Within mere seconds, Sylvester had killed three Knights and now rested in his arms the mudded and bloodied body of Sir Dolorem. The man's eyes appeared devoid of life—devoid of strength to survive.
"Chonky! Give me the crystals!... And what the hell happened to him?" He wondered while using the best of his healing magic to try to heal the large sword slashes and stabbing wounds on Sir Dolorem's torso.
Each wound went deeper than the other. Each one struck where life would quickly wither.
He looked at Sir Dolorem's current state, and there didn't appear to be anything on him other than a simple cloth covering his lower body. He was also completely covered in dried mud and what smelled like faeces.
"What the hell happened to you, man?" He muttered while fervently trying to keep him alive.
"Max! Ugh… what's that smell!" Felix arrived with the rest. "Fuck! Is that?"
