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Roan’s body exploded with pain the very instant he made contact with his captor, but he was eerily silent. The electricity coursing through his every cell rendered him completely immobile, unable to scream or even exhale as his eyes, glued open, remained fixed on the pained and dying face of the Inquisitor, clawing helplessly for mercy Roan couldn’t give even if he wanted to. Fortunately, his electric captivity only lasted a few seconds, and soon Hasgad’s grip on his magic loosened as he breathed his last wretched breath and collapsed. Roan went down with him, as soon as his body relaxed, falling in a disorganized heap over the bloodied corpse of a beast neither Roan nor any of his compatriots ever thought it possible to slay. 

With that, Roan thought he’d never move again. He wouldn’t have especially minded it, to be honest. His mission was over; he avenged his friends, and even beyond that, hit back at the Empire in a way more meaningful than all the petty supply raids his motley group had ever done. Taking an Inquisitor out of the equation was no small feat, and doing it with a tiny blade? They’d sing about him for generations. 

Was it worth it? Eh, he [i]really[/i] could have done without the torture part, but if it had to be this way, he supposed there were worse ways to go out. He could have suffered the same fate as poor Marie, to die in terror and pain looking at the same four walls and the same fucked up face, sickeningly only hours away from rescue. Yeah, getting back at that freak for her sake was worth it, he’d say. And dying here would cut down on all the PTSD he’d have to deal with later on from this whole ordeal. Honestly, it wasn’t starting to sound too bad. 

But the fighting didn’t stop for him, and as Roan dreamily reminisced about death in his stunned stupor, the situation around him continued to deteriorate. Notably, Hasgad was moving, and Roan’s small heart attack at the sight was only partially dispelled by the realization that [i]he[/i] was moving too. As a kid, in breath holding competitions with his sister, he always lost because he could never stay on the bottom of the pool; the same seemed to be happening now, though Roan turned not to see water above him nor a beckoning light signifying his demise, but the face of the vampire he’d been trying to help escape from Hasgad, kneeling over him. 

[color=C0C0C0]"I owe you my thanks,"[/color] he said. 

[color=396BD4]“Uh, mhm,”[/color] Roan mumbled stupidly, accepting his help only for the both of them to be haphazardly dragged across the room by whatever was pulling them along. Naturally, Roan feared the worst, but once they were unceremoniously dropped and the purple-haired floating kid ran by apologizing, he put two and two together. 

The kid carried Dylan and ran, and it was only then that Roan notice the now-open door leading [i]outside[/i], where the night air and trees and [i]sky[/i] waited impatiently for them - along with a rapidly gesturing figure at the treeline he struggled to make out in the dark. Lyra seemed to be the leader here and beckoned everyone out, and the purple-haired mage already followed suit, but the vampires seemed hesitant, discussing their options. Scrambling to his feet, Roan spared only a quizzical glance between the vampires and Lyra before making for the door.

[color=396BD4]“Come on!”[/color] he called over his shoulder as he made his long-awaited escape, hobbling as fast as he could on the gravity mage’s heels toward the treeline. 
[right][sub][@Hero] [@Bert Macklin] [@Scribe of Thoth] [/sub][/right]