Rira’s shoulders were aching. The edges of plating on Dalthrun’s boots were digging into her hands. Rira marched forward, carrying the bulk of the unconscious dwarf’s weight. She heard the dragging of metal on dirt behind her. Without looking she called out, “Pick up the base wizard boy!”
Weight shifted behind her as Jerek lifted up the dwarf’s hands a little higher. She heard him let out a small groan, barely able to carry the weight.
Rira held onto Dalthrun’s boots on either side of her hips. Her shoulders and arms were strong and tight. She was strong and had a definition that showed it. She wore a fitted leather armor, one built for function rather than show. Most merchants tried to sell her pieces with intricate details. She finally found a leather worker that would make a set to keep her safe, rather than show off. With layers of padding and thick pieces placed to keep her safe, Rira was sweating under the strain. She walked with sure footing in sensible boots for the time she spent out in the woods and wilderness.