<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://www.dfwd20.com/photopost/data/522/medium/Human_Fighter1.jpg)</td><td><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: edwardian;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 2.65em;">Alfreic Slate, Soldier</span></span><br/><em>W/ Ms. Ashley; HP 18 (Current 10)</em></strong></td></tr></tbody></table><hr/><br/>"Accursed draconian weapons," Mr. Slate snarled as he uncharacteristically squeezed Ashley's hand in an effort to subdue her fear.  However, to him, the resonance of the guns seemed to him to emerge from all around him, and Mr. Slate could not discern things the same as Ashley due to his time spent on the front lines.  However, Avonleigh sounded just as good a direction as any.  He wished very much to have been on his horse, however;  and he now found himself hoping that Hornet would be fine.<br/><br/>"It is as good a direction as any," he said finally, walking northeast with dreadful patience towards Avonleigh.   "Should there be any more soldiers, I would be more than happy to extend them the host's reprisal."