(OOC:While not strictly a 1x1 RP it is closed to those that have been invited, this seemed like the best place to put it.) Isa glared at the man standing over him. Forcing himself to focus on the tip of the sword pointed at his chest as he ran a checklist of his body. Hi legs were useless, one was hamstrung and the knee of the other had been shattered after the first guy’s blow had struck it at a sideways angle. An arrow in his side that had just missed his lung made it harder to breath than the three cracked ribs. A dagger in his bicep had effectively eliminated his left arm, and he was using his rapidly dwindling power to block out the pain that should have left him screaming. His weapons two wood staffs lay on the ground behind him, he'd dropped Andras halfway through the fight and Melltith was pinned under another corpse. His pouch of Runes had been dropped when he'd hastily attempted to draw one out and ripped it free from the leather thong that held it to his belt. “Give it up. You can’t stop me, much damage you have it would be a miracle to even think straight.“ The last of the bandits that had ambushed him drove a swift blow into his already shattered knee the flare of pain temporally overcoming the small shield he’d been using to ignore it. “I,” He paused as his chest and lungs spasmed around arrow in his side. He licked his lips and tried again. “I’m sorry.” A look of confusion crossed the man’s face for a moment. “Yeah not as sorry as my friends you killed are.” Isa closed his eyes and moved his hand the last few inches to grab the man’s leg giving him the physical contact needed to feed his hunger. The man screamed as the lethal cold of his life being devoured flashed through his blood. Within moments the small country road was full of dead and dying. “That’s why I’m sorry.” He mumbled as he felt his mind drift away, already the stolen life was beginning to mend him. He struggled up fumbling to retrieve his belongings and pull himself off the road. By the time the real pain of the healing set in he had hidden himself in a small hollow the two weapons he hated and admired clutched in his hands. This time he didn't fight the wave of pain, letting it carry him into the dark oblivion of unconsciousness. He Had suffered more Damage in the past without dieing, He felt it would be a few hours before the wounds had closed and he could move again, till then he would sleep through the pain. Though the road he'd been traveling was small and unfrequented he'd still taken the precaution of pulling out the Note that said to wait at least a week before performing funeral rights for him. He'd never forget coming out of a healing stupor in the midst of a raging fire. He planned to find food after waking and then bury the men he'd killed once he'd eaten. Till then the bodies would be a beacon to anyone that came near him, and the trail of blood leading to his hollow would likely stay fresh for another hour.