---

Marque roused himself awake as he heard the howls in the distance. Never a heavy sleeper, he still struggled to come to his waking senses all the same. What could cause such a racket? He was unsure, though he'd heard stories. Stories which were never pleasant. The actor quickly gathered his belongings as his first thoughts turned to flight, but such discourse was unreasonable at this time. Though he was able bodied and could flee, the man who led them through these woods was not, and to run no doubt meant a death sentence for poor Lorenzo. Marque steeled his thoughts. Many a battle he had mocked on stage, but never truly had his life been in danger for a true skirmish. Today that would change, for he had no intention of leaving behind a lame man to die. Owning nothing worthy of battle, Marque took hold of a small log from the fire, one end still smoldering in ember. Hopefully it would do.

---

Lorenzo awoke to a worried Martyrdom licking his face, the young man pushing the dog away gently before looking into his eyes. "What seems to be troubling you at this hour?" the man asked his companion before hearing the faint sound of wolves in the distance. Looking around at the others around the dim fire, Lorenzo saw the Marque visibly shook up at the ruckus, and attempted to stand up to try and calm down the performer.

He then realized that he couldn't walk still, so it wasn't a dream. The man looked over to Col, who was in a defensive stance and prepared to defend the group of men, before the trainer simply chuckled. "Swords and fire are no use against these wolves, friends," Lorenzo started. "They hunt in packs. You'll take but one down before the rest will attack."

Pulling himself up onto the log he was leaning against, Lorenzo pulled out his bag and began to rummage through it as he watched the forest. "If you quell the mighty beasts, there won't be any need to defend from them." It was then Lorenzo pulled out Martyrdom's other bone (one that was left untouched by the dog), and prepared to throw it. Martyrdom looked at his master with excitement and prepared to leap for the bone, but his hopes were cut short at the snap of two fingers from Lorenzo. "No, boy. You still have yours." Lorenzo pointed towards the chewed-up bone to the side as Martyrdom trotted over to it and began gnawing on it.

"I suggest that you two lower your weapons and retrieve something these wolves will find favorable."

Col felt a shiver go down his spine that was part fear, part anticipation. A chance for revenge perhaps, but also a chance to die. His sword was in his hand without thinking and he let out a shout to wake the others, having discarded the notion that whatever was out there would pass them by. Marque was the first to react, quickly grabbing a burning log from the fire and holding it in front of himself defensively, to Col's approval. For a lord he was quick to pick up a weapon, crude though it may be. Lorenzo was awake as well. "I'm glad you find this amusing, perhaps you have no use of fear, not having much to live for, but others are not so fortunate." His words were biting, the cripple's lackadaisical approach a far contrast to what Col deemed the appropriate response to the situation. Perhaps in the arms of someone with no legs swords and fire were useless, but Col would much rather prefer them than not, and the fact that civilization existed served to prove his point had merit: otherwise man would have fallen to beast long ago. He doubted that the animals would be so easily pacified as Lorenzo seemed to think, but he was willing to give it a try regardless. Still holding his sword in one hand and keeping his buckler close by, Col rummaged through his pack with one hand, finding some strips of meat that made up his rations and hurling them into the night.

Bastian shot upright as the howl immediately woke him from his slumber. They were surrounded by wolves. He couldn't actually see any of them, but that's how they operated. They worked in packs, surrounded their prey, and tore them apart. Bastian's first immediate concern was his patient. He went immediately to Lorenzo's side and drew his knife, for it was the only real weapon he had. Meanwhile Lorenzo thought that simply bribing the wolves with a bone would work. While Col had no problem expressing how ridiculous of an idea that was, Bastian didn't say anything about it. Wolves weren't going to take a naked bone over ones covered in fresh meat. There was also no way in hell Bastian was going to sacrifice perfectly good food to these beasts. That wasn't how he was raised. He was raised to fight for what was his.

Everyone who was awake prepared themselves as best as they knew how. Sword, branch, knife and bone at the ready. Favian was still in a particularly deep slumber on account of not having a good rest for many weeks.

The foliage around them rustled all the more, closer every moment. Then, all sound and movement ceased at once. Seconds passed with the only noise being the heavy breathing of the party and sniffing. As soon as the sniffing ceased an enormous wolf leapt from the dense vegetation towards Col, ignoring the meat completely.
Its fangs bared down upon him. Luckily Col had his buckler in just the right spot so that the fiend's jaws clamped upon it rather then himself. With ferocious snarls the creature tossed its head back and forth, shield in mouth, jostling Col with its sheer strength. His arm felt like it would break under the erratic movements. The shield began to crack in the beast's jaws. Col could barely maintain his footing and nearly toppled over. Merlin tugged at his reigns in terror, trying to get away from the beast.

