could have munched on instead.
She let out a burst of mirthful laughter at the mare’s ingenuity in order to decapitate them! Lais would just have to outsmart her. The woman adoring that simple yet complex challenge. A near impish look flashed within her golden flecked eyes. It was a task easily done, this time. The mare’s convictions hardly matched her own determination to have those flowers, her flowers. There was still plenty of them for her to taste available. Little did the palomino know that she had woven some of the fresh purple flowers in her mane while Eos contently grazed upon the lush emerald green grass.
Lais a little late, as usual, returned, content with her to find Thras’ horse. He was home! She could not slow down the eager mare that wished to see her own companion once more! Who was Lais to stop her. She kicked her leg off leaping onto the ground softly with a widened smile and eagerness to see the face that belonged to the man she adored so much. Not even the sun itself could compare to the glow upon her features.
His horse was here, but where was he? Hmm. She secured Eos who nickered happily at her own mate. Lais decided to take to the way of stealth. Perhaps she could surprise him as she tiptoed through their camp.
So much for stealthy, she couldn’t hold down her excitement to see her husband. “Thras? You are not going to believe the...” What she had not expected was the fact that there was a man in their makeshift bed. A very motionless beat up man.
Thras was there, hovering over him. Her light near-silent footfalls drew her toward him. Her golden gaze never left the sight before the scent of blood tickled her nose. Thras was there, his usual carefree spirit, serious in that moment as he removed the fabric from the strange man’s body. “Oh gods…” She moved hastily to her husband's side to look down upon the unmoving figure. There was no time for a happy greeting while a man was dying in their bed! Was he already dead? No she could see him still breathing.. But he looked to be in bad shape. Concern flooded her eyes as she slipped off the satchel filled with those flowers, a few apples she had found along with her freshly picked herbs. None of that seemed to matter as she dropped the bag with little mind to the ground with a soft thud. Her concern was obvious as she lowered to her knees with a swiftness, her gaze drew to the deep bleeding cut on his bicep. So much blood stained his skin along with that dirt. The man appeared nothing short of broken. What happened to him?
“Oh Thrasius.. What have you found?” She almost whispered. The dismal worry evident within her usual serene voice. “He does not look good at all. What happened? Are you alright?” She turned to make sure Thras wasn’t harmed too, the worry overpowering. She would not be able to function if he was harmed too. She knew he would easily put himself into harm’s way to help a stranger. A sigh escaped her before her concerned gaze returned to the strange man resting within their bed, clicking her tongue in worry, examining the damage done.
They needed to move quickly. If those wounds were not cleaned with haste or thoroughly they could become infected. If he lived long enough. He looked like he lost a lot of blood.
“I am going to need a salve.. Can you focus on cleaning the wounds you can see while I make it? We will have to set anything broken last… if he can handle the shock. I don’t know. I have not seen anyone this bad… since my brother..” She went to work. “Talk to him… of happy things.. It might help.”Such wishful thinking. But she would be damned to Hades if she did not try to save this life.
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It was a quiet day, the sun shone its worshipping light that felt warm upon her features, it alone was enough to cause the upturn of her lips. She was not needed anywhere today and with Thras gone, the dark-haired woman considered preparing something special to eat. But they were lacking in spices. Fortunately, the woman, by intense perseverance and willingness alone, had learned from her mother at a young age, plants and their meaning. She had once thought it boring, but that never deterred her from taking in that information offered like sponge. She sweetly greeted her palomino mare whose coat looked all the more golden in the daylight. The woman’s sing-song voice uttered her greeting offering up the mare’s favoured treat that caused the creature's ears to perk upward in intense interest. Her muzzle quick to scoop up the piece of carrot Lais had saved her.
Lais did not saddle her, knowing she wouldn’t be too far and she trusted her wild-caught mare, a relationship built on trust and love. The bag that would carry her harvest, slung over her right shoulder before she tangled her fingers within her long white mane, hauling her lithe body lightly upon her back with ease.
