Rask's Escape
Head pounding and lungs bursting he finally burst to the surface of the river water. It was filthy and murky mostly from the battle that was in its final stages.
He wiped blood from his face, a wound to his head, not large but being a head wound, bleeding profusely. Squinting through the headache, he could see the bridge he had come off, it looked very much like the Geldheimers now owned the Dragonspan. He may have been recognized, no bother, his work was done, and he was still free, for now.
Rask considered his next moves carefully; he was now well hidden from Kingdom forces – he smirked given he was firmly in their territory. He could most likely now return north to his homeland if he chose, however, there was still much he could do here and, as he had committed when he departed the north some years ago, he knew full well he may die here in the south. He accepted this.
Moridale would no doubt fall – if not sooner than certainly later. They had been punished by both factions – his work though had successfully planted the seed that both Geldheim and Hadovea were in league with the Erayax – he knew they were not, but the perception would further disrupt the southerners.
He would move deeper into Kingdom territory most likely and see where he could infiltrate. He took some time to wrap his head, his clothing was dishevelled enough to cover his current disguise as a dispossessed farmer due to the war. He would meet up with his allies soon enough, his own agents were still at work, some still with Moridale forces to ensure drawing things out until the absolute last moment.
He ate some cold tough rations and curled up in the bushes he was hidden in for a cold and uncomfortable sleep – “I’m too old for this shit.” He thought to himself as he drifted off…