At the same time, another one circled around Marque and rushed Bastian. The beast bashed into him with tremendous force and knocked him into the air. Its momentum continued, ramming Lorenzo off his log and in the same direction. They sailed toward the dark brush landing a few yards from each other on the cushioned vegetation. Bastian's knife had blood on it while the creature had a small wound in its side. Martyrdom barked like a maniac as the beast turned and snarled at him.

A third beast made its way from the brush and slowly approached Marque while this all went on. It stared him down with eyes that seemed intelligent in some remarkable way. Its gaze went from the flaming object in his hand and Marque himself. It almost seemed hesitant to approach.

Favian finally awoke to the sounds of enormous wolves and the cries of his allies. This was the last thing he had wanted to happen. He wanted to get away from the danger not jump into it!

That was the only thought Col managed to process as a wolf that must have been at least as large as Col himself leapt out of the darkness. A reaction born out of hours of training ensured his shield was immediately brought to match the wolf's bite. The wolf didn't seem particularly bothered by this, wrenching Col's arm from side to side like he was a chew toy and nearly pulling Col off his feet. The motion was accompanied by a sickening crack from his shield, mirroring the way his own arm felt. Should the shield break, the rest of his body would doubtless be soon to follow. Thus, his only possible action was to attack. Timing his movements, just as the wolf pulled to the side, so did Col, attempting to use the wolf's own motion to assist in bringing its head towards his short-sword that snaked out towards its eye. Col would have liked to target the throat or attempt to strike its heart, but the monster was so large it was practically only possible from him to strike at its head. If managed to reach its brain it would surely die, if not then at least he could cripple it by taking out an eye.

---

The danger was immediate and credible. Marque had to admit to himself that these were larger and more ferocious than any wolves he had come to know! Could tale and story have been true? Word of the Wolfborn had been but legend as far as the wordsmith was previously concerned, but one tended to question legend once one could stare it in the eye. The legend stayed back, for a time, cautious of the actor's chosen armament. Amusing, in a way, the creature needn't have been so cautious had it known that the weapon's wielder had no great skill with it beyond flailing as a young babe with his rattle. Inexperienced though he was, Marque could not afford to let it show, and thus put forth a brave face. For it was his great talent to be that which he was not, and in this moment he needed to appear strong and great.

Another of the wolf creatures engaged the knight, but Marque daren't take attention from his own primal problem, lest his flesh become intimately acquainted with fang. Once a third creature made an entrance, Marque could no longer focus on his own, for it hath wrought chaos upon the lame and his physician. "Mister Lorenzo!" Marque gave up ground to take a position new, keeping his own beast in sight whilst moving to protect his fallen comrade, lest the beasts feed upon the weakest of the pack.

Even though he knew it was coming, it all happened so fast. An abnormally large wolf leapt from the bushes and took hold of the squire's shield. Bastian initially intended to assist, but then another wolf took a run at him. As the beast ran at him Bastian had just enough time to take a swing with his knife before the wolf made impacted. All the air was forced from his lungs as he hurtled through the air only to land in the bushes with Lorenzo following soon after. A third wolf appeared before the supposed son of Lord Bryce who grabbed a flaming stick from the fire to use a weapon which actually seemed to give the creature pause. He then rushed to Lorenzo's side to protect him from the wolves with his burning branch.

Bastian weighed his options. He could stay and help defend Lorenzo, his patient and responsibility. Or he could engage the wolves directly. In his current state, the noble and his stick were protecting him, but would that be enough? The wolf that had originally attacked him was currently distracted by the dog and was already wounded. This meant that only one wolf would be paying attention to Lorenzo and the noble with his stick. The flaming stick seemed sufficient enough to dissuade a single wolf at least for a time, and if he acted now while that wolf was distracted by Martyrdom, he perhaps stood a chance.

Trusting the flaming stick to do its job, Bastian rushed the wolf distracted by Martyrdom, his eyes filled with just as much intent to kill as the wolves themselves and his combat training took over. The plan was simple: bleed it out. He was going to attempt to dodge the gnashing teeth and then inflict as big of a gash as possible to the other side of the wolf that he hadn't injured the first time, utilizing all of the skills he had been forced to learn early in his life.

