Not a whole lot later . . .
The way up seemed so very far when he was so beaten. His skin was an irritated red, his breath wheezing; tears and grit leaked from bloodshot eyes. His nose and ears ran with vile pus, and the stink of the toxic gas was embedded in his clothes and hair.
But with the help of his summoned creature, similarly affected, he made it up. Out of the dark doorway plunged the small bear, Rory's hand still embedded in its scruff, the other holding the blood-slick handle of Kristopher's sword.
Once out in the open, fresh air he fell to his knees, the bear disappearing, slipping back into the folds of magic from whence it had came.
His heart was hammering in his sore chest, and he fell forward onto his hands, coughing violently and spitting out a vile-tasting, slimy and red-tinted mixture. Fucking hell. His shoulders shook, his stomach tensing up, and before he had a chance to think much more than oh no he threw up, and just like whatever he had spit out, it wasn't very pretty. Bile and blood and pus.
He bit back a whimper and crawled aside, still on his hands and knees.
He had tried, tried to get down there in case Lucas and Roana and Kristopher needed help getting out, but he was no warrior. He was just a goatboy. Besides, aside from the headless guy, they had been relatively fine.
"A healer," he rasped, blinking his blurry eyes, not sure if anyone was still up there with him; the world was dark and full of shadows. "We.. we need a healer."
Shaking, and uncertain of what to do with himself, Rory merely waited. Mostly his ears strained to hear Amalia and Jigano come up with him.
He didn't even want to think about what he'd do if they didn't.
The way up seemed so very far when he was so beaten. His skin was an irritated red, his breath wheezing; tears and grit leaked from bloodshot eyes. His nose and ears ran with vile pus, and the stink of the toxic gas was embedded in his clothes and hair.
But with the help of his summoned creature, similarly affected, he made it up. Out of the dark doorway plunged the small bear, Rory's hand still embedded in its scruff, the other holding the blood-slick handle of Kristopher's sword.
Once out in the open, fresh air he fell to his knees, the bear disappearing, slipping back into the folds of magic from whence it had came.
His heart was hammering in his sore chest, and he fell forward onto his hands, coughing violently and spitting out a vile-tasting, slimy and red-tinted mixture. Fucking hell. His shoulders shook, his stomach tensing up, and before he had a chance to think much more than oh no he threw up, and just like whatever he had spit out, it wasn't very pretty. Bile and blood and pus.
He bit back a whimper and crawled aside, still on his hands and knees.
He had tried, tried to get down there in case Lucas and Roana and Kristopher needed help getting out, but he was no warrior. He was just a goatboy. Besides, aside from the headless guy, they had been relatively fine.
"A healer," he rasped, blinking his blurry eyes, not sure if anyone was still up there with him; the world was dark and full of shadows. "We.. we need a healer."
Shaking, and uncertain of what to do with himself, Rory merely waited. Mostly his ears strained to hear Amalia and Jigano come up with him.
He didn't even want to think about what he'd do if they didn't.
