Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-24416658-20140401010735/@comment-24487330-20140713221533

Camo could hear footsteps racing toward him, and he tried to stand up again, but his hands slipped from the grip on his bow, and he collapsed forward, softly landing face-first in freshly-split wood chips. Judging by the sounds of heavy footfalls, it was Tanner who reached him first. He suddenly felt disoriented as his body left the ground, courtesy of the fighter's powerful clutches lifting him up. His bow slipped from his hand as he left the forest floor; hopefully, one of the others would pick it up, or the shock of losing his most prized possession might just kill him later.

Anyway, the incapacitated archer knew that he was in no position to refuse help from anyone, so he kept his complaints to himself. In the back of his mind, though, he continued to curse his weakness and frailty, again being forced to rely on the strength of his allies to survive. He would continue to avoid any eye contact, even after they returned to the campsite to recover and compose themselves. Maybe it was just shame or inadequacy, but something was clearly festering within, and he wouldn't speak to any of them about it, at least not yet...