Truth in a Dark Place RPG

[maikafanawen]

***KEEPING IN MIND WREN DOES NOT HAVE A PINK, YELLOW, AND BLUE CIRCUS TENT***

Wren didn’t bother to set up her tent, and instead lay back on the ground, trying to rest a bit. She would have tried to make conversation with some one, but since Maikafanawen was gone for three blinkin’ days and Wren spent her entire time setting up a circus tent she missed out on that opportunity ( [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] ). No, instead she thought about what could be worse. The entire company thought she was a fool out for a joy ride. The noblewoman shrugged, At least they won’t expect much of me. I can mind my own and just have a free guide the entire time. That way, heh, I’m the major benefactor! She chuckled slightly, then sighed. It was a very still night and most had occupied themselves by reflecting on depressing times in their lives when they’re parents were killed by orcs. A good few of them had anyways. Wren hadn’t ever seen one, but had seen pictures, and knew them to be nasty looking creatures. She sometime hoped to meet one. They mustn’t be all bad. A little love and understanding, who knows. They may be brilliant! She greatly doubted the possibility, but it was something to consider.

She didn’t grow sleepy at all, but she couldn’t really do anything except just lay there because before the fight, everyone thought she was busying herself by setting up a ridiculous tent. She sighed and waited for Aerien to return and deliver the news of the Wild Men, which reminded Wren that her sword was next to the bag of supplies she and Turthol had bought. Actually, she corrected herself, she had bought. The noblewoman had just reached the pile of supplies when Aerien came running out of the forest, full of movement and expressions like an actor in a play.

All battle posts up until this one

Wren watched the fight from her calm stance by a tree. Most of the company had formed a wall, blockading the Wild Men from getting past them, for who knows why. She yawned, wondering how many more would come. The elf had said that there were six, but obviously, she had guess wrong and was on the contrary about two dozen off. Wren smiled to herself as a wild man caught sight of her. She dipped her head forward as though she was tired and slowly falling asleep. The wild man laughed and charged out her. Quick as a flash, Wren’s sword was out and she severed the man cleanly in two pieces, steam rising from his entrails.

“Ah gross!” she said, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and holding it up to her nose. She grimaced at the sight of blood flecked on her boots. She stepped back from the body and prepared to watch the rest of the fight when Rangar turned around and saw her standing there, grossing out over the corpse.

“Come on Wren!” he said angrily, “don’t just stand there! Help us!” Me? mouthed Wren, pointing to herself. At Rangar’s exasperated face, she nodded and held up a hand, adjusting her belt and pushing away curls from her face. Rangar snarled with frustration and resumed his fight. Rolling her eyes, Wren moved to the end of the line of the company and fought, though not too hard. Hey, she thought, watching the strenuous struggle for life between the group and the cannibals?, there are two elves, a feminist, a few rangers, some fool scholar, some nice people from Bree, they don’t need so much help from a good-for-nothing-noblewoman. Raising her blade to meet the second wild man, she parried his first slash and ran him through quickly. Against Wren’s sword there was no threat. It was a good thing too, otherwise, she would be dead. Judging between the annoyance and distrust of her own companions, and the psychotic anger of the wild men, Wren would have had no chance with out her sword and cleverness, she decided. After all, she was no fool. The sooner they got to Gondor the better. If they didn’t want her here, she didn’t want to be here.

She discretely took out four more wild men, stepping further away from each body. The stench was terrible. Her handkerchief in her left hand was held up to her face, trying to block out the nasty stench. Her right arm was easily fending off foes. Finally, the wild men were gone and the elves and rangers were taking attendance. Wren wiped her sword off quickly and sheathed it. Then she sat down against a tree, trying vainly to wipe blood off of her clothes and boots.