<div class="floatleft">(http://www.dfwd20.com/photopost/data/522/medium/Human_Fighter1.jpg)</div><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><br/></strong><hr/><br/>Alfreic allowed Ashley to dress him halfway.  Now that he was beyond the cloud of rage or lust, he... appreciated Ashley's thoughtfulness.  However, he had lost his shirt a while back when he was sent into a rage, so no luck getting that back, he thought.  However...<br/><br/>He turned to look over his shoulder, and then reached behind Ashley's neck and pulled her in for a kiss.  He then snatched Ashley's hand and darted into the woods, dragging Ashley behind him.<br/><br/>"There were some soldiers over this way," he said in mid stride.  "You aren't armed, and it might be just as well for you to carry something in the way of a weapon!"  Alfreic could also use some armor, even if it -was- of Falcovnian make.<br/><br/>But why?  Why the rush?  Why the panic?  Alfreic seemed to function under the same sense of foreboding that urged Ashley to find solace in Alfreic's companionship, but Alfreic felt no sense of foreboding himself.  It was as if he was working under the assumption of foreboding simply because Ashley had implied it.<br/><br/>He was being manipulated... and he did not know it.