[It's late, far too late, when he finally limps through the doorway to Room 12.
He'd lost a golem - an early casualty, though he hadn't abandoned it until the pieces were too small to even consider scraps. One of his legs was locked at an odd angle and possible broken - it had been damaged when he was too slow to dodge and not for the first time he was glad to have wood and metal instead of flesh and bone. He was bleeding from somewhere, he could smell it and feel the damp seeping into his now tattered coat.
So much to repair and replace and he had no idea if he would get any sleep tonight.
And yet, it had been a productive night! Several orcs dead, though none captured, and the city believed itself a little safer. He'd built a bit of goodwill with the city guard, earned a little coin. More importantly, he had new improvements in mind for his remaining golems after seeing how they fared in actual battle.
He finds a spot on the bed that isn't covered in tools and sits gently down. The prosthetic will have to be first, he can't do much else with it in this condition, but it seems impossible to do quietly. Rolling up the pant leg was simple enough, but the buckles jingle cheerfully while he fumbles with the straps.
He can't help it - he laughs at the absurdity of it all, hoping the poor girl sharing the room is a deep sleeper.]
Perhaps this is a sign that it can wait until morning.
Divided - Wildcard!
He'd lost a golem - an early casualty, though he hadn't abandoned it until the pieces were too small to even consider scraps. One of his legs was locked at an odd angle and possible broken - it had been damaged when he was too slow to dodge and not for the first time he was glad to have wood and metal instead of flesh and bone. He was bleeding from somewhere, he could smell it and feel the damp seeping into his now tattered coat.
So much to repair and replace and he had no idea if he would get any sleep tonight.
And yet, it had been a productive night! Several orcs dead, though none captured, and the city believed itself a little safer. He'd built a bit of goodwill with the city guard, earned a little coin. More importantly, he had new improvements in mind for his remaining golems after seeing how they fared in actual battle.
He finds a spot on the bed that isn't covered in tools and sits gently down. The prosthetic will have to be first, he can't do much else with it in this condition, but it seems impossible to do quietly. Rolling up the pant leg was simple enough, but the buckles jingle cheerfully while he fumbles with the straps.
He can't help it - he laughs at the absurdity of it all, hoping the poor girl sharing the room is a deep sleeper.]
Perhaps this is a sign that it can wait until morning.