09-06-2011, 07:27 AM
Rurik gave a small grunt of acknowledgement at what the man had said and turned back forward. "I figured as much." He muttered, and continued walking forward, then said louder, "If we ever met again, I hope things turn out differently, I'm actually not a bad guy once you get to know me." He grinned to himself, despite the pain in his shoulder and back, and headed out of the pack lands. He was already making plans to revisit here one day, when he was better. Whether or not that visit would end up like this one, or end on slightly happier terms, he didn't know and presently, didn't care.
He slowly made his way back to his pack and sword, which were laying on the riverbank where he left them. With some awkward sliding and hopping motions, trying to avoid more pain than necessary, he made his way down to his back. Both his shirt and cloak had been ruined, both were bloody and torn. He took them off and tossed them aside then sat down to go threw his pack and see if he had a change. He had a shirt, but no cloak, which made him frown. That meant he would have to find someone willing to repair it for him, which wasn't something he was looking forward to, it was bad enough he needed someone to clean his wounds. He slipped on his new shirt, with many grunts and groans, and closed his pack, eyeing the now ruined cloak and shirt.
Seeing as he no longer had a use for wearing the shirt, he might as well make use of it's ruined remains. He picked it up and torn it into 4 fairly even strips. With that done, he slipped his shirt off again and tied out of the strips around his shoulder in a make-shift bandage. It wasn't perfect, but it stopped the bleeding and it was all he had at the time. He put his shirt back on and put the other 3 bandages into his pack for later. He then slipped on his cloak, ignoring the holes and blood, and picked up his pack and climbed up the bank. Without last look into the pack lands, he turned and headed out to try and find a healer or die in the wilderness, which ever came first.
He slowly made his way back to his pack and sword, which were laying on the riverbank where he left them. With some awkward sliding and hopping motions, trying to avoid more pain than necessary, he made his way down to his back. Both his shirt and cloak had been ruined, both were bloody and torn. He took them off and tossed them aside then sat down to go threw his pack and see if he had a change. He had a shirt, but no cloak, which made him frown. That meant he would have to find someone willing to repair it for him, which wasn't something he was looking forward to, it was bad enough he needed someone to clean his wounds. He slipped on his new shirt, with many grunts and groans, and closed his pack, eyeing the now ruined cloak and shirt.
Seeing as he no longer had a use for wearing the shirt, he might as well make use of it's ruined remains. He picked it up and torn it into 4 fairly even strips. With that done, he slipped his shirt off again and tied out of the strips around his shoulder in a make-shift bandage. It wasn't perfect, but it stopped the bleeding and it was all he had at the time. He put his shirt back on and put the other 3 bandages into his pack for later. He then slipped on his cloak, ignoring the holes and blood, and picked up his pack and climbed up the bank. Without last look into the pack lands, he turned and headed out to try and find a healer or die in the wilderness, which ever came first.