A body....
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The cold north wind blows relentlessly thru the pass, stirring the freshly fallen snow and chilling those caught in its icy grip to the very core. The sun has long since set and the light of a full moon blankets the land with a faint glow, outlining the dark and lifeless trees against the stark white snow. Against a small outcropping rests what appears to be a torn and battered body, dressed in a dented and worn full-plate that scatters the faint light of the moon over its copper and balck, it dances across the uneven and numerous scratches and dings. A horned helm sits aside the body, an arm holding it close.
There is no life here, only the dark and the cold… a bloodied face seems to be at rest with a single eye closed for the final sleep. It appears as if a struggle has taken place as there is blood visible even in the haze of the moon against the pure and fresh snow... whatever it was that bested the man is no longer here but the smell of a fight is thick about the body.
A battered and heavily used shield is resting across the lifeless, out-stretched legs with simple words painted across it in a dark, crimson ink:
Tell me baby me sorry
The snow whips in the cold wind and the icy grip of death settles finally over the night taking with it the man most knew as Mil....
OOC: this is farewell... hugs to you all
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// :noway: Take care man, we'll miss you
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Nyda looks for a long moment at the fallen warrior, then, after glancing up at the moon, tears standing in her eyes, calls forth the power of her goddess to grant her strength and lifts the body. She cradles it in her arms and walks, tears still flowing, to Jiyyd and to the Temple of Helm where she lays Milshot out, with sword and shield beside him. She then heads of seeking Alia, knowing that if someone must tell her the news it should be a friend who can offer what little comfort is possible in such dire circumstances.
