[center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjY2LmZlZTMwMC5SWHBsYTJsbGJDQktiM0pwYjI0LjA/angel-bandit-demo.regular.webp[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/Cq67IYB.gif[/img][/center]
[color=FEE300]Race:[/color] Aasimar
[color=FEE300]Class:[/color] Paladin
[color=FEE300]Location:[/color] Stormrider; Cargo Hold
[color=FEE300]Interactions:[/color]Scratch & Val [@Apex Sunburn]
[color=FEE300]Equipment:[/color] His longsword; [url=https://i.imgur.com/0dnfaQH.jpeg]Retribution[/url] and a [url=https://i.imgur.com/TAGHTJ2.jpeg]healing amulet[/url]. A [url=https://i.imgur.com/92lzGaT.jpeg]backpack[/url] with supplies and his [url=https://i.imgur.com/pSHLAct.jpeg]lute[/url]. 
[color=FEE300]Attire:[/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/cVUVpsf.jpeg]Clothing[/url] and [url=https://i.imgur.com/pezKStD.jpeg]gloves[/url]
[color=FEE300]Gold Balance:[/color] 82
[color=FEE300]Injuries:[/color] New injuries; concussion, fractured ribs, giant splinter in his leg, injured shoulder, all bruised up. Old injuries include a missing eye, numerous iridescent scars, and a knee that aches when it rains.
[hr]

[color=silver]
Ezekiel’s focus stayed singular: following that flash of red. 

The air was thick with hazy smoke, lights sputtered and flickered out, and the ground shook and shifted beneath his unsteady feet. He could barely make out the shapes of crates and falling debris as his pace matched Val’s without effort. Every sound that ricocheted through the room threatened to split his head open. Talons scraped against metal, cargo flung through the air, and the oversized rooster never ceased its screeching. The griffon raged, and the aftermath was utter chaos. 

But that red piece of cloth tied around Val’s arm kept him anchored in the moment. Kept him from getting lost in the labyrinth. 

His one focus. 

Ezekiel kept moving as they weaved in between tight spaces that narrowed until he almost couldn’t breathe. Places a child slipped through with ease, but that to him might as well have been an unescapable passage in a collapsing cave. He was careful to keep Venn’s head from knocking against any crates, kept her shielded from any debris, and, by the grace of The Flame, he managed not to trip over anything as he hopped and weaved around every obstacle in their path. 

That flash of red told him when Val climbed over a fallen box. It got closer when Val slowed to make her way through a tight corner. It dropped when they needed to duck. It was the only thing his eye needed to focus on. 

He kept his ears locked on Scratch. Every breath, every thud of metal molding together, the echo of his footsteps: the comforting reminders that he still followed. 

Their path ended at a door, the way out, which of course was locked. At Scratch’s command, he found a spot close enough to the door to lay Venn down. One with a few boxes stacked high enough that he could grab Venn again in a rush, without the added effort of lifting her up off the floor, and save a few precious seconds in the event of a mad dash for an escape. 

Scratch and Val discussed how to unlock the door, he let their voices dim to a distant murmur. If something changed, if the fight caught up to him, he’d just needed a sound louder than the ringing to snap his focus. 

But until that happened, his focus stayed on Venn. A glove was tucked into a pocket, and his amulet slipped around the shaking hand of his injured arm. His hand rested against her forehead. It took several shallow breaths until he nestled into the headspace needed to block out everything around and within him. The chaos. The pain. It all settled into a whisper. 

The radiant energy of [color=FEE300][b]Lay on Hands[/b][/color] flowed, warm and familiar, as the magic glowed with soft healing light and gently hummed through the air around him. Head, neck, and spine. Heart, lungs, and abdomen. Whatever he could heal, whatever time he had to try, was devoted to doing whatever he could for Venn. 

He spoke to The Flame, and all honored fallen who burned inside The Flame, like he was asking his dearest friend for a favor. He praised Venn for the one thing he knew about her: a willingness to sacrifice to protect another. She may not be one of The Flame’s faithful, but she had acted as they were expected to and thrown herself in the path of destruction to save a life. 

His prayer continued on, asking not just The Flame, but other gods and pantheons too, any that he’d heard of who would take interest in his plea. A vast collection of faiths and deities invoked with the same level of veneration as warmth as his own. So many gods looked favorably on the pure of heart, acts of sacrifice, and bold displays of courage; Venn could use all the help she could get. Somewhere in his heartfelt patchwork prayer, he hoped he reached whatever god she prayed to.

[color=EBA536]“Eyepatch–...Ezekiel, …fight.”[/color]

His focus ended, the last of his prayer a rushed whisper, but worthy of divine ears nonetheless. His mind caught only the important parts of what Scratch said, and quickly the amulet slipped back into his pocket, and the glove was pulled back onto his hand. The light in his eye dimmed with exhaustion. 

When he returned to Scratch, he looked notably paler. Far more energy had been expended in trying to heal Venn than he’d expected, and even only a few years away from the war had left his skill a bit rusty. Still, he stood sword drawn and ready, both hands gripped and refused to shake as his focus stayed as sharp as his blade. He looked at the large gun device Scratch had managed to put together in only a few minutes as the dark elf had kept watch.

[color=FEE300]“I like it.”[/color] He nodded once at the turret. [color=FEE300]“And Eyepatch is just fine.”[/color] He added. 

He’d had a good feeling about Scratch from the start. Seeing the man’s quick brilliance and willingness to stand at the front, readied for danger, only confirmed his belief. At least he was one for two today. 

He waited, a few more shallow breaths before whatever was coming for them broke through the wreckage. Three warriors? One griffon? Both? They’d know soon enough.[/color]