Snippet #2119583

Garren was running through the woods, his feet hitting the ground with soft thuds with every step he had took. His lungs heaved in pain and sweat dripped from his brow as he continued, he could taste blood in his mouth from the sheer exertion of breath his lungs took. What had happened? One moment he was playing his Harp with a young female performer form one of the Northern Kingdoms in a small tavern off the side of the road. Suddenly he had felt a sense of dread and about half an hour later something or someone broke down the Tavernkeep's door and began mauling a patron. And soon the room was filled with screams of horror, pain and odd snarls and moans. Garren didn't think twice, he gathered his things and slipped out a window with ease. Then now he was on the run, through the woods as fast as his nimble feet and legs could carry him.

His cloak fluttered behind him as he continued his dash, instruments making noise upon his back as the lute and harp rattled around in their leather bindings. He was terrified, as a man with little nerve that was horrible. The blood, oh the blood! And the screams, the horrible screams! Kept playing through his mind, driving him on further than he would normally go. All that he cared about at this damn moment was escape and hopefully to somewhere safe, guarded by mighty knights! If such a thing existed, though likely his mind was just fooling him in his state of shock and panic. Luckily so far he had come across none of those... Things in the woods. They seemed clear, safe, quite. Silence was heavy upon the area, only causing his nerves to wiggle more under his skin and bone.

Then noise. He suddenly stopped and slid up against a tree as silently as he could, peaking around looking for any of those creatures that had attacked the Blueberry Tavern on the roadside. But instead, it wasn't some deranged man-looking thing. It was an actual man, one limping along and covered in blood, an eye covered as he muttered to himself. Garren could tell he was no knight due the sack-crafted leather armor and the many scars across the person's face. But yet, this was the only chance Garren had and the man had both blade and bow. So he obviously knew a thing or two about the art of combat. With a resigned sigh he slinked out from beside the tree and waved over to the man. "Oi! You there! You must help me!" The bard called and stepped forward nervously, he was hoping the man was a hunter, or woodland dweller, though he was probably going to end up utterly wrong. But then again, it was the only chance of any aid at this point and the man looked hurt. Garren could help him, though not without an exchange for protection.