Gillian’s face was slightly flushed, both from the heat of the battle and its conclusion for their flank. The movement, for their part, had been entirely pointless, and he swore he heard at least one knight describe it as ‘being caught with their dicks in their hands’ by the end. While they effectively missed out on the second portion of the battle, none of them were dead, and he would gladly take the embarrassment of poor command over the alternative. He collected his abandoned spear while the remainder of the flank celebrated or swept across the battlefield, performing the normal mercy killings for those too injured to take captive. The captains charge still weighed heavily in his thoughts, how could that child be so damned foolish? Were there more to the ambush than just the tree and some crazy bandit ‘king’ they could have well suffered greater losses. Still, were he to admit that to Klien, his old friend would surely tear into him for focusing too strongly on the hypothetical. 

He is pushed out of his thoughts by a sharp twang of pain coursing through his artificial arm. He grabs the offending appendage, hissing curses while the wave of pain washes over him. The Adrenalin of the fight had since worn off, and the minor hit now began to show its true colors, the socket of the arm audibly grinding in his ears as he moved the arm. He sighs, knowing that going to the doctor should be made a priority, though the thought filled him with more anxiety than any battle could. The only one he knew of was the odd fellow in the plague mask from earlier, and little about the man screamed ‘warm beside manner’.  Lifting up his gauntlet a bit, the young man whispers into the black chitenous wrist laying underneath, “Le Vrai Nom”.  He shuddered as the cold rush of magic shot through him, watching as the hard black shell of his arm fades into pale flesh. It would hardly hold up to the scrutiny of a trained medicine man, but it should be enough to avoid causing too much of a scene. 

[b] "Th-...thank you all for...waking me. N-now if you'll excuse me, I must...uphold Delacroix traditions..."[/b] he hears as the approaches the now frozen log, as the young Delacroix rushes past, face flush, evidently fleeing some social fuax pas between her and the two knights who had rushed to aid the young captain. Teller was not far away, already tending to the hundi knight. “Is…this the line for the good doctor then?” he asks the two, clutching his arm at  the shoulder. 
[@atomicnut] [@Themerlinhawk]