_Roan _

Roan eyelids were heavy and threatened to close while he forced them to stay open and lingered onto the man that stepped forward. Despite the exhaustion washing over him, the his weary mind took in the details slowly and carefully. The first thing he noted was the fact the stranger literally towered over him. His built and figure seemed thickly built enough to haul trees with only minor trouble, covered in head to toe with black armor. The man’s face was hidden completely under his helmet making Roan wonder if he was roasting from the spring like weather but his mind didn’t bother to care.
 
The pain filled Roan’s mind, feeling weakness pour into his limbs and the only thing which kept him a man. It wasn’t as if his relic wasn’t trying. Even in his terrible shape, from the moment the blood reached his eyes Roan could feel the magic tingle and try to spread only to fail in holding its sway over him. There were questions of why. Easily answered with the obivious evidence staring him back into the face, ranging from scared the change might kill him to the fact he had little energy to move at all.  He knew it didn’t matter now.  
 
 "If I had wished to slay you I would have attempted so already." The strange man said calmly, seemingly unworried or disturbed by Roan’s last transformation. A fact the Kalesian ex-soldier was certain had been witnessed earlier. "We best get you to an apothecary."
 
 Roan stared harder at the man, though his eyesight was starting to fail, while he put his weapon away. It wasn’t hard to noting the lack of fear or cautious nature within the stranger’s reaction which made him edgy. Anyone, normal that is, would’ve taken one look then high tailed it away from the monster, not to it. For several moments, Roan was quiet. His mind mentally debated or judging for himself if he should risk using the man’s help.
However, he was in little position to deny help when he couldn’t walk on his own.

“You’ve been the first I’ve met that hasn’t. “ Roan said his tone held tight and forced himself to move, feeling the pain raging in his body. The knife had been and still was rather close to the spine. When the agony settled within his mind, Roan realized this  wound mended like the others had. Most were mended within a small amount of time unless they were of a very grim condition, then it look only a bit longer while in his more beastly mode. However it seemed there wasn’t that usual tingle or mending at work now. This fact worried him much more than he wanted to admit to himself. He had great difficulty when he finally pushed himself to his elbow, tilting his body forward and weakly motions for help. His other held out and gestured for help from the man. “I’ll have to lean on you… heavily.”

When Markul hoisted Roan up, gently or not, he fought back a scream when the wound flared at the movement. His muslces tensed and instantly his legs nearly collapsed from under him. The balance he had fairly gain was quickly lost when his eyesight finally completely failed. His lost any pitiful grasp he had, weakened by the energy spent and blood still seeping from his wound, causing him to crumbled, passing out completely forcing Markul to haul him out. 

Sadly it would’ve seem Roan’s actions lately had drawn his unwanted attention right back to him. 

A man, his tunic crumbled and stained from head to toe, emerged from the shadows where Roan had came. His one eye had been slashed vertically until it was nothing more than a useless thing leaving him blind on one side. In one hand he cleaned his nails, idly picking out the dirt with the tip, as he raised his head to the pair. He paused, raising his hand to push away the greasy hair and studied the much larger man in consideration. Namely if he wanted to risk the hassle for whatever gold was Roan’s bounty. The hunter’s lean figure eased slightly when he spotted another man who’s barrel middle bounced with each walk before halting at the first’s shoulder. 

“‘ey, yorse a big lad, ain’t ye?” Stated the thinner one, his eye lingering on Markul for a moment then shifted down to where he spotted his prey. In his head he measured the distance, judging a good few feet between the three, while his tongue started to concocted a lie. “If ye be kind ‘nuff and set our friend down there, we’ll let youse be on ye way...sir.” 

The addressing title was said with a tone crossed between mockery and a snide joke among the pair. Mainly as the fatter one snickered, his red hair collected about his forehead, while his hand muffled the snorting end it ended in.