---

Well... the hunter misses their shot every once in a while.

Lorenzo laid on the ground as he watched the wolves assault the group, a panic beginning to form in his mind. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! He'd been hunting at least thirty times, and not once did he see these wolves be so... aggressive towards any travelers! It wasn't right, something was wrong with them. The cripple felt his breathing hasten as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, looking around his area to find anything - ANYTHING - he could use to assist his friends.

Then, he noticed some of his things had flown over to his location with him, specifically his bow and a few arrows. There weren't many, but Lorenzo could see three in the dimly lit area around him. If he was going to do anything, this would be what he had to do.

Lorenzo grabbed his bow and the arrows before he pulled himself to the nearby tree, nobody around it and a perfect area for him to lean against as he tried to get ready to help his friends. Carefully, Lorenzo notched an arrow in his bow as he took aim, targeting the wolf that was currently assaulting the brave knight. Taking a deep breath, Lorenzo unloaded the arrow as he aimed for the beast's leg, trying to cripple it so he could make the fight easier for Col.

Two arrows left.

Martyrdom, on the other hand, pounced onto the wolf assaulting Bastian and tried to sink his teeth into the flesh of the mighty beast. He was friends with the bard now, the hound wasn't going to leave the bard for dead! He was too nice and his scratches were good! Even if Martyrdom wasn't strong enough to hold off the wolf for long, he could try and at least halt the beast's advances on the bard so somebody else could assist the two in their plight.

Col Ward's years of training were being put to the test. Before, he had not even gotten one strike off on the wolves, when Sir Rolfe was overrun. This time would be different. As the beast violently thrashed its head with Col's shield, the aspiring knight used its own momentum against it. Col plunged his weapon at the wolf's head. His accuracy was effected by the erratic movements. Still, Col managed to violently tear through the left side of its face with cold steel. The creature released the cracked shield from its jaws, snarling in pain. It backed up from the warrior squire. Blood dripping from its face. Its left eye was slashed straight through. Col breathed heavily, his shield hardly of any more use then a block of wood at this point. His arm was sore, but not broken as far as he could tell. He clenched his weapon in hand tightly. It was apparent this beast still had a lot of fight left in it.

Marque moved with purpose to the aid of his allies. The whole time keeping an eye on the one staring him down with his flaming stick between them. The one confronted by Martyrdom eyed the burning stick warily as Marque passed. It began backing up from the flame. When Marque arrived at Lorenzo's side he watched as the crippled man struggled to claim his bow and arrows. Acting quickly, he helped the cripple retrieve them much faster. Time was of the essence.

Lorenzo attempted to gather his bow and three arrows. Being crippled slowed down his progress when Marque appeared and handed him his necessary tools. Taking them he turned to see a wolfborn snarl in pain from Col's strike. A few seconds passed as it shook its head back and forth; blood splattering to the ground. Lorenzo's arms shook in fear as he notched his arrow. The beast lunged at Col once more with a roar of anger. Injured though it be, it moved with an intensity and rage Lorenzo had never seen in an animal before. Right before it reached the tired squire Lorenzo released his arrow, aiming for the beast's leg. His years of practice helped to compensate for the shaking in his hands. The arrow pierced the hind leg of the creature. It stumbled at high speed, knocking Col aside as it tumbled directly into a tree. It crashed with a sickening crunch. Then it was silent.

Meanwhile Martyrdom ran after the retreating wolf and went to sink his teeth into it. Unfortunately, the beast was much too strong and fast for the amateur hunting hound. The wolfborn knocked the dog with a headbutt and sank its teeth into Martydom's back. He howled in pain. But before the wolf could put him down, Bastian rushed the beast's opposite side with a ferocity that matched the wolfborn itself. He plunged his knife into its side with great force. The wolf jerked away in pain, letting the dog loose from its jaws as blood gushed from its second wound.

Favian watched his allies fight for their lives as he attempted to get out of his sleeping bag. Suddenly, the wolf that was held at bay by Marque's flame no longer had any obstacle. It sniffed the air and turned to Favian with a glint in its eye as if it had found something significant. Running at full speed it grasped the sleeping bag Favian was in with its jaws. It began pulling the poor bard with great strength and speed away from the campsite. By the time anyone noticed it was too late. They could only hear the screams of their ally as he was dragged off into the night.

