I think for a bit- is it wise to give weapons to someone that I don't really know?- then again, this Tyrael guy hadn't run at me screaming bloody murder yet... and besides, the guy's either really lazy or at least partially blind to have me looking for his weapons for him and I could beat, or at least run away from, any blind guy. I nod, then remember that, yeah, I'm talking to a blind guy. "Yeah, I'll see what I can scrounge up so long as you promise not to kill me first chance you get."

After a few minutes of searching over, around, under and sometimes even [i]in[/i] corpses, it turns out that my hesitation to arm someone about twice my height with a medieval weapon was as much a waste of energy, as my search for said weapon.

"N-n-n-nothing." I say as I turn over the latest body- some human like thing with brown skin and wiry hair- my teeth chatter as I speak, and I shiver almost constantly now. I feel I'd done a decent job of doing the "tough guys aren't bothered by the cold routine", but it was exhausting and I wasn't getting anything out of it. Yeah, maybe Tyrael would laugh at me for shivering, but he could go ahead. "N-n-not an-n axe, n-n-not a ssssss-ssword, n-not a d-damn piece of wint-t-t-ter clothiiiiing... G-give m-m-me a m-minute.” 

I hunch over a bit, put my hands in my armpits and just try to get some circulation back as I try to think.

I start going over my winter survival courses from back in basic, then quickly discard all that when I remember how useless most of it was to someone without proper military equipment. My mind begins to wander, a bad sign in someone shivering as much as I was by that point. For some reason I keep thinking back on a guy I knew name Gus- old pitfighter I met back when I used to sneak out at night to watch brawls. This'd be when I was a teenager and a right little twit. Night I met Gus it was because I ended up “accidentally” spilling my drink on some huge guy- massive fella, around nine feet tall; probably would've been the end of me if Gus hadn't just come up and nutted him. That was Gus though, dirtiest fighter I'd ever seen. Gus was a genius barfighter, could see the weapon in anything- a wall, a cloth, I even saw him pick up someone's arm after it'd been cut off and go clubbing with it. Talking with him had been a real education.

I shake my head, try to clear it, look around... and I catch something I hadn't before. Four figures between us and the castle; I zoom in on them as much as I can... all in recognizable winter clothing, both human as far as I could tell. As I watch, first one and then the other move off, leaving one with goggles and another who, according to my expert investigation skills, was probably a woman.

That got my circulation going- Memories of past slogs through inhospitable landscape begins to blend into this one. Anyone with winter clothing was probably someone who had chosen to be here, so very possibly an enemy... What are my assets? First, I had the clothes on my back, then a mostly dead stunner. Ok, what else? One ally-sorry, one blind person who hadn't tried to kill me yet. The environment. Snow; most people wouldn't be able to see through this whiteout that far, we could use that. I scrape a foot down through the snow- Rocks. Ok, a plan forming here- I couldn't hold a candle to Gus, but even I could figure out what to do with a rock.

I go over to an outcropping of rock and begin to excavate the snow; tiny flecks of blood stain the white with specks of scarlet from the miniscule cuts on my fingers accrued during my search- I don't feel it though, not really. All I feel from my fingers is the constant burn of frostbite beginning its hold.

Down past a foot of powder I find a stone about the size of my fist, maybe a bit larger. Not much of a weapon on its own but better than nothing. Now if only I had a nice thick branch and some rope I could emulate old Gus...

My eyes settle on this one corpse's arm, and I just stare at it for a while. Then my brain catches up to what my eyes have already figured out “Even an arm...” I mutter. I go over to the body, put the stone in its hand and it fits perfectly. Then I rip off bits of cloth from the surrounding bodies and tie the hand shut so the rock can't possibly fall out. I grab the wrist of and put my foot up against the elbow. “You sh-sh-should be g-glad you c-c-can't see, bec-cause... Eh, thisss's gonna b-be gruesome.” Then I pull my foot up and stomp. There's a gross kind of crackle as the elbow breaks, and I shudder- well, I was shuddering already, but now it's from something other than the cold.

“C-come over here and p-p-pull this guy's forearm off. It's gonna be your mace.”