Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-3507184-20140617035032/@comment-4964060-20140619014623

(Sol) As I finish tying my steed to a tree with some of my rope, I hear the rustling of bushes behind me. Spinning on the heels of my feet and drawing my crossbow, I fire a single bolt into the bush behind me. I hear a brief squeak of agony before all falls silent. I march towards the shrub, fall to my knees and dig up a pile of decaying rat bones scattered in the brush, my crossbow bolt not too far away. Scooping up the pile of the bones in my hand, I bring it up to my nose before giving it a quick whiff. No mistaking it: necromancy magic. I grunt in annoyance before tosing the pile of bones off to the side and begin to adjust my cloak. As my figure starts to blend in with the darkness around me, I follow the hoof prints left by that damn necromancer's horse.