Col felt a visceral rush of satisfaction upon dealing a vengeful blow to the monstrous beast, leaving half of its face slashed up and bleeding. Even the mere seconds of combating the wolf had drained Col exceptionally so, however his training ensured he was still able to fight. Unfortunately the face wound didn't seem to bother it much, and after backing off a bit the creature lunged forward, now even more angered by the young squire. Col was prepared to leverage his sword against it like a lance, ensuring that if it bulldozed into him it would impale itself, even if it took Col down, he was determined to at least take it down. However mid-charge it suddenly stumbled thanks to the arrow that had appeared in its leg and its path changed, the side of its body bashing Col causing him to let out a grunt of pain. His shield was of no use against the massive frame that sent Col crashing to the dirt, though thankfully not into the fire.

Col shook himself and hurriedly scrambled to his feet to see the dog attempting to finish off the wolf. It was knocked back and it looked like it was the end for it, until Bastian reared behind the wolf and stabbed it, causing more blood to gush out of it. Still it didn't seem to be dead, and merely retreated slightly from its aggressors, releasing the smaller dog. Col turned at the sound of screams, a quick head count revealed that it could only be Favian. However by the time Col had determined this, the bard was too far gone for Col to even tell where he was, much less rescue him. Dam it. With a fresh source of anger Col grabbed a flaming stick with his shield hand and rushed over with a wordless yell to the bleeding wolf, determined to finish it off with brand and blade.

---

"These wolves... something has got the pack annoyed. This isn't natural!" Lorenzo remarked as Martyrdom ran back to Lorenzo's side, whimpering as he looked at the cripple with a pair of saddened eyes. It was clear the dog was in a lot of pain. Sighing a small bit, Lorenzo took his cloak off and wrapped it around Martyrdom's midsection, tying the cloak around the dog tightly. It would ruin the cloak, surely, but Martyrdom needed the bandaging pretty decently for a quick-fix.

Lorenzo notched another arrow as soon as he heard the screams of the bard, but he lowered the arrow when he realized that it was useless to fire it off blindly in the bushes. Col had run after the bard, anyway. A cripple losing one of his only defenses was a major loss in his head. For right now, he was occupied with what was causing these wolves to grow so aggressive. "It's been a few years, but I don't recall these wolves being so aggressive towards anyone unless they were cornered. How... peculiar."

---

Marque had kept himself preoccupied with fending away the beasts of legend from the weakest of their group, thankful for the gift of Prometheus, for flame seemed an excellent deterrent of ferocious monsters. After providing his aid, the woodsman and animal master could now participate in the battle, and did so with vigor. Arrows flew, causing greater damage to the beasts than Marque certainly ever imagined he was capable, yet still thankful to be of some use in maintaining a perimeter. Once the wolves had decreased to but a single lupine, the dramatic breathed in relief, allowing the better trained and armed Col to take up arms. At such a time Lorenzo found the situation appropriate to remark on observations Marque believed to be quite naive and ignorant.

"Have you taken leave of your senses, woodsman? You speak as though these beasts are ordinary wolves when in fact they are the stuff of legend! The Wolfborn, larger and more ferocious than any common forest wolf. I would've imagined a man of the wilderness such as yourself to be more astute in such matters. Certainly our bard companion can sing song of their malicious natu-" Marque's words ceased as he spun round, seeking the bard in question, but finding no one. Where his sleeping bag had once lay, and the tracks in the dirt, told him all the story and as such Marque came to a horrifying realization. He had miscounted the wolfborn. No seconds hesitation and Marque struck his knees against hard dirt.

"The fault is mine," he mumbled. "I kept one of the creatures at bay, but abandoned my vigil to aid Mister Lorenzo. It... It must have taken him. The poor Hermit." Lower further he sank, until the ground became intimate with his forehead. Unmoving, save for a quiver that could be taken as the cold, or the realization of one's own terror.

Upon landing a successful blow upon the wolfborn Bastian knew the upper hand was now his. Battered and bleeding, the beast had surely lost much of its strength, but he doubted it had lost its will to fight. It was in situations most dire where man and beast fight their hardest. As Bastian planned his next attacked, he noticed the squire rushing in after having defeated his own wolfborn. It wasn't surprising seeing as he wielded an actual weapon and was receiving assistance from Lorenzo. With Col's assistance, finishing off this monstrosity would be much easier. Yelling like he was, Col was presenting himself as a big and obvious incoming threat whether that was his intention or not. Such action would undoubtedly attract the wolfborn's attention, which would allow Bastian to make his move. As soon as the beast would turn its head, Bastain would plunge his knife into it's now-exposed neck and then back away. The squire should have no problem dispatching the creature afterwards.