Oh, this is what it meant to feel alive. It was when she could ride like this she felt free, her laughter carrying out on the fresh sweet breeze that swallowed it whole. How easy it was to lose track of time out here. It was glorious! Those rare quiet moments in the company of her mare, wishing only that Thras could be with her. It seemed to help ease the worry of her husband’s absence. Ever since they had been separated she felt the flutter of unease within her chest. She never voiced the worry out loud, but she was not immune to its heavy pull. She knew it would lessen with time, at least she hoped. The thought of losing him wrenched some deep part of her. She couldn’t bear the thought. He was just going to town.. He would be back she thought before returning to her task.
She plucked those plants that would be deemed useful, some would be good for drying and preserving for later use. She could hardly help herself as she carefully plucked an assortment of wildflowers that her equine companion seemed almost dead set on wanting to eat over the rich emerald foliage she could have munched on instead.
She let out a burst of mirthful laughter at the mare’s ingenuity in order to decapitate them! Lais would just have to outsmart her. The woman adoring that simple yet complex challenge. A near impish look flashed within her golden flecked eyes. It was a task easily done, this time. The mare’s convictions hardly matched her own determination to have those flowers, her flowers. There was still plenty of them for her to taste available. Little did the palomino know that she had woven some of the fresh purple flowers in her mane while Eos contently grazed upon the lush emerald green grass.
Lais a little late, as usual, returned, content with her to find Thras’ horse. He was home! She could not slow down the eager mare that wished to see her own companion once more! Who was Lais to stop her. She kicked her leg off leaping onto the ground softly with a widened smile and eagerness to see the face that belonged to the man she adored so much. Not even the sun itself could compare to the glow upon her features.
His horse was here, but where was he? Hmm. She secured Eos who nickered happily at her own mate. Lais decided to take to the way of stealth. Perhaps she could surprise him as she tiptoed through their camp.
So much for stealthy, she couldn’t hold down her excitement to see her husband. “Thras? You are not going to believe the...” What she had not expected was the fact that there was a man in their makeshift bed. A very motionless beat up man.
Thras was there, hovering over him. Her light near-silent footfalls drew her toward him. Her golden gaze never left the sight before the scent of blood tickled her nose. Thras was there, his usual carefree spirit, serious in that moment as he removed the fabric from the strange man’s body. “Oh gods…” She moved hastily to her husband's side to look down upon the unmoving figure. There was no time for a happy greeting while a man was dying in their bed! Was he already dead? No she could see him still breathing.. But he looked to be in bad shape. Concern flooded her eyes as she slipped off the satchel filled with those flowers, a few apples she had found along with her freshly picked herbs. None of that seemed to matter as she dropped the bag with little mind to the ground with a soft thud. Her concern was obvious as she lowered to her knees with a swiftness, her gaze drew to the deep bleeding cut on his bicep. So much blood stained his skin along with that dirt. The man appeared nothing short of broken. What happened to him?
“Oh Thrasius.. What have you found?” She almost whispered. The dismal worry evident within her usual serene voice. “He does not look good at all. What happened? Are you alright?” She turned to make sure Thras wasn’t harmed too, the worry overpowering. She would not be able to function if he was harmed too. She knew he would easily put himself into harm’s way to help a stranger. A sigh escaped her before her concerned gaze returned to the strange man resting within their bed, clicking her tongue in worry, examining the damage done.
They needed to move quickly. If those wounds were not cleaned with haste or thoroughly they could become infected. If he lived long enough. He looked like he lost a lot of blood.
“I am going to need a salve.. Can you focus on cleaning the wounds you can see while I make it? We will have to set anything broken last… if he can handle the shock. I don’t know. I have not seen anyone this bad… since my brother..” She went to work. “Talk to him… of happy things.. It might help.”Such wishful thinking. But she would be damned to Hades if she did not try to save this life.
