Arena
The old man leans forward and inspects your wound, his fingers pressing
gently upon it's interior while torturous pain surges through you at his every touch.
"Well, you got the bullet out, that's for sure." He says, stepping back
and smiling. "Have you cleaned the wound?"
"Of course I've cleaned it," you answer.
"Good," He says, "I have a remedy of mosses and herb that I would like
to apply with your permission. And then we should seal the wound."
You study his face, wondering why he is willing to help you in the
midst of a kill-all tournament. You wonder how a frail looking old man has managed to survive this long in the contest. Wondering also if he can be trusted.
gently upon it's interior while torturous pain surges through you at his every touch.
"Well, you got the bullet out, that's for sure." He says, stepping back
and smiling. "Have you cleaned the wound?"
"Of course I've cleaned it," you answer.
"Good," He says, "I have a remedy of mosses and herb that I would like
to apply with your permission. And then we should seal the wound."
You study his face, wondering why he is willing to help you in the
midst of a kill-all tournament. You wonder how a frail looking old man has managed to survive this long in the contest. Wondering also if he can be trusted.