The Man's hand stretched out in what seemed to him like a flash as he stumbled backwards while the arrows found their mark within his chest and side. His lungs burned as the air had been knocked from them while he began to slip from the ledge and into the darkness, trying to call out to the one whom he had only begun to call Boss and only able to muster a hoarse cough from his chest. "Faro Vae."
It seemed like an eternity since the clattering of blades and shields stopped, being engulfed in what could only be described as a tangible darkness. The Young Warrior had landed in a heap upon a tent of some of the formerly deceased goblins. A cough finally broke the silence and spattered blood across his face, raising a hand to remove the caked dirt and blood from his eyes so he could open them only to see the broken shafts of the arrows protruding from his wounds. Ripping a handful of cloth from his tattered clothing, he began to place the wad of tunic into his mouth until he could clench down and could not cough.
A grunt rumbled in his throat for a second followed by a snap as the first shaft broke in his hand. Tears began to well in his eyes as he craned his neck slightly to the side to examine the wound upon his side that seemed to have snapped the arrow off at the would but not before driving it deeper into his side. Iorannir heaved himself to the side, reaching up to pluck the wad of cloth from his mouth as he began to force himself up onto his knees and finally, his weary feet. Looking around for several moments with confusion, before sighing and shuffling his feet in the direction he seemed to think they came from.
Seconds seemed like hours in the enormous cavern that most knew as Goblin Town. He knew he would be close once he could feel the bitter cold of the Misty Mountains, almost reminding him of his home. Seeing the corpses of many that his comrades had slain in their attempt to rescue their friend and what he perceived to be their leader amongst the band of traders and merchants. Valiant men and women who chose to venture to bring her back, not minding the costs they may make upon the way.
As he stood infront of the mouth of the cave, blade in hand and a wrapping of part of the tent he fell on in the other. He stared out among the hoarfrost and gripped the blade a little tighter in his bloodied fist. He could only pray that the brave people he came here with, had acomplished their task and brought their friend home. He closed his eyes and inhaled softly. His lungs burning and body screaming from the broken bones and wounds that almost felt endless, before whispering to himself while he shuffled out into the cold.
"Diheno nin, Hir. Te teliannen.."
