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As Bear told his story, Gavriel noticed the Miqo'te walking towards them from the tavern. He had seen her around the camp before and knew she was a sell-sword. Most of the mercenaries at Al'Mian kept to themselves, and she was no different.
"Are you badly injured, sir Roegadyn? Have you been tended?"
Her voice was sweet.
Bear put his fingers to the wound and clenched his teeth in pain, "Argh... it's worse than I thought... I'm going to need a lot of ale... Where's the nearest tavern?"
Gavriel smiled, "You're going to need something a little stronger than ale, my friend."
"Tabrett is it? If you would, head back to the tavern and tell the fat old man to put two fifths of rum on my tab. I I would guess my new friend here can hold his liquor."
"Now Bear, lie back. You'll be fine." Gavriel used his thumb and index finger to peel back the Roegadyn's eyelids. His pupils were two different sizes. He probably had a concussion.
"We'll fix you a few drinks and get you settled. This wound won't heal itself."
"Are you badly injured, sir Roegadyn? Have you been tended?"
Her voice was sweet.
Bear put his fingers to the wound and clenched his teeth in pain, "Argh... it's worse than I thought... I'm going to need a lot of ale... Where's the nearest tavern?"
Gavriel smiled, "You're going to need something a little stronger than ale, my friend."
"Tabrett is it? If you would, head back to the tavern and tell the fat old man to put two fifths of rum on my tab. I I would guess my new friend here can hold his liquor."
"Now Bear, lie back. You'll be fine." Gavriel used his thumb and index finger to peel back the Roegadyn's eyelids. His pupils were two different sizes. He probably had a concussion.
"We'll fix you a few drinks and get you settled. This wound won't heal itself."
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Gavriel Venitiago