The New World

[Damien]

Liale's pointed ears perked. A string of curses never escaped a satyr's hearing and this was no acception. He yawned and sat up, rousing himself from the nap he had decided to take. Groggily he peered through the leaves to see where the scource of the cursing was coming from. Wonderful, another Orc in search of the first that he put to sleep. The satyr stood on the branch and shook himself. It'd be no use trying to put a second to sleep, especially considering he himself just woke up from a nap, his mana manipulation was never good when he just work up. The best thing to do would be to run. A little less than nimbly he leap from the branch and onto the ground, creating a rather loud thud.

He really should have looked before he leapt. He had realized that the cursing orc had been so close, in fact he had landed right in front of the creature. Liale blinked slowly, his mind taking a few moments to register his current situation. "...."

Then without warning he turned around and bolted. His speed was rather astonishing, his image had actually blurred when he ran. Overall the entire effect would have been more effective if he hadnt run head first into a tree. A large crash, followed by a pained bleat and ended with a dull thud all happened within a few seconds. Liale lay in a daze at the base of a tree not more than ten feet away from the Orc. He really hated waking up and rushing out of bed. Luckily due to his amazing skeletal structure nothing broke. So instead of laying on the ground and screaming about a broken arm he had stuccoed to his feet and swayed unsteadily. Usually he prepared for impacts when ramming things, however at the moment he had planned to run into that dastardly tree so his attic was rather jarred. So there he was, a half-asleep satyr, staggering around as if he were drunk as he attempted to get the world to stop spinning.