IC: Remulon Farnswell
Location: Fields of Mennor, Eastern Border, Scene of Orcish Raid
Distantly his mind registered that there were shouts coming from the unidentified form, but he could scarcely comprehend their purpose. They were loud, however, the powerful commands seemed to rattle back and forth between his ears, causing his head to throb. He groaned pitifully, the weapon tumbling uselessly from his skeletal fingers as the man gripped the sides of his skull. The pounding of the massive beasts hooves too, were lost on what remained of his conscious mind, his body too weary to react to the anxious bone crushing steps of the steed.
As the silence returned, like a suffocating blanket, he slowly turned his eyes upward again. Finding the slender form of a woman steadying an arrow in his direction. Fire red curls had tumbled freely across her shoulders, a single lock marring her vision. Though based on the look in her eyes and the unwavering sway of the bow, it left little doubt that if let loose the projectile would find its mark. For a moment he wondered if it had been her hair he had seen coming from the fog, not a fire at all. But such thoughts were pushed aside as her words sliced the stillness of the morning air.
"Speak if you are able." Even rife with bold determination, the words were like honey, a woman's voice even one so angered, was unlike anything he had heard in recent weeks.
His cracked and bloodied lips parted to speak, though he was at a loss for words, and he attempted to utter his name...
The sound that came out was like old gears grinding together, and was accompanied by a ragged cough which left small speckles of blood behind on the ground beneath him. He could feel the thick warm liquid form beneath his tongue, filling his mouth with the taste of copper, the lack of water and food having turned his mouth and throat into a swollen wreck.
"You." The woman snapped, jabbing him in his emaciated ribs with the end of her boot as she demanded his allegiance. Pain from the area sent dark spots dancing across his vision, the ribs having been broken from a fall he had suffered several days ago. Rotten, frostbitten fingers wrapped around his neck, a soft gurgle his only reply as he felt his consciousness waning. The shock of seeing another human being, the pain of his injuries and the weariness of his journey finally surmounting his ability to drive onward.
With another nearly inaudible moan he drifted out of body, the irritated curses of the woman directed at her mount swirling in the air around him.