[center][h3][b][color=a187be]Lorenzo of Windor[/color][/b][/h3][hider=Gear]
- Three different cloaks. One black, one brown, and one lavender, and a white one absolutely soaked in blood.
- 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]
Dammit, Merlin! Why now?!

Lorenzo felt the warmth of the glowing rock that the Marque had held, but he honestly didn't concern himself with it. This was quite the predicament indeed, and it was enough to take up all of his attention. The hound trainer drew back the bow, aiming it at the wolfborn in defense as he watched Bastian and Col make their way over to him and Marque. He was just... not in a good position. The archer looked at the Marque with a desperate gaze. [color=a187be]"I hope you know what that is, Marque. I certainly don't recognize what stone that is..."[/color]

Martyrdom was copying what Merlin was doing, looking at the stone and staying as close to it as possible. It was clear that he still minded Lorenzo's actions, but it was also clear that it trusted the stone, much like Merlin. What in the bloody hell is this stone? He was utterly confused by it and only wanted to know what kind of fresh hell the Marque had recruited him for.