Raenwe stalked the field looking for retreating foes, those not quite dead enough yet, and the remainder of his command. "Where the hell is Seb? The lazy bastard was supposed to be following me when I charged the ArchDuke? I'll have his bloody hide for malingering so 'elp me." "I think he has fair excuse sir" claimed Bryon patiently, "I saw him borne over yon cliff by a vampire, Borric is looking for him now sir." Raenwe cursed and stomped over to the cliff, "well? Is he dead Borric?" Borric shook his head, "looks like his cloak caught on a rock sir, he's hanging half way down." Raenwe snorted and looked down, "not good enough Bry, make a note, if he gets whomped by the first vampire who pansies along flapping his cloak again I'll have him on a charge." Bryon sighed slowly, "indeed sir, sets a bad example to the regular's, I'll make your rules clear to him sir." "Too right you will, now get him up while I go find us a keg of beer and we'll have a drink to Tarren and Rob." Smiling broadly Bryon set about lowering a rope to the stunned templar while Raenwe stomped off, that was their captain Raenwe, toughest standards, toughest man, but a heart of gold.