Two days with Tec & Too many Bottles later

It had roughly been two days with this piss-poor excuse for a group. We even had a new addition--a ranger, hmph. At least he can aim. Dral hit that guard in the dead black night air without a flinch.

Now standing there in the dark seeing what little his drow vision allowed he heard mayhem from the blacksmiths. Then flash a torch lit in the hand of Val, their make-shift leader; Tecuani had little objections to being in the shit-storm they got themselves into. Then a brighter flash happened and the crazed warlocks head was illuminated. Starting to think things are getting a little haphazard Tec itches for his blades as if already hearing the arrow that is bounding for his flesh.

Tecuani lets out a snarl that shook the shit off the shadow mans shingles. The mutts that attacked his fellow drow party member even seemed to timid-down and let the guards that showed up deal with whatever beast was attacking what they guarded and valued so much if anything worth a shit at all besides some worn blacksmith robes. 

Blood now dripping from his shoulder where his wound showed. Letting out a huge snarl and a hack at the arrow, he moved forward toward the guard in a strengthened calm pace. The shattered piece of what is left of the guardsmen arrow in shambles beneath his bare feet. Grunt as he walked, keeping pace, Tecuani honed his hearing, an arrow was fired from another direction--it missed the crazed hudo-man. Blank still silent but the Guardsmen that found her wasnt. Tecuani recognized that shrill of an excuse for a beratone, he was the same oaf that believed the priestess story, while mainly true it could have went either way. She did have a habbit of letting her silver tongue slip and not in the most favorably entertainig ways to this drow.

The line was crossed in his mind tho, in this drow. Some may say he did not think he is simply barbaric, a romantic may same he was saving his fellow drow out of some long-lost longing he had since a pup. Despite his intentions Tecuani was not about to get shot and let this poor excuse for a shot live. When he had reach the archer Tecuani let out an incomprehensible howl, with one quick swing, in a dark roadway; the lifeless guardsmen body fell to the cobblestone. His head rolling away leaving a pool of bloodied chaos all around. Pulling his second axe out of the now-useless armor, Tecauni mumbled a half-hearted apology to the fallen warrior as it wasn't his intention to kill a respectable member of society, but seeing as he did not know this man inparticuarly he took his impression from the annoying filth of a guard leader that now was now caught up with bilkin in some mind-meld witchery which Tecuani felt was under control, he took a step towards the guard when another arrow flew through his chest in the same area as before.

Fueling his new-found rage, this second arrow, ravaged all intelligent thought from Tecuani as he stormed towards his assailant. Letting out a earth shattering roar Tecuani ripped the arrow from his chest crushing it in his mouth with his bare teeth as a sign of disregard for the pain anyone could inflict on him. He focused only on the second archer until all lights went out again and he heard Val's voice in the distance beckoning everyone back. Tecuani did not care to follow the orders he wanted justice for his fellow drow, for his now TWICE shot shoulder... He wanted an eye-for-an-eye or at least a second shoulder...

Tecuani did not particularly care for this guard especially that he was already about to decapitate when he heard the hudu-man yell "We abandoned reason when you LIT THE TORCH!" Slightly chuckling at the notion, there was without reason for this violence, Tecuani considered for a moment what the scholar and his fellow barbarian were trying to accomplish, which was: Get everyone the HELL out of there ALIVE. That is what Tecuani was doing though he thought to himself as he watched the blood drip from his lips as he walked. While we had done a minor crime for a good purpose, we may have needed to darken our pallets to finish this "pony-princess" rescue mission.

So Tecuani stood there, no longer walking to the guard with the snide remarks and the know-how to make Tecuani a fugitive. Should he slice him in two, too?-he thought. It would serve a useful purpose for himself and perhaps the group. However knowing, from his painful past that a loss of life does not fill the blood split by another he sheathed his right weapon and thought on a diplomatic, "silver-tongue & cheeked" way to explain the madness that has unfolded to this less than capable sack of potatoes of a guard captain, as he drank from a cracked ale bottle he stashed away before the night's blood was spilled.

Now Tecuani was right where he was two days before, just wounded, bloodied and most likely wanted for his brutish actions. His grouply counter-parts offered him a way and a cover, not only to his current situation but perhaps to questions he's been asking himself through most of his solitary life.