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The Sundren Guards took an interesting story a short while ago, and as of yet are undecided on how to respond. A pair of men, farmers from the area, came stumbling into the city proper. One all but carrying his fellow who appeared to be in the grasp of death itself. Upon inspection, the guards found multiple stab wounds upon the second man, and by all accounts he should have been dead according to the field surgeon on site. When questioned, the uninjured peasant gave this story:
"We were headed out of Tim's farm over to my place when these ruffians jumped us. I didn't want any trouble, so I just dropped my purse and ran for it...not like I carry any money anyway, just a few pebbles to give it some weight and give me a good head start. Anyway, I run off, but when I look back, Tim is still there, got his back against a tree and his club out like he's going to fight! Turns out he was plannin' on hitting the trading post after he left my place, and we don't have a lot of money, so he couldn't afford to lose it, so he stands his ground. No good it did him really, fella about as tall as my thigh snuck up on him and put a dagger in him good...right in the ribs. Tim didn't have a chance. He wasn't even done looking surprised before the other fella ran him through with his blade. They patted him down and left him there.
Now, I ain't no doctor, but I've seen men hurt, and Tim and I both knew he was done for. I came back and tried to help, but it was mostly just the motions, he was bleedin' out too much, nothing to be done. I sat there with him when he passed out, only a few ragged, wet breaths left in him. Well, right about then, this fella comes along, all robes and shadows. Didn't hear a thing when he came up, made my skin want to crawl away and hide. He tells me to move; and let me tell you, sir, when someone like that says to move, you don't ask why. I'm thinking he's going to finish Tim off, but he doesn't. He sits down on top of him, kind of straddle-like, and puts both hands on Tim's chest. Then it got cold...I mean really cold. Ice started creepin up on the grass and the tree Tim was by groaned somethin' awful as it started to freeze. Then, just like that, Tim starts coughin' and groaning and lookin' around. I could hardly believe it! This robed fella gets up and turns to me and says in a voice barely above a whisper that I have about two hours to get him help or he'll be dead as dirt. I picked Tim up and headed here without looking back. Don't know what happened to the robed fella and I don't rightly care. You don't look luck like that in the eye."
Authorities are still unsure how to handle the tale, but the peasant is now recovering normally back at his own home after emergency care in one of the Sundren infirmeries.
"We were headed out of Tim's farm over to my place when these ruffians jumped us. I didn't want any trouble, so I just dropped my purse and ran for it...not like I carry any money anyway, just a few pebbles to give it some weight and give me a good head start. Anyway, I run off, but when I look back, Tim is still there, got his back against a tree and his club out like he's going to fight! Turns out he was plannin' on hitting the trading post after he left my place, and we don't have a lot of money, so he couldn't afford to lose it, so he stands his ground. No good it did him really, fella about as tall as my thigh snuck up on him and put a dagger in him good...right in the ribs. Tim didn't have a chance. He wasn't even done looking surprised before the other fella ran him through with his blade. They patted him down and left him there.
Now, I ain't no doctor, but I've seen men hurt, and Tim and I both knew he was done for. I came back and tried to help, but it was mostly just the motions, he was bleedin' out too much, nothing to be done. I sat there with him when he passed out, only a few ragged, wet breaths left in him. Well, right about then, this fella comes along, all robes and shadows. Didn't hear a thing when he came up, made my skin want to crawl away and hide. He tells me to move; and let me tell you, sir, when someone like that says to move, you don't ask why. I'm thinking he's going to finish Tim off, but he doesn't. He sits down on top of him, kind of straddle-like, and puts both hands on Tim's chest. Then it got cold...I mean really cold. Ice started creepin up on the grass and the tree Tim was by groaned somethin' awful as it started to freeze. Then, just like that, Tim starts coughin' and groaning and lookin' around. I could hardly believe it! This robed fella gets up and turns to me and says in a voice barely above a whisper that I have about two hours to get him help or he'll be dead as dirt. I picked Tim up and headed here without looking back. Don't know what happened to the robed fella and I don't rightly care. You don't look luck like that in the eye."
Authorities are still unsure how to handle the tale, but the peasant is now recovering normally back at his own home after emergency care in one of the Sundren infirmeries.
