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- Character Biography
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West of the Spine - The Abandoned Town of Kuk'rik
Cal held his side with a grimace, pulling away his hand for only a brief second to see the blood slowly seeping into his tunic. Lips thinned, and he could feel himself getting woozy as he slowly leaned against the wall.
This job was supposed to have been easy, simple.
The old Dwarven town had been abandoned for more than two centuries, longer by some claims. It had all been picked clean by treasure hunters and adventurers. To most it was worthless, just an empty husk of stone buildings and drained fountains that hadn't held water in generations. Yet what was a waste to some, was an opportunity for others.
Bandits had taken up residence within the city, a small band numbering less than a dozen...or so Cal and the others had been lead to believe. When they had taken the contract, all signed individually, the citizens of the nearby town had assured them that there was no more than twelve Bandits. What they had found instead was ten times that number.
More than a hundred of those bastards had made their home here, and more than two of them could do magic of some sort.
The mercenaries Cal had come with were all but scattered. Most of them had been killed, though some might still have been alive. He had dropped his crossbow somewhere, though still held on to the two knives on the small of his back. They were the only weapons he had left, aside from the few bombs he that still clung to his vest.
Not that it seemed like he'd get a chance to use them now. "Fuck, gotta find a way out."
The no mercenary said to himself quietly as he looked down at his wound again, wondering how long it would take for the Bandits to send out search parties to find any survivors.
Bastards weren't exactly known for mercy.
Cal held his side with a grimace, pulling away his hand for only a brief second to see the blood slowly seeping into his tunic. Lips thinned, and he could feel himself getting woozy as he slowly leaned against the wall.
This job was supposed to have been easy, simple.
The old Dwarven town had been abandoned for more than two centuries, longer by some claims. It had all been picked clean by treasure hunters and adventurers. To most it was worthless, just an empty husk of stone buildings and drained fountains that hadn't held water in generations. Yet what was a waste to some, was an opportunity for others.
Bandits had taken up residence within the city, a small band numbering less than a dozen...or so Cal and the others had been lead to believe. When they had taken the contract, all signed individually, the citizens of the nearby town had assured them that there was no more than twelve Bandits. What they had found instead was ten times that number.
More than a hundred of those bastards had made their home here, and more than two of them could do magic of some sort.
The mercenaries Cal had come with were all but scattered. Most of them had been killed, though some might still have been alive. He had dropped his crossbow somewhere, though still held on to the two knives on the small of his back. They were the only weapons he had left, aside from the few bombs he that still clung to his vest.
Not that it seemed like he'd get a chance to use them now. "Fuck, gotta find a way out."
The no mercenary said to himself quietly as he looked down at his wound again, wondering how long it would take for the Bandits to send out search parties to find any survivors.
Bastards weren't exactly known for mercy.