It was a quiet day, the sun shone its worshipping light that felt warm upon her features, it alone was enough to cause the upturn of her lips. She was not needed anywhere today and with Thras gone, the dark-haired woman considered preparing something special to eat. But they were lacking in spices. Fortunately, the woman, by intense perseverance and willingness alone, had learned from her mother at a young age, plants and their meaning. She had once thought it boring, but that never deterred her from taking in that information offered like sponge. She sweetly greeted her palomino mare whose coat looked all the more golden in the daylight. The woman’s sing-song voice uttered her greeting offering up the mare’s favoured treat that caused the creature's ears to perk upward in intense interest. Her muzzle quick to scoop up the piece of carrot Lais had saved her.
Lais did not saddle her, knowing she wouldn’t be too far and she trusted her wild-caught mare, a relationship built on trust and love. The bag that would carry her harvest, slung over her right shoulder before she tangled her fingers within her long white mane, hauling her lithe body lightly upon her back with ease.
Oh, this is what it meant to feel alive. It was when she could ride like this she felt free, her laughter carrying out on the fresh sweet breeze that swallowed it whole. How easy it was to lose track of time out here. It was glorious! Those rare quiet moments in the company of her mare, wishing only that Thras could be with her. It seemed to help ease the worry of her husband’s absence. Ever since they had been separated she felt the flutter of unease within her chest. She never voiced the worry out loud, but she was not immune to its heavy pull. She knew it would lessen with time, at least she hoped. The thought of losing him wrenched some deep part of her. She couldn’t bear the thought. He was just going to town.. He would be back she thought before returning to her task.
She plucked those plants that would be deemed useful, some would be good for drying and preserving for later use. She could hardly help herself as she carefully plucked an assortment of wildflowers that her equine companion seemed almost dead set on wanting to eat over the rich emerald foliage she could have munched on instead.
She let out a burst of mirthful laughter at the mare’s ingenuity in order to decapitate them! Lais would just have to outsmart her. The woman adoring that simple yet complex challenge. A near impish look flashed within her golden flecked eyes. It was a task easily done, this time. The mare’s convictions hardly matched her own determination to have those flowers, her flowers. There was still plenty of them for her to taste available. Little did the palomino know that she had woven some of the fresh purple flowers in her mane while Eos contently grazed upon the lush emerald green grass.
Lais a little late, as usual, returned, content with her to find Thras’ horse. He was home! She could not slow down the eager mare that wished to see her own companion once more! Who was Lais to stop her. She kicked her leg off leaping onto the ground softly with a widened smile and eagerness to see the face that belonged to the man she adored so much. Not even the sun itself could compare to the glow upon her features.
His horse was here, but where was he? Hmm. She secured Eos who nickered happily at her own mate. Lais decided to take to the way of stealth. Perhaps she could surprise him as she tiptoed through their camp.
So much for stealthy, she couldn’t hold down her excitement to see her husband. “Thras? You are not going to believe the...” What she had not expected was the fact that there was a man in their makeshift bed. A very motionless beat up man.
Thras was there, hovering over him. Her light near-silent footfalls drew her toward him. Her golden gaze never left the sight before the scent of blood tickled her nose. Thras was there, his usual carefree spirit, serious in that moment as he removed the fabric from the strange man’s body. “Oh gods…” She moved hastily to her husband's side to look down upon the unmoving figure. There was no time for a happy greeting while a man was dying in their bed! Was he already dead? No she could see him still breathing.. But he looked to be in bad shape. Concern flooded her eyes as she slipped off the satchel filled with those flowers, a few apples she had found along with her freshly picked herbs. None of that seemed to matter as she dropped the bag with little mind to the ground with a soft thud. Her concern was obvious as she lowered to her knees with a swiftness, her gaze drew to the deep bleeding cut on his bicep. So much blood stained his skin along with that dirt. The man appeared nothing short of broken. What happened to him?
