As the nurses bundled about in the infirmary, a figure could be seen making his way out, wiping his hands clean of blood with a damp rag as he gave off a low sigh. The man was a fair deal shorter than most others in the keep, dressed in furred skins with tough leather armor worn over it for protection. Intense green eyes peered out from a furrowed brow as the figure, which could easily be recognize as a dwarf not only by his short stature, but for his impressive beard. It was like a cascade of fire, stretching down to his gut, it's wild tongues spreading out in nearly every direction, some of which had been tamed into short, thick braids that where held in place by wooden charms, Slyvan characters inscribed upon them ancient blessings of protection and peace. The rest of his hair was no less wild, reaching down just past his shoulders in a mess of braids, two of which were thicker than the rest and framed his stern expressions rather nicely. This man was obviously not from the area, nor was he one that looked like he'd been near a town in quite some time. Everything from the way he walked, to the slightly predatory scowl upon his face, even his breathing seemed to suggest he had more in common with beasts then he did other men.

[i]Damn kobolds. . . savage buggers really did a number on the people here. I wonder how many will survive the night-[/i] The dwarf thoughts led him to look out of one of the windows nearby that he passed, his eyes focusing on the dark shape flying through the sky like the harbinger of doom it was.[i]That's assuming, however, that any of us survive this situation in the first place. Why that devil hasn't attacked the keep yet, I don't know, but I doubt anyone here is strong enough to fight it off, especially not with all of the kobolds scampering around, waiting for a chance to stab us in our livers when our backs are turned.[/i]

The dwarf let out a soft curse in his mother tongue, his voice gruff and raspy from untold years of disuse. Continuing on his way through the Keep, he came upon the main gates, where he saw that a number of villagers had come back from the city, carted along by a moderately interesting group of strangers. One of the guards was speaking to them, asking for introductions and the like. Hurrik quickly turned his attention away from the exchange, instead going back to going about this side of the keep, not looking forward to diving back into the grisly work that was healing. As he walked, he noticed one of the Monks that were scattered about walking off in the direction of what he had been told to be the baths. As the large man made his way off, Hurrik simply watched him off without much of a word, before turning his eyes back to the group at hand. He seemed to ruminate on something for a bit,before letting out a sigh, walking back towards the Infirmary, muttering inaudibly under his breath as he prepared to see if he could make a difference in the balance of life and death today. So far, death was taking a rather large haul with him off into the Ether, and he didn't doubt that it'd only get larger as the situation unfolded.