Re: Docks: Warehouse 4-6
"Well if I'm not a one-legged man in a kissin' contest, I done got ahead of myself, ain't I?"
Returning to the others, Gostric returns his mace to it's belt, then examines Honeyfinder, calling upon the Power of Three to hopefully staunch the would, and aid his comrade.
Once his effort is complete, he sags to the ground, takes a deep, deep breath, exhausted.
"Sadly, that is all of the holy favor a worthless wretch like me deserves today. A brief respite for food and wine, and I shall be serviceable in combat, but not worth much more, if not a little less."
That said, he digs thru his pack for an over sized turkey leg, some cranberry sauce, and a skin of wine.
"Mwannabayyte?" he inquires of Honeyfinder?
This message was last edited by the player at 06:52, Wed 14 Sept 2011.