“Oh Thrasius.. What have you found?” She almost whispered. The dismal worry evident within her usual serene voice. “He does not look good at all. What happened? Are you alright?” She turned to make sure Thras wasn’t harmed too, the worry overpowering. She would not be able to function if he was harmed too. She knew he would easily put himself into harm’s way to help a stranger. A sigh escaped her before her concerned gaze returned to the strange man resting within their bed, clicking her tongue in worry, examining the damage done.
They needed to move quickly. If those wounds were not cleaned with haste or thoroughly they could become infected. If he lived long enough. He looked like he lost a lot of blood.
“I am going to need a salve.. Can you focus on cleaning the wounds you can see while I make it? We will have to set anything broken last… if he can handle the shock. I don’t know. I have not seen anyone this bad… since my brother..” She went to work. “Talk to him… of happy things.. It might help.”Such wishful thinking. But she would be damned to Hades if she did not try to save this life.
“I’m fine, it’s not my blood.” He assured his wife, knowing that she would immediately think that he too had been hurt. He took a second to lean over and press a kiss to her lips in an attempt to calm her and show he meant it when he said he was okay. He then went back to continuing to try and get some of the wrappings off the man so they could see the extent of his injuries and hopefully help him. Modesty was out the window when the man’s life might rely on proper treatment for any and all wounds he bore.
“I’m not sure what happened. I found him laying in the street like this. No one seems to have come by to help him, I think he was there for awhile based on how much blood he was laying in.” He said simply, looking at some of his wounds. Lais would know better how to handle them, and he was glad that she had returned in time from where ever it was that she had wandered off to, even if she probably panicked a bit when she came back to this scene.
“I can. My hands, your will.” He said, giving her a little smile, his way of telling her to just boss him around and he would do what ever was needed. He moved to grab a clean piece of cloth, dipping it in the water he had been boiling, he began to clean the dried blood from around his wounds, so they could see the extent of them clearer and determine which ones needed the most attention.
“You’re safe now. We’ll get you cleaned up, let you rest for a few days, and then you’ll be back on your feet, off to do what ever it is you do. Off back to your family if you have one.” He said, talking to the man though he doubted he could hear Thras. Lais seemed to think it would help to speak to him in a positive way, and so that’s what he did.
“You’re going to be just fine, you just need a bit of rest is all.” He said, though he wasn’t sure how true his words were. There was no point in telling this man that he was likely to die, especially if there was a chance he could actually hear Thras’ words in his unconscious state. Thras remembered when he was unconscious after his injuries, and he could have sworn he’d heard his family talking to him, though every thing was hazy and distant.
His boiling water was becoming rather dirty from the amount of blood he had been cleaning away. But the man was looking a little better without the dried blood staining him. The wounds could be cleaned and bandaged, and they would monitor him and nurse him as best as they could. Thras would at least feel good about the situation if they did everything they could, no matter what the outcome was. At least they could say that they did their absolute best to save this man’s life.
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“I’m fine, it’s not my blood.” He assured his wife, knowing that she would immediately think that he too had been hurt. He took a second to lean over and press a kiss to her lips in an attempt to calm her and show he meant it when he said he was okay. He then went back to continuing to try and get some of the wrappings off the man so they could see the extent of his injuries and hopefully help him. Modesty was out the window when the man’s life might rely on proper treatment for any and all wounds he bore.
“I’m not sure what happened. I found him laying in the street like this. No one seems to have come by to help him, I think he was there for awhile based on how much blood he was laying in.” He said simply, looking at some of his wounds. Lais would know better how to handle them, and he was glad that she had returned in time from where ever it was that she had wandered off to, even if she probably panicked a bit when she came back to this scene.
“I can. My hands, your will.” He said, giving her a little smile, his way of telling her to just boss him around and he would do what ever was needed. He moved to grab a clean piece of cloth, dipping it in the water he had been boiling, he began to clean the dried blood from around his wounds, so they could see the extent of them clearer and determine which ones needed the most attention.
