by Roland Sackville » Fri Dec 30, 2016 1:09 am
"Hes not your champion," Roland slurred, through a swollen and busted jaw.
Roland had not taken the fall well -- his legs were at very unnatural angles, and his back was cracked in a very unhealthy looking fashion.
Before Sam's eyes, though, the jaw was re-knitting itself, the painful sounds of bones cracking back into place echoing through Roland's armor. His limbs were beginning to be yanked back into position, and bone that had been sticking through an exposed gap in the damaged armor retreated as muscle, sinew and flesh began to knit itself over his wounds.
Dagda's Anvil