[h3][color=bedded][b][center] Thomas Richard Harrison [/center][/b][/color][/h3]
[center][indent][color=bedded][i]Location:[/i][/color] "Tower", the walls and ceiling closing in.
[color=bedded][i]Interacting with:[/i][/color] Vomit, lots and lots of it. [/indent][/center]

Another one bites the dust. And oh was there plenty of dust to bite. Gritted through teeth in frantic despair, a thousand curses mentally directed at Keystone for this amount of stupidity. To destroy the only anchor this structure clearly had left! What bumbling simpleton oaf would throw an ursine projectile at someone they could have apprehended and interrogated on the methods of his magicks? Ignorant imbecile! The more moronic persona of Thomas may have nearly killed Sana in his misguided attempts to save her, but this moronic meathead had just possibly killed the three of them without securing a method of escape! If only his saving spell had recharged, had only a week's time passed and then he would be able to save himself from this tower's downfall. But no, instead he was here in this crumbling tower, covered in the gastric contents of a dunce, trying to keep himself from falling down as the ground trembled at his filth splashing feet. Where is the moment when we needed the most? You kick up the vomit, and the magic is lost.

But it wasn't just the blockheaded bully that infuriated Thomas. No, there was something else that stemmed this deep hatred of another man. Sure there stupidity, and the current phase of Thomas passionately despised the uncouthed and unlearned, but there was something else the boy dreaded. The walls were made of glass, the ceiling made of paper, the tower imploding under its own crushing weight. The stability destroyed the moment the man behind its structural integrity was lost, and now this tower would be Thomas' tomb. His unworthy, low-borne tomb where he would spend an eternity enclosed in the ground. The fate of the dog and the master, shared as the sorcerer's destiny. No, the room had to hold, it had to be solid long enough for Thomas to escape! He had survived all this humiliation and indignity for what? To be trapped in this prison? The falling debris gave Thomas pause as he attempted to get back up, stopping his advance as the sky fell. The slippery floor, the shaking ground, all the elements were against him. No, he would not die in this coffin! He must press forward!

One block. All that could be measured, past the table and away from that- That- That... The words could no longer describe what Thomas thought of Keystone adequately. Not without a greater thesaurus and right now being eloquent and verbose was perhaps the last thing that would save Thomas. Plus he shuddered at the thought of opening his mouth and having chunks of goop fall in. One can never be too careful.