“You’re safe now. We’ll get you cleaned up, let you rest for a few days, and then you’ll be back on your feet, off to do what ever it is you do. Off back to your family if you have one.” He said, talking to the man though he doubted he could hear Thras. Lais seemed to think it would help to speak to him in a positive way, and so that’s what he did.
“You’re going to be just fine, you just need a bit of rest is all.” He said, though he wasn’t sure how true his words were. There was no point in telling this man that he was likely to die, especially if there was a chance he could actually hear Thras’ words in his unconscious state. Thras remembered when he was unconscious after his injuries, and he could have sworn he’d heard his family talking to him, though every thing was hazy and distant.
His boiling water was becoming rather dirty from the amount of blood he had been cleaning away. But the man was looking a little better without the dried blood staining him. The wounds could be cleaned and bandaged, and they would monitor him and nurse him as best as they could. Thras would at least feel good about the situation if they did everything they could, no matter what the outcome was. At least they could say that they did their absolute best to save this man’s life.
“I’m fine, it’s not my blood.” He assured his wife, knowing that she would immediately think that he too had been hurt. He took a second to lean over and press a kiss to her lips in an attempt to calm her and show he meant it when he said he was okay. He then went back to continuing to try and get some of the wrappings off the man so they could see the extent of his injuries and hopefully help him. Modesty was out the window when the man’s life might rely on proper treatment for any and all wounds he bore.
“I’m not sure what happened. I found him laying in the street like this. No one seems to have come by to help him, I think he was there for awhile based on how much blood he was laying in.” He said simply, looking at some of his wounds. Lais would know better how to handle them, and he was glad that she had returned in time from where ever it was that she had wandered off to, even if she probably panicked a bit when she came back to this scene.
“I can. My hands, your will.” He said, giving her a little smile, his way of telling her to just boss him around and he would do what ever was needed. He moved to grab a clean piece of cloth, dipping it in the water he had been boiling, he began to clean the dried blood from around his wounds, so they could see the extent of them clearer and determine which ones needed the most attention.
“You’re safe now. We’ll get you cleaned up, let you rest for a few days, and then you’ll be back on your feet, off to do what ever it is you do. Off back to your family if you have one.” He said, talking to the man though he doubted he could hear Thras. Lais seemed to think it would help to speak to him in a positive way, and so that’s what he did.
“You’re going to be just fine, you just need a bit of rest is all.” He said, though he wasn’t sure how true his words were. There was no point in telling this man that he was likely to die, especially if there was a chance he could actually hear Thras’ words in his unconscious state. Thras remembered when he was unconscious after his injuries, and he could have sworn he’d heard his family talking to him, though every thing was hazy and distant.
His boiling water was becoming rather dirty from the amount of blood he had been cleaning away. But the man was looking a little better without the dried blood staining him. The wounds could be cleaned and bandaged, and they would monitor him and nurse him as best as they could. Thras would at least feel good about the situation if they did everything they could, no matter what the outcome was. At least they could say that they did their absolute best to save this man’s life.
He felt like he was drowning in darkness. A darkness too thick to see through, so thick it was like he could touch it. While he couldn't see, he could still feel pain. Though it was faint, just as fogged over as his mind. He didn't like this. This inability to use process information, to know what was going on around him, this lack of control. The trained assassin did not like this at all.
He could hear a voice. It seemed to be talking to him. He couldn't quite process the words. But the male voice was calming, was something to focus on as the darkness swirled around him and attempted to pull him deeper into unconsciousness. As he put all his focus on that voice, a fleeting image of a man swam through his mind's eye. He didn't recognize him and the image was gone just as quickly as it'd come. Only to be replaced by a vision of Shade, condemning him for his betrayal of the cause. "No..." the battered man muttered as he succumbed more fully to the darkness.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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He felt like he was drowning in darkness. A darkness too thick to see through, so thick it was like he could touch it. While he couldn't see, he could still feel pain. Though it was faint, just as fogged over as his mind. He didn't like this. This inability to use process information, to know what was going on around him, this lack of control. The trained assassin did not like this at all.
