IC - The Hunt

I should have expected that... oh well, distraction it is...

"Now I know it is you Dommic! You can only hit people in the back!" he shouts.

"You an' your brother both ain't half what you think you are; probably why Ciara chose the other lad!"

Danill hopes the others are capitalizing on this "distraction", or that it's even working.

He peeks up ever so slighly.

Damir looks around and assesses the situation. He cannot help his people with the blasted arrow protruding out of his flesh, sending waves of searing pain through his body. The boy got him and he got him good. Shall the lovesick hunter be the end of him?
Gods knew.

The Guardian seeks shelter among his fellow fighters and slides behind another boulder close to Ognimir and his raised shield. He nods to his old friend and swallows hard. Damir feels for the head of the arrow. It has not come out on the other side of his shoulder. Unfortunately this means he cannot push the projectile out unassisted. Pulling in the direction of the shaft might cause even more damage depending on the type of arrow. So the warrior decides to leave the head in for now. With a smooth movement he breaks the shaft of the arrow close to the wound. Then he tears some fabric from his shirt and starts wrapping his shoulder as best he can.

With Danill distracting-- not to say enraging-- the archer above them, Quintus Quail takes the opportunity to scuttle from tree trunk to tree trunk. He's trying to work his way around the side of the promontory, to a position where he can see, and therefore target, their foe.

Ognimir holds the shield protectively and watches as Damir works on the arrow.
He reflects on the mystical dreams of last night and wonders if Diminish Golem as a spell would help at all with this arrow...but feels it is unlikely.

Quintus raises his crossbow with bitten lip and queasy bowels. It doesn't seem sporting to shoot a man in the back, but then neither was it honorable of their quarry to fire upon them, unannounced, from a position of stealth and vantage.

Desperate times, on all hands.

Quintus trains the crossbow's bolt upon the stranger. He narrows his eyes, exhales softly, and pulls the trigger.

Damir focuses on a small spot on the ground for a moment. He concentrates on his breathing and wills away the darkness lurking somewhere behind him - around him, trying to overcome him. He feels the wound with his fingertips and welcomes the sharp pain - it brings him back, helps him clear his head.

He hastily ties a piece of cloth around the injury and looks up ahead. Damir witnesses Ognimir getting shot at, Danill is crouching and waiting close by. From his point, Damir cannot see Quintus, but guesses he has made his way up the hill while the shooter has been giving all his attention to the three other men approaching.

Damir gets his own shield in position, then follows the young man up the precipice. He does not draw his sword just yet as he reckons he has to get closer. The Guardian carefully makes his way trusting in his party to work together. "Oy!", he shouts. Distracting the shooter might help Quintus reaching the right spot. But just as he raises his voice, Damir hears the sound of Quintus' crossbow.