Robert wakes up in a familiar place. The bed he laid upon was hard and the air was thick with the smell of camp smoke. He gives a sigh as he tries to slide off the bed. His muscles cried out as he stood. They were sore and tender with every movement feeling like he was swimming through sand.
How long was he out, a few hours, a day, longer? Longer would be bad. Seeing as how staying here wouldn't do anything, he headed outside. It was bright outside with the sun directly overhead. The village was awake and moving as denizens moved through the dirt streets. Venders hawking their goods as farmers toiled in the fields. The smack of metal on metal sounded from the smithy.
He heard and seen it all before but it was different this time. The sounds were more crisp and audible. Whispers were heard from yards away. The air hung with the smell of damp dirt. Humidity clung to his skin more so than usual. No, no all of these were the same as before, just different in presentation. It's like the world before was muffled and now it's not.
Senses overflow from their origin. Though, it's not painful. There's no overflow nor overload. Everything is simply where they should be, instead of where they once were. Or that's how it feels.
"Egh." Robert shakes his head and instead focuses and finding either Sam or Ron. They were there with him when he fell and seeing as how he's at the healer's place, they probably brought him there. A thank you would be nice to give them. The walk should also make everything hurt less. Walk it off, everyone says.
It's while thinking this that a sudden commotion rings out some fifty yards away. Screams and panic and stomping of feet filled the air with a cacophony of sounds. Villagers ran away up the road towards Lord Quince's castle. "It's a Raid! Men gather up, women grab the children and run." Calls out a strong voice.
An arrow is soon loosed from his string and a cry sounds out. Robert shakes himself before running towards the fight. He rune by people narrowly crashing on several occasions. Sounds of metal clashing against metal as more screams of pain and cries for war echo just fifty feet away. As fast as his legs can carry him does Robert enter the fray.
He sees it all now, more than he ever wanted to. Corpses already lay on the ground as blood puddles beneath them. Men in leather gambesons wearing masks swing swords and axes at farmers carrying spears. Already four are dead with more injured. Robert sees it all and sees also the axe head coming towards his own head. He duck-weaves under it and counters with an uppercut. Fist meets chin as the man isn't prepared to defend.
A smile spreads across Roberts face before being dashed. The man stays on his feet and glares down at him. A sudden knee lands itself in Roberts stomach and air leaves chest. Ugh, egh, ogh. The man brings the axe overhead and swings down. Axe meets not but air as Robert shoulder checks him, getting in close and personal.
Robert plants his feet, grabs the man's waist bringing him in close, and lifts. The man's feet leave the ground for a second before he slams his shield into Roberts face. Pain explodes as shock travels through the body and bones. Another slam sends Robert to the ground. Hazy visage and muffled sounds.
Taste of dirt and iron in his mouth, nose clogged, eyes blurry. He turns his head to see a figure stand above him with mouth spread in glee. An axe raised high catches the glint of sunlight. The sight is gone quick as the axe falls, cutting through air and into despair.
Blood spurts as bone and viscera are exposed to air. The metal head jostles against ribs as it's wriggled out. The axe head is almost out when a hand grabs it and keeps it locked in place. Another hand pushes against the ground as a foot is placed underneath. Robert rises with the ax sticking out of abdomen. Pain was great but Life is greater.
The man who was holding the axe let go and took a step back, fear crossing his face. What stood in front of him was a corpse, no one can survive such an attack. His thoughts are proven wrong when the axe is forced out and rests in Roberts hands.
If one looked closely, they could see the floating ribs and some intestines trying to peek out. With axe in hand Robert swung horizontally. The swing wasn't fast, nor precise, nor relatively strong, but it struck true anyways. The last thing the bandit saw was the corpse burying his own axe into his head.