He could hear a voice. It seemed to be talking to him. He couldn't quite process the words. But the male voice was calming, was something to focus on as the darkness swirled around him and attempted to pull him deeper into unconsciousness. As he put all his focus on that voice, a fleeting image of a man swam through his mind's eye. He didn't recognize him and the image was gone just as quickly as it'd come. Only to be replaced by a vision of Shade, condemning him for his betrayal of the cause. "No..." the battered man muttered as he succumbed more fully to the darkness.
He felt like he was drowning in darkness. A darkness too thick to see through, so thick it was like he could touch it. While he couldn't see, he could still feel pain. Though it was faint, just as fogged over as his mind. He didn't like this. This inability to use process information, to know what was going on around him, this lack of control. The trained assassin did not like this at all.
He could hear a voice. It seemed to be talking to him. He couldn't quite process the words. But the male voice was calming, was something to focus on as the darkness swirled around him and attempted to pull him deeper into unconsciousness. As he put all his focus on that voice, a fleeting image of a man swam through his mind's eye. He didn't recognize him and the image was gone just as quickly as it'd come. Only to be replaced by a vision of Shade, condemning him for his betrayal of the cause. "No..." the battered man muttered as he succumbed more fully to the darkness.
The odds of the man living were unsure, he was very injured and the amount of blood that covered his body indicated that he had lost a lot, but also served to cover the extent of his wounds from view. Thras and Lais did what they could, cleaning his wounds and trying to stop the bleeding by applying strips of fabric tightly to the wounds. The couple worked tirelessly for a few hours, though the man that Thras had brought back wasn’t guaranteed to live.
At least the two of them would feel better knowing that they at least did what ever they could to try and save his life. The rest was up to the man’s will to fight, and the Gods will to keep him among the living. They couldn’t do much beyond that, except keep him warm and hope that he would at least make it through the night.
If he could fight through the night, he had a better chance of making it. The longer he could keep fighting, the more time his body and soul would have time to heal from his wounds. If he gave up, he was sure to die.
Thras helped Lais clean the blood off herself and then sent her off to bed, thanking her for the assistance and assuring her that he would take the first watch over their guest for the night. He would make sure that he kept the fire fed enough to keep the man warm, and ensure that no wild animals decided that he was an easy target and come out of the trees after him.
He sat himself down by the fire, tossing a piece of wood on it to keep the flames at the appropriate level, providing both heat and light for himself and the stranger that he had found bloodied and nearly dead.
“What have you done to earn such wounds?” He questioned quietly, though he knew that the other man was in no state to answer him. He wasn’t even sure that he could hear him speaking. He was more musing out loud, curious to know what the man’s story was.
But as curious as Thras was, he knew that if the man lived and woke, he would not push him for his story. Everyone deserved a chance in Thrasius’ eyes. There was almost nothing anyone could do that would cause him to condemn them immediately.
Whether this man was bad and had done something terrible to deserve these wounds was not for Thras to judge. He would leave such judgments to the Gods, and instead he would use his capabilities to help anyone he came across. That was his purpose, and that was part of the reason why the Gods had chosen to spare him from his fate and send Lais to save him.
At least that’s what he liked to believe, that he was there for a reason. It gave him a purpose to his life, a purpose beyond making Lais happy that was.
His night was spent with those thoughts running through his head as he watched over this strange man through the night.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The odds of the man living were unsure, he was very injured and the amount of blood that covered his body indicated that he had lost a lot, but also served to cover the extent of his wounds from view. Thras and Lais did what they could, cleaning his wounds and trying to stop the bleeding by applying strips of fabric tightly to the wounds. The couple worked tirelessly for a few hours, though the man that Thras had brought back wasn’t guaranteed to live.