Face towards the earth, Marque smelled the damp soil. It helped to reorient himself from the sturdiness it released. Even though the Hermit was gone and Marque's choices played a part in his fate, Marque took some heart from the damp earth.

Col retrieved a flaming stick and charged the beast that had assaulted Martydom. Bastian waited for the Wolfborn to turn towards Col to make his move. Sure enough, the yell and or the flaming stick caught its' attention. The creature turned with a snarl and backed up slowly. The wounds had taken their toll on the beast's agility. Bastian took the opening, lunging at it with his knife. The knife entered the Wolfborn's throat and was pierced. It gargled in pain as blood gushed everywhere, especially on Bastian. He backed off before it could retaliate.

Fortunately, it wouldnt get the chance. As it thrashed about in pain Col advanced and swung the flaming stick with force. The stick brushed against the beast's fur. Then it caught ablaze. The blood acted as fuel for the flame. Within seconds the Wolfborn was covered in fire. If it could have howled it would. The flaming ball of fire ran in the opposite direction from the party. It got about 15 yards before it collapsed; the flame completely extinguished and the body went unseen.

Suddenly, there was quiet. Stillness. A calm came upon them. The only sound that could be heard was the dull crackling of a dying campfire.
Lorenzo tended to Martydom's wounds, wrapping his cloak around him. He pondered the origin of these enormous and ferocious wolves. Merlin had buried his head down low and shook in fear. He was still tied to a nearby tree.

For those who went to inspect the Wolfborn that had crashed into the tree, they would find an indent, but no creature. It was gone.

Ha...

Ha...

Ha...

Col's heavy panting felt absurdly loud in the quiet that reigned after the monster fled and collapsed. Col swept the area around for any other enemies from where he stood. It seemed the other wolves had left. Col trudged to where the beast's body should have been, every sense feeling hyper-turned to unseen dangers lurking quietly in the darkness. In case the Wolfbourne wasn't finished. All he found was a crater where it had landed, the scorch marks around it, and a lot of ash. Hell they were lucky the stupid brute hadn't set the whole forest on fire, consider how apparently flammable it was. Was it even possible for something like that to turn wholly into ash so quickly, considering that it should have bones and what not? Whatever. He turned back and walked back to his pack, shrugging off what remained of his shield. It was spiderwebbed with cracks true, but it still had a handle on it. Even a half broken shield was better than no shield at all. If they made it to a town without further incident he could see about repairing it or getting a new one. His actions almost mechanical, Col wiped the blood off his blade and checked it for nicks before re-sheathing it. He'd cut mostly flesh so it hadn't taken much damage.

Everyone was still alive except the Hermit and they didn't look physically too bad. No broken bones or missing limbs. Even Merlin seemed as though he had been left alone and hadn't broken his tether. Small mercies. "Well..." Col's ragged voice, partly from coming off the adrenaline high and partially from exhaustion was still easy to hear in the mostly silent night. "If anyone else thinks they can sleep, we'll still need a watch. And we'll need to move first thing in the morning." Having said his piece he walked over to Merlin, careful approaching the horse while whispering softly to him and slowly stroking him to calm him down. After taking care of Merlin, and given nothing else happened, Col would collapse on the ground next to the fire and fall asleep. It had been a long day.

Sure enough, Bastian's faith in the squire was not misplaced as the final beast suffered a fiery demise. And just like that, it was over. The forest fell silent, the owls, frogs, and crickets still too frightened by the chaos to resume calling out into the darkness. Bastian checked the group. The all seemed to be fine, except for the hermit. The hermit was gone. Regrettable as his demise was, Bastian's top priority was his patient, who he had succeeded in keeping safe with the help of the supposed noble.

As for himself, Bastian was unharmed like the rest of the party. He was completely unfazed by the blood that now coated him and dripped from his knife as well as the hand that held it. He and the squire were, by far, the two most combat capable members of the group. Surprisingly, no one seemed too put off that the man who was trained in healing was also well-versed in doing the exact opposite. Bastian then heard Lorenzo mention he didn't remember the wolves in the forest being so aggressive.

"Those weren't wolves," Bastian said. "Their appearance may be similar, but those beasts.... They are not natural."

