Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20151024172147/@comment-5543592-20151026220454

Ragnar waved his hand in a dismissal good-bye, and then turned back to his drink.

Scire was sound asleep, cozy, halfway beneath a quilt, tattoos exposed freely to the night air.

And then he was falling.

Not him- someone else. Someone else's falling was happening to him.

But he was falling. At least in sensation.

And then he felt the exploding pain on impact.

He woke up with a jarring start, a scream on his lips and choked gasp in his throat. His eyes scanned the dark, searching for an attack nearby, but nothing. All the auras near by were mellow blues. Not even a telltale purple of any kind.

But the pain was still there, along with others. He'd been in a fight. Some one had been in a fight. Who? Libi? Vale? Talon?

Too far away. Impossible.

Who? He had an inkling, an obvious, and serious. one, but he couldn't figure out. He had to get to the source of whatever it was.

He cursed, wondering what it meant and went about grabbing his armor, strapping it on. The thickened cloth was still torn in places from Vordel's onslaught, but the chitin was still good. He slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder, strapped on his dagger, and headed out of the inn fast.