At least the two of them would feel better knowing that they at least did what ever they could to try and save his life. The rest was up to the man’s will to fight, and the Gods will to keep him among the living. They couldn’t do much beyond that, except keep him warm and hope that he would at least make it through the night.
If he could fight through the night, he had a better chance of making it. The longer he could keep fighting, the more time his body and soul would have time to heal from his wounds. If he gave up, he was sure to die.
Thras helped Lais clean the blood off herself and then sent her off to bed, thanking her for the assistance and assuring her that he would take the first watch over their guest for the night. He would make sure that he kept the fire fed enough to keep the man warm, and ensure that no wild animals decided that he was an easy target and come out of the trees after him.
He sat himself down by the fire, tossing a piece of wood on it to keep the flames at the appropriate level, providing both heat and light for himself and the stranger that he had found bloodied and nearly dead.
“What have you done to earn such wounds?” He questioned quietly, though he knew that the other man was in no state to answer him. He wasn’t even sure that he could hear him speaking. He was more musing out loud, curious to know what the man’s story was.
But as curious as Thras was, he knew that if the man lived and woke, he would not push him for his story. Everyone deserved a chance in Thrasius’ eyes. There was almost nothing anyone could do that would cause him to condemn them immediately.
Whether this man was bad and had done something terrible to deserve these wounds was not for Thras to judge. He would leave such judgments to the Gods, and instead he would use his capabilities to help anyone he came across. That was his purpose, and that was part of the reason why the Gods had chosen to spare him from his fate and send Lais to save him.
At least that’s what he liked to believe, that he was there for a reason. It gave him a purpose to his life, a purpose beyond making Lais happy that was.
His night was spent with those thoughts running through his head as he watched over this strange man through the night.
The odds of the man living were unsure, he was very injured and the amount of blood that covered his body indicated that he had lost a lot, but also served to cover the extent of his wounds from view. Thras and Lais did what they could, cleaning his wounds and trying to stop the bleeding by applying strips of fabric tightly to the wounds. The couple worked tirelessly for a few hours, though the man that Thras had brought back wasn’t guaranteed to live.
At least the two of them would feel better knowing that they at least did what ever they could to try and save his life. The rest was up to the man’s will to fight, and the Gods will to keep him among the living. They couldn’t do much beyond that, except keep him warm and hope that he would at least make it through the night.
If he could fight through the night, he had a better chance of making it. The longer he could keep fighting, the more time his body and soul would have time to heal from his wounds. If he gave up, he was sure to die.
Thras helped Lais clean the blood off herself and then sent her off to bed, thanking her for the assistance and assuring her that he would take the first watch over their guest for the night. He would make sure that he kept the fire fed enough to keep the man warm, and ensure that no wild animals decided that he was an easy target and come out of the trees after him.
He sat himself down by the fire, tossing a piece of wood on it to keep the flames at the appropriate level, providing both heat and light for himself and the stranger that he had found bloodied and nearly dead.
“What have you done to earn such wounds?” He questioned quietly, though he knew that the other man was in no state to answer him. He wasn’t even sure that he could hear him speaking. He was more musing out loud, curious to know what the man’s story was.
But as curious as Thras was, he knew that if the man lived and woke, he would not push him for his story. Everyone deserved a chance in Thrasius’ eyes. There was almost nothing anyone could do that would cause him to condemn them immediately.
Whether this man was bad and had done something terrible to deserve these wounds was not for Thras to judge. He would leave such judgments to the Gods, and instead he would use his capabilities to help anyone he came across. That was his purpose, and that was part of the reason why the Gods had chosen to spare him from his fate and send Lais to save him.
At least that’s what he liked to believe, that he was there for a reason. It gave him a purpose to his life, a purpose beyond making Lais happy that was.
His night was spent with those thoughts running through his head as he watched over this strange man through the night.