It was already getting close to the middle of the second day and there was no sign of Doric. Nyssa and Skia were beginning to worry. They had not been away from Doric for this long since becoming a party and knowing he was in enemy territory on his own really worried them.
They struggled against one sniper. They could only imagine if he encountered one on his own. Meldrid was preparing herself for what she was most likely going to have to do soon. She looked at all her herbs and wondered which would end it the least painfully.
Felchio was sitting in the living room. A dagger in his hand. He examined it for the 100th time since being there. Contemplating the actions he took since becoming the leader of his city, the people he's killed, and the children that he could not save.
Aside from the occasional whimpers of the dwarven kid, the room was deadly silent. It felt like time was at a standstill. Breathing was shallow and seemed to never be enough.