[ Strong as she is, Karlach can’t finish the fight on her own, and with Astarion badly injured, that doesn’t leave them many options. Besides, Winter needs somewhere to funnel this hot spike of anger that seems to have lodged itself in his chest. There have been very few instances in his life where he remembers being so viscerally afraid, but that moment, watching this thing clamp its jaws around Astarion’s middle, was certainly – and inexplicably – one of them.
Hells.
Blue-purple bolts of lightning fly from his fingertips, scorching the spectator’s flesh where it’s not already been blasted and burned and cleaved. They make short work of the creature, thankfully. When the monstrosity finally falls and refuses to rise, there’s something like a collective moment of relief, but then it’s back to business as usual – checking dead bodies for anything useful, checking on each other and assessing where to go from here. Karlach is quick to point out that the way ahead is filthy with traps, so they’re going to have to find a way around or see if their resident rogue is feeling up to the task.
Given the way Astarion is hobbling about, Winter kind of doubts it. The traps aren’t important anyway. What’s important now is– ]
Astarion, are you alright?
[ Stupid question.
Winter himself has looked better, though he’s not as pale as he was when they first teleported. There’s a swath of dried blood running down one side of his face, and that smear under his nose still. ]
no subject
Hells.
Blue-purple bolts of lightning fly from his fingertips, scorching the spectator’s flesh where it’s not already been blasted and burned and cleaved. They make short work of the creature, thankfully. When the monstrosity finally falls and refuses to rise, there’s something like a collective moment of relief, but then it’s back to business as usual – checking dead bodies for anything useful, checking on each other and assessing where to go from here. Karlach is quick to point out that the way ahead is filthy with traps, so they’re going to have to find a way around or see if their resident rogue is feeling up to the task.
Given the way Astarion is hobbling about, Winter kind of doubts it. The traps aren’t important anyway. What’s important now is– ]
Astarion, are you alright?
[ Stupid question.
Winter himself has looked better, though he’s not as pale as he was when they first teleported. There’s a swath of dried blood running down one side of his face, and that smear under his nose still. ]