[ooc; I imagine a lot of swearing :P ]

Lokir sighed as he slumped against a wall with a clattering of armour, sitting on the ground while allowing his helm to drop to wit ha clang. He was clearly exhausted, he had been out in the field for over a day now without sleep and he had wounds covering his body, nothing fatal and nothing that would slow him down in a fight once he got some rest and some food. But they did hurt all the same, without Divine Powers he was back to being a normal werebear, as normal as they could be anyway, and it was telling.

He reached for his canteen of water, opened it and drank all that was left in it, and it was water, he wasn't drinking, yet anyway. He had lost good people out there, some of them trying to protect him because of who he was and it was starting to weigh on his mind. He did not like it one bit that people were sacrificing themselves for him simply because he held a title, it's not what being a God meant, at least not to him. He was supposed to inspire people to fight for themselves, their families and their homes, be that beacon of Strength and Courage that they needed. Not be the one that fight for and die for.

It was why Lokir was pushing himself so hard, knowing that he could be killed out there like anyone else. Yes Angela could bring him back but she might as well have been a world away with the insects all over the place. There would be little chance his corpse could get to her for resurrection if the worst happened, and while he was trying not to let that happen, it was rather hard to tell looking at him.

Lokir stood long enough to unclasp his chest plate and gauntlets and let them fall, his nice black and white armour was scratches and dented and there were a few new holes in it from the last as well. His tower shield hadn't come back with him this time, the trusted shield had finally shattered under a large beetles grip. His bastard sword had seen better days as well, Peacemaker was in its hilt now laying on the ground with his leg armours and boot as he too them off as well. The old bastard sword that had served him well for so long now had chips missing from the blade in a few spots and the very tip was broken off. Lokir was having to use his magically created weapons more now, which was fine, but some of these insects had an easier time shrugging those weapons off over hard steel. He would need to find a new sword soon it seemed, it was good that he was trained in just about every weapon that was around.

Fully out of his armour the werebear slumped back to the ground again and leaned back trying to catch his breath. He was set somewhat out of view of everyone, trying not to draw attention to himself at the moment. Shiloh was likely around somewhere if she needed him she could find him, otherwise he really needed to rest. He also knew that Basse was around here somewhere, probably mad at him for going out again without her, but that could be smoothed over by going out and killing some insects together pretty quickly he knew.

His stomach grumbled at him, he was hungry but also somewhat comfortable, and he was slowly drifting off into sleep while he sat there in the shade.