Deacon moved among the wreckage, hands idly brushing along the nocks of arrows standing in the ground as he reassembled the attack in his head.  "Hmmm.  Lots of shooters, they would have needed a place..."  He swung off the road into the trees, clambering up onto limbs to see if he could find an archer stand.  Anything left behind could be a clue.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">It's cool, man.  I'm still here, and I totally feel you on the IRL issues.  Just hang in there, and know we are chillin with you. <br/></div></div>