[center][h3][b][color=a187be]Lorenzo of Windor[/color][/b][/h3][hider=Gear]
- Three different cloaks. One black, one brown, and one lavender. (Not including a white one wrapped around Martyrdom) 
- Trusty Bow
- Quiver of Arrows, approximating twenty-five.
- A thick red blanket made by his mother.
- Two bones. [u][i](One chewed a fair bit)[/i][/u]
- The best beef jerky he had. [u][i](4/6 meals remaining)[/i][/u]
- Flask of mysterious beverage.
- Flask of water.
- 20 meters of fine quality rope.
- A modestly-wealthy sum of gold.
[/hider][/center][hr]
Lorenzo carefully guided Merlin over to the trainers in the back, the man simply looking down upon their mangled flesh with a grief-stricken face. This is what had happened to them in the end. This was how their books had closed, and how the painting had finished. He... he wasn't happy about it. He could only hope to send their families his condolences after all this was over. [color=a187be]"... sorry it happened to you two, Jacob and William."[/color] They were two fine trainers. Nowhere able to muster the control Lorenzo had, but still quite fantastic. 

The artist pulled out his notebook before writing on the pages, tearing the pages out once the names and general looks of the faces were scribed. He then dropped them to their remains before pulling the hood of his cloak over his head and hiding his tears. One man, a more stout and religious sir with shortened hair, had the name of "William Righton" scribed onto their paper, the other man was a tall and lanky figure, a series of art materials poking from the bag that he had with him. "Jacob Twiggins." 

Lorenzo turned the steed towards Martyrdom's hiding place before walking back over there, keeping his hood drawn.