Sett's fall to the ground was not quite as soft as he'd have liked. For a time, he found himself sorely winded, barely able to breath for the catching of his diaphragm. And he'd knocked his head quite hard too, at that. That was going to be a bruise tomorrow, he was sure, and he'd have to have been extraordinarily lucky in order to not suffer worse damage than that. And he had already had his stroke of good luck for the day... unless he'd not used up all of it. The wellspring he'd opened might not have closed at that time; in fact, it made little sense for it to have closed between his skewering the Rog's neck, and taking a tumble off its back. And worst case scenario, he supposed he could get another member of the party to heal him. Or even himself! Was he not a priest? Did he not have... well, he didn't, because that wasn't what priests did, but regardless, he hoped Fineki was still smiling upon him.

Either way, the Monk had made an appearance, and offered a helping hand to get the priest back on his feet, and an escape route for everybody here, as it seemed these Rogs would overrun them if they failed to escape. What was the monk's name? Belend or something, he wasn't sure he'd asked. Even so, he took the hand, saying 'Yes, thank you, thank you kindly, much appreciated, it's not every day a priest has to get into a fight like this,' and generally making himself seem a tad more of a fool than he really was for the moment. So on the one hand, he was finally about to get away from what he'd assumed would be his inevitable death.

...and on the other hand, his innate urge to steal hadn't been fulfilled in a while. And there [i]was[/i] a perfectly good set of headgear lying unused by anybody at the moment... instinct kicked in, and as he walked in roughly the direction indicated, he subtly glanced around to make sure nobody of note was paying attention, least of all that Skally who had taken a serious disliking to him. When he was sure they weren't looking, he quickly (though casually, as if readjusting a shoe rather than looting a corpse) knelt down next to the dead Rog leader and, in order, stuffed the helmet, the chainmail under the helmet, and the leather cap beneath that into his Elven silk bag, before standing back up and continuing to jog away as if nothing had happened, all in the span of a second and a half or so. Such were the benefits of deft hands and keen eyes. He could pretend he was going to bless the items or something later if they were discovered, "symbolic of purging the filth of those Rogs and their bloodthirsty ways out of our souls, that we might all remain pure and sinless in their wake". Yes, that'd be reasonable. Maybe claim they were battlefield relics or something.

[@POOHEAD189][@The Fated Fallen][@Sypherkhode822][@Banana][@Fetzen]