(no subject)
[he knew it was coming, at least, in here he knew it was coming. But that didn't make it less of a surprise when the reinforcements did not come. Did not make it less strange when the Mercians overwhelmed the few good men he had left. Didn't make his eyes widen in shock and disbelief less when the sword pierced his stomach and one through his back and he fell sideways, sword dropped and forgotten. Clutching at his stomach and wishing for the strength to stay, to look after Morgana.
No. None of it was of any use, none of it lessened the blows. None of it stopped him taking his last breath.
But he did, somehow, end up here. Dead... but still alive in a sort of way, at least in the room. The wounds were scaring over though there was blood still on him, his armour.
Someone poke him? He's out for the count.]
((Gorlois has officially died. The poor man. But he's here for now, possibly forever. As if the room needs more spooks - even if he is solid enough. Fatal wounds are fatal.))
No. None of it was of any use, none of it lessened the blows. None of it stopped him taking his last breath.
But he did, somehow, end up here. Dead... but still alive in a sort of way, at least in the room. The wounds were scaring over though there was blood still on him, his armour.
Someone poke him? He's out for the count.]
((Gorlois has officially died. The poor man. But he's here for now, possibly forever. As if the room needs more spooks - even if he is solid enough. Fatal wounds are fatal.))