Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-29559990-20150109200212/@comment-12599067-20150118053049

Veranwen was on her hands and knees, coughing to try and clear the smoke from her lungs. Her head was swimming, her vision obscured by tears, and she felt weak from breathing in so much smoke. The feeling of being choked by smoke and surrounded by fire brought back old, bad memories that floated at the back of her mind, and some of them were enough to mix a few genuine tears in with those brought from the smoke.

Makoru was doing what he could, which wasn't much. He took head counts and moved everyone as far as possible from the flames. He would've tried to say something reassuring to Cidarus, but he could think of nothing. He knew loss well, well enough to know that there were no words to console the empty feeling it left behind.

Talnarach wasn't going to let the Nord get away that easily. He firmly planted a boot on the man's heel, then reached down and grabbed the back of his neck with iron grip. He lifted him up with ease, then turned and hurled him onto the dock. The Reachman threw his spear aside and advanced on the Nord, his emotions hidden behind the skull mask despite the fact that the bandit could practically feel the cold anger radiating off the man like the heat radiating off the fire.