[Cimmerian]

Ozracles grunted in pain, Thorondruin’s make shift nursing, though poor had served its purpose in delaying the wound from getting contaminated. But any longer and the large barbarian would loose the use of his sword arm. He gritted his teeth as they walked back to where the others had been waiting. The others gaped at the blood soaked vest and leggings on Ozracles. Carathon and Livia gasped at the horribly deep gash on the barbarian’s thickly muscled forearm, his callused fingers hung limply as severed nerves rendered them nearly useless. Himelilek approached the barbarian with a smirk.

“Finally met your match, had you?” she sneered.

Ozracles glared at her as Thorondruin laughed, but Livia and Carathon were still aghast at the sight of blood.

“Shut your laughing,” groaned Ozracles, teeth gritting, “And use some of your elven unguents to heal my arm.”

Himelilek smiled smugly and rummaged about in the small pouch she carried on her belt. Fishing out a tiny vial with a flourish, she grabbed at the blood soaked pieces of cloth that held the wound in place and yanked them off with a sharp pull. Ozracles howled in agony and sank to his knees, as the gaping wound spurted red blood all around the two of them. Thorondruin quickly lost his sense of humour and gasped.
Livia turned away and Carathon barely kept his breakfast down.

Ozracles, now delirious with pain, grabbed at the elf as she poured a thick green liquid from the vial over the gaping wound.

“I know I am going to regret this,” she muttered, ‘but we need your brawn for a task like this.”

“Rrrrggghh!” Ozracles stiffened as the elven medicine began to take effect. He tightened his grip on Himelilek and she had to kick him away. The barbarian rolled about on the grassy ground, his loud groans subsiding to whimpers. The wound on his sword arm seemed to close itself up, until all but a dark thin scar remained. One, which the barbarian would display arrogantly when he awoke if only he hadn’t fallen on his own sword. Ozracles slept peacefully.

“How did he fall on his own sword?” Himelilek asked.

“He was taken by surprise.” Thorondruin answered, his eyes were fixated on the vial in the elf’s hand, which she deftly placed back into its pouch. “How long will he be asleep?’

“A few moments, the spell will regenerate his strength as well.”

“Well, without his horse, one of us has to share with him.”

“Not me!” Himelilek snorted.

Thorondruin looked over at Carathon, who gulped hard and looked away. He’d rather have Livia ride behind him, but Ozracles might as well throw the boy off his horse and take it all for himself. But if he placed the girl with Carathon, they may just run away, Thorondruin thought for a while. He surely did not want to have Ozracles sitting behind him.

Then Ozracles woke up and put the lean man out of his dilemma. “I must get my horse back,” he grumbled, rising up on unsteady feet. He looked at his healed arm as if it was new. Flexing his muscles, he smiled at Himelilek.

“Come with me elf. We have a score to settle.”

“Those horse thieves are still near, waiting to ambush us again soon. I agree with the barbarian. We will strike at them before they strike at us again.” Himelilek said in a matter of fact manner.

“Aye!” Ozracles roared, seamlessly sliding his razor-edged broadsword out from its well-worn, leather scabbard. “Come, Elf!”

‘I will stay here with these two.” Offered Thornondruin.

“A wise decision,” smiled Himelilek as she started off after the barbarian, “We will be back in a few turns of the glass.”

“Fare well!” said Carathon meekly but the Barbarian was out of earshot, and the elf couldn’t care less.