|
Post by sethgreyjoy on Sept 20, 2007 0:38:07 GMT -5
Fryse watches the scene play out. He looks at himself for the first time, to check to see if he is injured. Unsurprisingly he is not. "Truly a spectre." He says. He nears the group closer, watching Selwyn take his last breaths.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 20, 2007 0:39:06 GMT -5
Aranya stayed in her kneeling position, still as stone, staring down into Selwyn's face. Her hand gripped his hard. She did not move, and did not speak.
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Sept 20, 2007 0:40:45 GMT -5
"There is nothing that can be done," Horas says as gently as he can manage. "Only milk of the poppy, to dull the pain of his passing..."
|
|
|
Post by sethgreyjoy on Sept 20, 2007 0:40:46 GMT -5
"We need to git moving." Fryse said, eyeing the dead laying all around. "Bury our dead and git back teh Kin's Landin'." He pulled his hood up, hiding his lank, pale yellow hair.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 20, 2007 0:41:45 GMT -5
The black courser touched Selwyn's face with his nose, gently, and snuffed onto his cheek.
|
|
|
Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Sept 20, 2007 0:41:56 GMT -5
"We have no milk of the poppy," Rhodri says. "But he must not linger in pain..."
Rhodri lifts his sword in his one hand, and brings it down to cut his brother's throat, tears still running down his cheeks.
|
|
|
Post by sethgreyjoy on Sept 20, 2007 0:44:52 GMT -5
Fryse eyed Lance Sands, laying dead, his golden mask punctured through the face of it, and walked towards him. He crouched down and plucked the mask from the man's face, looking at the real visage beneath. Then he tucked the mask into his cloak, and turned back to Marq and Geral.
"Git Gasher and Tunak down the trail, we will bury them in as soft o' earth we can find."
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Sept 20, 2007 0:46:13 GMT -5
Horas returns to where the baby was set down and picks it up awkwardly. No one else seems to even remember it. Horas watches as Aranya walks down the slope, dead on her feet, but he does not follow.
Horas crosses his legs and sits down among the dead, staring out into the beauty of the Vale below.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 20, 2007 0:46:26 GMT -5
When she saw the blood leak out of the gash in his throat, Aranya's mouth trembled, and she finally began to cry. She picked up his remains, and carried him down the trail.
|
|
|
Post by The Smith on Sept 20, 2007 0:46:42 GMT -5
The man behind the mask has a thick auburn beard, and is balding.
|
|
|
Post by sethgreyjoy on Sept 20, 2007 0:47:49 GMT -5
"Who's babe?" A hoarse voice questions. It obviously belongs to the albino Fryse. He stands next to the Blackwood man after viewing the real Lance Sands.
|
|
|
Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Sept 20, 2007 0:48:11 GMT -5
Rhodri looks across at the man he thought was Sands. "That's not him." He felt like he was being punched in the gut.
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Sept 20, 2007 0:51:44 GMT -5
"I do not know, Master Fryse," Horas says. His voice seems distant, detached.
"Are you sure, Lord Rhodri?" Horas asks without turning around.
|
|
|
Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Sept 20, 2007 0:52:51 GMT -5
"Lance Sands was blonde, with a scar that ran the length of his face. But we have stopped the threat to the Vale."
"Is there anything else here?"
|
|
|
Post by sethgreyjoy on Sept 20, 2007 0:54:59 GMT -5
"The spoils. Whatever weapons or coin or valuables found on them savages or the magicians."
Fryse laughs. "I'm gunna kill Master Mortimer."
|
|