Bastian then retrieved his medical bag and knelt beside Martyrdom. While the supplies it contained were normal for people, Bastian was a dog person. More than that, he doubted he would have been as successful against those beasts had it not been for the young hound's assistance. He owed him this much. He removed Lorenzo's cloak from the canine and used it to wipe the wolfborn blood off of his hands and knife. It was probably rude to do so without asking, but the cloak was already ruined by that point. The physician then set to work cleaning Martyrdom's wounds and dressing them with proper bandages.

"I will take first watch. I must keep an eye on our furry friend to make sure he remains in stable condition."

As he sat beside the dog gently petting him to keep him calm and comfortable, Bastian couldn't help but wonder about the beasts that had attacked them. They were far larger than any wolf, and definitely far more ferocious. The thing that bothered him the most was that they left the horse untouched. Surely a horse would provide a far more substantial meal than any man. Unless those creatures did not hunt simply for food. Perhaps they did it for fun. It was a chilling thought that a creature would kill for pleasure alone.

---

Lorenzo tried to stand in annoyance, ultimately failing at the first try and giving it another shot, failing yet again before caving in and speaking. "Excuse me, Marque, but it has been bloody years since I've been in these woods. Years of raising dogs for your father, then I couldn't even come to these woods after my legs and Loyal had been taken by the incident. Excuse my ignorance." Lorenzo was visibly annoyed at the Marque, but he took a deep breath before he finally sighed. "... it doesn't matter anyway. Wolves, Wolfborn, whatever they are, they've taken the Bard. We can only hope he ascends safely."

Lorenzo shuffled towards his companion and simply placed a hand on his head as Bastian tended to his wounds. The knight brought up how the group needed someone to take watch. Bastian offered to take the first watch, and Lorenzo couldn't really say anything otherwise. He was surprised at the doctors fighting ability, but that wasn't why he let the doctor stay up. It was because Martyrdom was in need of a healthy recovery. Still, Lorenzo did have something to add to the situation. "I shall stay up with the great doctor. I don't care to sleep in this forest any more, and Martyrdom is in need of my presence."

Lorenzo turned to face the doctor directly, patting the whimpering Martyrdom on the head before speaking directly to the doctor. "I thank you, doctor, for tending to my dog's wounds better than I could have."

---

Words passed by Marque like a gentle breeze, and he paid as much mind to them. Whether it be the irritable gruff of defense by Lorenzo, the pragmatic decree of the good squire, or helpful volunteering taken by the good doctor, such words failed to register beyond Marque's ears, for all focus had been placed on what horrors certainly befell their good Hermit companion. To be slain in battle was one matter, a matter which would have its own traumas, but to know that the only reason the Hermit now had been drawn to his demise solely because Marque had changed positions... This was a matter most horrible in his heart of hearts. Nary a soul should have been harmed in his quest to investigate these woods for his mentor. Instead demonic hellhounds preyed upon them, because Marque had convinced each of their assistance. Foolish. And now the responsibility was his to bare.

"Did you say something?" Marque inquired, perking up for the first time, experiencing the scent of fresh air rather than fresh soil. His eyes took the scene in, and he drew the most apparent conclusion. The doctor remained at watch as others rested. Rising slowly to his feet, the usual dance and pomp had disintegrated from Marque's gait as he shuffled to Bastian, and took nearby seating. Rest was a luxury, afforded to those who could protect them. Not something he felt deserving of at this time. "I pray you find my company agreeable. My eyes can focus on our other flank, and ease some of the burden."

"I doubt I would have had nearly as much help without his assistance," Bastain replied to Lorenzo. "It's the least I can do."

When Lorenzo volunteered to stay up with him, Bastian said nothing. While sleep was important, he knew the hunter wouldn't get any with his companion in such poor condition. Besides, having an archer at the ready in case they were attacked again would be handy. Marque, on the other hand, was a different story. He was clearly distraught, and it wasn't hard to figure out why. Bastian had seen him reposition himself to defend Lorenzo instead of the bard. There was no doubt in his mind that he was no blaming himself for the musician's demise. With Lorenzo keeping an eye on his hound, Bastian decided to give Marque whatever comfort he could.

After Marque went and took a seat, Bastian excused himself to Lorenzo and went to sit down by Marque's side.

"It's not your fault," he told him. "Combat is stressful. Hard decisions need to be made in an instant. You chose to defend the most vulnerable member of our party, which allowed me to assist in neutralizing the threat. While his loss is tragic, you made the right choice. You can't blame yourself for him getting trapped in his sleeping bag. You didn't know it would happen. Fate is a cruel mistress. You can't blame yourself for her fickle nature."