Mabya rushes to Marguerites side and shakes her shoulder.
"Stranger, do not die, they were figments! You are unhurt! Please!"
Search Posts
With a slightly confused look, Mabya takes one hand off her sword and reaches out, waving her arm back and forth through the space the (red) orcs body takes up. "Um... I don't think these orcs are orcs."
With a nervous look at her smaller companions, Mabya quickly move to place herself between them and the creatures, drawing her sword as she does so.
After pausing a moment to see if anyone else volunteers, a well muscled young woman raises her hand from the middle of the crowd. "If I am needed, I will go." She then tries to weave her way through her neighbors, making apologetic murmurs as her large frame jostles those she passes. "Sorry, sorry, 'scuse me, woops, sorry..."
Dotting as I try to alias! |