[ Pathetic, Iorveth thinks, of the man currently clutching his neck and writing on the ground. He doesn't spare him a second glance before he lunges towards the second soldier, aiming for the parts of him that aren't wrapped in leather armor－ which is primarily his face, his neck. Iorveth lands a shallow cut across the man's face, bisecting the bridge of his nose and causing him to lurch backwards in pain and anger; the man fumbles with his weapon and goes for a desperate strike that Iorveth parries with a twist of his burnt wrist (ow). He uses that momentum to shove his opponent onto his back, then land a savage kick to the side of his head that knocks him out immediately.
More gurgled screaming by the man with the hole in his throat. Iorveth hurries towards Astarion to cut his ropes, choosing to free him before making sure that the two men are properly dead.
(In the distance, the other three who are scouting in the forest hear the sound of a scuffle back at camp; they turn around, sensing trouble.) ]
We can stay and fight, or we can run. [ As he saws at Astarion's bindings. ] The others will be back soon.
no subject
More gurgled screaming by the man with the hole in his throat. Iorveth hurries towards Astarion to cut his ropes, choosing to free him before making sure that the two men are properly dead.
(In the distance, the other three who are scouting in the forest hear the sound of a scuffle back at camp; they turn around, sensing trouble.) ]
We can stay and fight, or we can run. [ As he saws at Astarion's bindings. ] The others will be back soon.