[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/lW4Q3DF.png[/img]

[hr][b]Interacting with:[/b] King Arcel[@Force and Fury] Ulfhild [@Salsa Verde], All in the Red Table
[b]Opportunity:[/b] Arnaud is nearly finished by Ulfhild, awakens from a short coma and shows up at the Red Table. He's not very happy to see one is missing.
[hr][b]Event:[/b] Aftermath of Relouse [b]Location:[/b] The Torn Beach -> Medical Ward -> Red Table [hr][/center]

It had gotten so cold. As the accumulated water made-instrument of death washed over the entire field and dragged Arnaud’s near-lifeless body through the blood-soaked mud of Relouse, he could only feel the cold air brushing through his damp body. It was unpleasant, and he hated it even in his half-conscious state. The man had not only overdrawn but also went far beyond what his neglected and ageing body could physically allow. Now laid a fat, broken warrior with skin and tattoos that didn’t match the average Parrench. His chest still mightily heaved, making it impossible to mistake him for dead, but it was easy to confuse him for an interloper that had no place in the war now that his recognizable armour had been peeled off by the foe he had vanquished.

The Aheri’s eyes could barely open. It felt like flashes of time passing by. Sometimes he would see a blade swing just over his eyes from a battle between two men fighting until the end. Sometimes he simply saw the smoke-covered skies above.

[color=7F4C20][i]Am I dying?[/i][/color]

He couldn’t move. Perhaps this was the end? And then an unexpected sight: A maiden whose features were blurred. He couldn’t see properly, but his imagination handled the missing details.

[color=7F4C20][i]I must have perished. It is as some say- The virtuous are granted many wonders after death. The five take mercy even upon a beast like me.[/i][/color]

There was a smile, but not one Ulfhild could see. Arnaud was for all intents and purposes immobile and defenceless. As the knife drew closer, his wheezing got louder.

[color=7F4C20][i]A warrior too. One to mercifully claim my life. In a battlefield where so many die shitting themselves with their entrails ripped out. I am unworthy.[/i][/color]

His dark eyes were almost daring the Eskandr huntress to finish the deed, but it would not come to pass. Something stopped her.

[color=3cb371]“You’ll see me again,[/color]

[color=7F4C20][i]A wondrous thing to hear, Siwa.[/i][/color]

[color=3cb371]I’ll make sure of it, [i]Parrench dog[/i].”[/color]

[color=7F4C20][i]Parrench. Even the Eskandr maiden-warriors of my afterlife recognize me for what I am. Do not leave, please.[/i][/color]

The envoy of death left, and Arnaud soon lost full consciousness. His bleeding and massively bruised body left to be claimed by the elements. It would be a few minutes after the semi-delirium that he would be found by one of his last remaining men. He alone dragged the Aheri back to safety, as Maerec and many others that could be counted on were left to confront their own turbulent fates.

Two days passed. There was no Asier visiting the near-comatose Arnaud. The few good souls dedicated to easing the pain of the suffering feared to approach the man. Partially for his unusual appearance, but also for the fact that he did have bouts of delirium in his ‘sleep’. Mumbles of the words ‘Bouzima’ and ‘Ahsal-hama’ were very common, and were sometimes even screamed to the dismay of the staff and the ill alike. It was only thanks to Moustafa, the same man that salvaged his once master, that Arnaud was properly tended after. As his bruises receded and both mana and body recuperated, his mind adjusted too.

He awoke the day Arcel called for a meeting- just an hour prior. Arnaud’s legs were killing him, his back even more. The perforated gut he carried for a couple of years now stung like he had never felt before. It was better for him to stay in bed, but none dared to tell Arnaud what to do even in his most vulnerable state. He was merely offered the only thing he needed to serve his Lord: The Face of the Executioner. Neither he nor his men showed a trace of their person as they acted as the King’s Justice. And today would not be an exception, no matter how many hindrances he would have to endure.

The consequences of war did little to the thuds and tremors that came with Arnaud being nearby. He was no Nashorn, but he was still massive with a heavy armour to boot. His steps were slow but his stride was strong. When he arrived at the Red Table, it was a known habit that the executioner would remain standing, usually close to the king, but he took a seat this time. Which one didn’t matter as it wasn’t like anyone would exactly miss a man like an armoured Aheri.

[color=7F4C20]”I remain your Lame, Your Majesty. Point me in a direction and I shall deliver the Justice of Dami and Parrench onto those who oppose your order. I will be an immovable wall or an indiscriminate storm at your command, Mon Roi.”[/color] he recited with considerable zeal. Whether to attack or to defend, Arnaud was the king’s blade and bulwark. He trusted the judgement of the strong, and to this day hadn’t failed in his duties as a loyal ally to the crown.

A silence lingered after his claim, [color=7F4C20]”Has he perished?”[/color] he inquired behind the metallic filter of his featureless helm, [color=7F4C20]”The Lion Knight. Has he known his end at the hand of a few Southerners?”[/color] it was impossible to read his voice as it remained perfectly flat. Behind the veil of metal, Arnaud was grating his teeth. The Tourrare Knight was an asset they couldn’t ignore, and yet he wasn’t here. The Executioner could only deduce a select number of possibilities. Something stirred deep within Arnaud. An anger palpable enough that those with even a slight connection to Force or Essence magic could tell the beast of a man was not in a good state of mind.